#Cee tries to write

[wavypotatochips]

Elevator Mishap || Central Cee

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 : CentralCee x Female reader

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 : You find yourself trapped in an elevator with a mysterious stranger who turns out to be the famous rapper Central Cee in disguise. [FLUFF/ LIGHT TENSION]

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵  

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: HIIIII GUYS omg so much stuff has happened personally in my life but I am back and better!! Central Cee is so fine and I just always wanted to write something with him lol. Its been a while since I have wrote something, so bare with me c': I have no requests, so feel free to send some in! 

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ♥

"I find it hard to believe I'm actually here," you murmur under your breath, a mix of disbelief and disinterest coloring your tone as you wait for the elevator to reach your floor. While most girls would gush with excitement at the prospect of attending a Central Cee concert in the UK alongside their best friends, Stacey and Rosalina, you find yourself unable to share in their fervor. The trio, inseparable since middle school, practically dragged you along when they scored free tickets to the concert, complete with all expenses paid. Despite their infectious enthusiasm for Central Cee, you couldn't summon the same level of excitement, feeling rather indifferent towards his music. Meanwhile, your best friends are back in the hotel room, immersed in making TikToks while belting out Central Cee's tunes. You made an excuse about needing to run down to the convenience store on the ground floor to grab a snack, eager to escape the impending festivities. As the elevator doors finally slide open, you step inside, your mind already elsewhere, contemplating the potentially underwhelming night ahead, especially given your lack of interest in the artist.

Absentmindedly humming to yourself, you press the button for the ground floor before casually leaning against the elevator wall. A brief moment of panic strikes as you pat your pockets, realizing your phone must have been left behind in the hotel room. Before you can fully process this inconvenience, the elevator lurches upward, and a figure clad entirely in black, sporting a ski mask, shades, and a hat, enters. You brush off the peculiar attire, attributing it to the chilly weather outside, but a faint sense of unease begins to gnaw at you as the elevator door closes.

The person does not press any buttons, signaling they were also going to the bottom floor like you were. You tried not to stare at the person beside you, but the clothes they were wearing screamed wealth. You look at their shoes as the elevator begins to go down. Suddenly, the elevator comes to a stop with a shake. You widen your eyes as anxiety kicks in, confused on what is going on. You look over at the stranger, not being able to see their expression before walking over and pressing the first-floor button again. This time, the elevator doesn't seem to budge nor is it telling you what floor you two are currently on.

“There's no way,” noticing the elevator may be stuck, your heart sinks down. The stranger walks closer to you, giving them a try themselves to press the buttons. You step back to give them room. Noticing the buttons will not budge for them either, you sigh and press the red button that signals a representative. A few minutes pass before someone speaks, “Hello? Is everything alright?,” the statically voice states.

“Yeah, ummm I think the elevator is stuck. We also can’t see what floor we are on,” you respond.

“Okay, please remain calm we are sen-,” the voice cuts off.

“Hello?,” you question, “HELLLOOOOOO?,” spamming the button again.

“Lady we can't hear YOUUU!,” You state pressing the button.

“You should stop before you break it.” The voice of the person speaks with a deep British accent, you now know they are a male. You turn to look at him, continuing to press the button a few more times before stopping. You sigh, sitting down on the floor.

“Just great,” you mumble while lowering your head in defeat. You are not someone with claustrophobia, plus the elevator was a decent size so it's not as if you were scared you were trapped. Only annoyed. While your head is low, you hear clothes shuffling causing you to look back up. The man begins to take off his coat and hat, probably also realizing we are not going to be getting out anytime soon. You shift your legs so you are now sitting criss-cross on the floor, your back against the wall as you look up at the elevator's ceiling.

“Don't worry, I bet they will come soon,” the man speaks once again with a reassuring voice. You keep your head up, “I know, it just sucks. This is my first time in the UK and I'm spending my first night trapped in an elevator with a stranger, no offense.” You hear a chuckle, ”None taken. What are you in the UK for if you don't mind me asking?” You can tell he just wanted small talk, and you didn't mind. I mean after all, you are stuck here for who knows how long.

 “My Best friends and I are here for the Central Cee concert,” you respond, continuing to study the French painting that is plastered on the ceiling of the elevator.

“Are you excited to go?,” he questions, resulting in you shrugging,” I don't care too much about him. Nothing against him, but you know, not really my taste.”

Silence settles between you for a moment, punctuated only by the occasional crackle of the intercom and the faint hum of the elevator's mechanisms.

"So, what brings you to the concert if you're not a fan?" he asks, curiosity evident in his voice.

You offer a half-smile, considering your response. "Honestly, I'm just here for my friends. Stacey and Rosalina are huge fans, and they practically begged me to come along. Figured it would be a fun night out, even if the music isn't really my thing."

He nods in understanding, a thoughtful expression crossing his features. "Ah, the sacrifices we make for friendship," he muses, a hint of amusement coloring his tone. “Maybe after the concert you will be my fan.”

His unexpected comment catches you off guard, and you find yourself momentarily taken aback. With a furrowed brow, you glance down, your eyes widening and eyebrows raising in confusion. And there he stands, Central Cee himself, his presence suddenly filling the confined space of the elevator. His pearly white teeth glint in the dim light, a charming smile gracing his lips.

If your best friends were in your position, they probably would have passed out by now. But you? You simply let out a small laugh, shaking your head slightly. “Mmmmm I don't think so. Your music just isn't my type,” you reply, your tone casual yet resolute. You glance back up at the ceiling, your interest clearly elsewhere.

Central Cee seems momentarily taken aback by your nonchalant response. He had perhaps expected screams of excitement or frenzied fangirling – or perhaps even both. But your composed demeanor only serves to intrigue him further. He closes his lips, the smile still lingering on his face, his gaze lingering on you with newfound curiosity.

"Really now?" he questions, a playful glint in his eyes. "What exactly is your type, hmm?"

“Not you, so it doesn't matter,” you respond with a casual flick of your gaze, focusing on your nail as if it holds the answers to the universe. Impatience begins to creep into your movements, prompting you to rise from your seat and stride over to the control panel, where you futilely press the buttons at random.

"Well, I would like to know," he persists, closing the distance between you with a deliberate step.

"It doesn't matter," you retort, your tone edged with determination.

"Yes, it does," he insists.

"No, it doesn't," you counter.

"Yes, it does."

"No, it do—" You cut yourself off mid-sentence, the absurdity of the situation dawning on you. "Wait, why am I even going back and forth with you?" The question is more to yourself, but Central Cee decides to respond.

"Because you do like me."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I—" You catch yourself falling into the same cycle, causing him to chuckle.

"You know, you're cute when you get mad," he remarks, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His words elicit a soft blush from you, prompting you to turn away and face the wall. "Leave me alone," you mumble.

"Awww, I'm sorry, love. Let me make it up to you," he responds cheekily.

"Make it up to me by getting this damn elevator to work," you grumble under your breath.

"If you can admit that I am your favorite artist, then I will make that happen," he confesses, catching you off guard.

You raise an eyebrow, turning to face him. "How?"

He tilts his head to the side, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Say it, and I will make it happen."

You exhale heavily, skepticism evident in your expression. "Why does it matter to you so much?" you question.

He shrugs, smiling. "Simply because."

You glare at him, his grin only widening in response. You decide to humor him, considering his celebrity status and the possibility of connections. "Fine. You are my favorite artist."

He raises his eyebrows, amused by your half-hearted admission. "I don't think that was sincere enough for me."

You let out another small breath.  Stepping closer to him, you meet his gaze head-on. "Oakley, you are my favorite artist. I love your music so much; you are so talented."

His demeanor softens, his eyes meeting yours with sincerity. Something about saying his real name seems to have an effect on him. Whether it's your beauty or simply the use of his name, it stirs something within him, making him feel... nice.

You find yourself studying his features, admiring the way his light tan skin complements the arch of his eyebrows and the depth of his chocolate eyes. His small smile draws your attention, and you instinctively take a step back, coughing lightly to dispel the tension.

"Uhm... okay, I said it. Now, do your magic."

"You're right," he responds, retrieving his phone from his pocket.

"YOU HAD A PHONE THIS ENTIRE TIME??" you exclaim, incredulous.

"Yes," he simply responds, unlocking his phone.

You sigh. "Why didn't you say something?"

He shrugs nonchalantly. "Who wouldn't want to be trapped in an elevator with a beautiful girl like you?"

You open your mouth to reply, but the fluttering sensation in your stomach leaves you speechless. Despite your indifference towards his music, you can't deny his charm.

For a few moments, you find yourself lost in thought, your gaze dropping to your shoes. His voice interrupts your reverie, causing you to lift your head.

"Damn. I don't have any service," he says, raising his arm in a futile attempt to get a signal.

You watch as Central Cee furrows his brow in frustration, tapping futilely at his phone screen in a desperate attempt to find a signal. Despite the annoyance of being stuck in an elevator, you can't help but feel a strange sense of camaraderie with him, a shared bond forged in the confines of this metal box.

As the seconds tick by, the silence between you grows heavier, the tension palpable in the air. You glance at Central Cee, taking in the way the dim light of the elevator accentuates the contours of his face, casting shadows that dance across his features. Despite your best efforts to ignore it, you can't deny the flutter of excitement that flits through your stomach at the sight of him.

"Anything yet?" you ask, breaking the silence with a voice that comes out softer than intended.

Central Cee shakes his head, his expression a mixture of frustration and resignation. "Nothing. It's like this elevator is in its own little world, cut off from the rest of the universe."

Central Cee chuckles softly, the sound echoing in the confined space. "and here I thought being a famous rapper would exempt me from getting stuck in elevators," he remarks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You smile, appreciating his attempt to inject a bit of humor into the situation. "Guess even celebrities aren't immune to elevator mishaps," you reply, your lips quivering in a half-smile.

He returns the smile, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. "At least I'm stuck in here with someone interesting," he says, his tone laced with sincerity.

A blush rises to your cheeks at his compliment, and you quickly avert your gaze, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his scrutiny. "Thanks," you mumble, "I guess you aren't so bad yourself.."

Central Cee's smile widens at your response, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, I'll take that as a compliment," he says, his tone teasing yet genuine.

You chuckle softly, feeling a sense of ease settle over you as the tension between you dissipates. "Consider it one," you reply, meeting his gaze with a shy smile.

As the moments pass, you find yourself drawn into conversation with Central Cee, the topics ranging from trivial matters to deeper discussions about life, dreams, and everything in between. Despite the unusual circumstances that brought you together, you can't help but feel a sense of connection with him, a feeling of understanding that goes beyond mere words.

Eventually, after what feels like an eternity but is likely only a few hours, the elevator lurches back to life with a groan of protest, the sudden movement catching you off guard. Central Cee reaches out a hand to steady you, his touch warm and reassuring against your skin.

"We're moving again," he says, a note of relief in his voice.

You nod, a sense of anticipation building within you as the elevator ascends towards the surface. “Finally,” you say, though a pang of reluctance tugs at your heart. Deep down, you wish the elevator would stay broken, prolonging the fleeting moments you've shared with him. In the brief interlude of confinement, you've come to appreciate not just Central Cee, but the person behind the persona, Oakley. As the elevator hums back to life, you resign yourself to the inevitable parting that awaits you both, returning to the separate paths your lives had veered from.

Central Cee begins to adjust his attire, meticulously covering his features with the ski mask and glasses, returning to his "disguise". “Don't worry," you assure him, offering a small smile, "I won't breathe a word of this to anyone. It'll be our little secret.” Before he can respond, the elevator doors glide open, ushering in a flood of light and fresh air. Eager to break free from the confines of the elevator, you step out quickly, wary of being trapped again.

“Hey,” Central Cee calls out to you, his voice laced with a hint of concern, “I’ll see you tomorrow,yeah?” A flicker of something indefinable passes between you, a silent understanding that transcends words. Though you yearn for a deeper connection, you suppress the urge, unsure of what you truly desire. With a small smile, you nod in acknowledgement, “Yeah.”

As you both walk away, your steps leading you in opposite directions, you can't help but feel a sense of resonance, a shared moment that binds you together in thought. Despite the divergence of your paths and the separation of your lives, in that fleeting instant, your minds are aligned, fixated on each other, entwined in a momentary bond that defies explanation.

[jjjjeonww]

so…! i’ve made a decision. after everything i’ve been going through irl, i’m going to quit tumblr. i know this may seem sudden; and that you think “oh! but you seem fine yuna!” but i’m actually not fine. i’ve been going through a lot silently (for years now, since like the age of 10-12..) and i don’t think tumblr will help me with my mental health. yes; it’s my safe space, somewhere i would go to when no one was there for me. but now, i think i need to face the real challenges, i can’t have tumblr being my safe space anymore. please know that i still love my 181 followers. each and every single one of you are so special to me.

to my mutuals, you all have done so much for me, and i’m grateful for that. i’m grateful for whatever tumblr has given and granted me. i’m sorry that i’m leaving - though i don’t think anybody would really be affected by my leaving - i still apologize. i hope that maybe one day, just one day, i can come back. come back to this, come back to the love i’ve been getting.

to: @gyubakeries

tiya, you were my first mutual here, and i remember how you greeted me with open arms and such kindness, and i’ll remember that forever my fav gyuldaengie🤍 and i guess i’ll not be seeing that woozi fic, sigh. it’ll be in my heart though, and you’ll be in my heart too.

to: @96z

naya!! im not sure if you’ll see this but when i went to the waterpark - nothing leaked, your advice worked <3 i love you for that, i love you always🩵

to: @kwonienana

my make out sesh partner!! my nana!! i’m sad i wont see the 3rd part to unsent!woozi, but i’ll imagine that reader n him have a good ending. i love you so so so so much, please remember that my delusional-texted-hoshi-on-insta-girl💋

to: @jooyeonsvape

amb, my favourite jooyeon stan, i was so glad to have met another villain on tumblr. and i was glad it was someone so sweet and so kind. i love your fics, every one of them, and i love you. ❤️

to: @studioeisa

kae, my favourite 8star!! i have always loved every single one of your works, and i’m glad that i met a carat-villain, even glader (thats not a word but) that it was you. you were so kind to me, so sweet, so loving. i think now, whenever i see gunil, i’ll think of you. 💚

to: @antoncore

cee!! i loved discussing and talking to you about … riize’s … sizes…💜 (hey that rhymes!) when i first met you, i had no idea that you were secretly this freaky, and to think that you r so cute😭 (personality n looks!) i love you my favourite anton stan💕

to: @chenlezip

anna! my cutie, the woozi fic you wrote for me - i loved it so much. i think i’ve read it daily this week, i’ll never forget it, and i will never ever forget you my darling🤍 (and the jaem series bc WTF I LOVED IT SMM)

to: @seokminfilm

LYR!!! i guess i’m never getting that down bad seok fic huh?? hehe - it’s fine. i just loved talking to you about it, and i thank you once again, for making me one of the main characters in your fic, and a thank you for making mingyu down bad in that fic🤭 i love u my lyric🩶

to: @wonkierideul

this… this one was really hard to write. nini, out of all of my moots - i have to say you’re my favourite. i’m sorry to all the others, but you have a special place in my heart. you’ll always have a special place in my heart. i’m sorry we never got to vc properly, i’m sorry for all the things i’ve done that have pissed you off. i’m sorry, for leaving you. i’ll see you when i see junhui. and, when i see soonhoon, i’ll smile, but feel a pain in my heart, knowing that was once us, not anymore though.

to: @starstrawb

my silly squirrel, i thank you for all of the kind words you’ve said to me, i thank you for all of the good morning and good night messages, all of the ‘checking up on you’ messages. i thank you for everything, the love, the adoration, everything that you’ve given me. i’m sorry i couldn’t give you the same kind of love, but just know i tried my absolute best. 🐿️

to: @kissbyoon

another one that was hard to write. liza, the jeonghan who loves to annoy the woozi, i loved getting annoyed by you, i always did. i loved every single moment with you, even your most delusional ones. i hope you know that i love you. i hope you know that sadly - i’ll not be coming back. maybe i will. maybe i wont. most likely i wont. i’m sorry to say i wont be coming back like how jeonghan is. and please lili, dont wait for me like you’re waiting for jeonghan and wonwoo. it pains me to know that.

to: @gyuwrites

for some reason, we started off as mutuals who just followed each-other, then a stupid anon came in and ruined my chances of actually getting to know you. that’s one of my biggest regrets. maybe in another life we could meet again, and start off good that time. thank you for your support ashley. 💙

to: @noircheols

seilah, thank you for yapping to me, thank you for trusting me with your rants. and just overall, thank you for trusting me. i’ll remember our little yap sessions, where we talked shit, where we vented, where we just… yapped together. it felt right. but me leaving you? it doesn’t. i hope you get a job soon, just know i’ll always be praying for you. 🖤

to: @vernons-wifey12

renee, thank you for the daily horanghaes, i think you were my first ever dolly stan, apart from @/rosiemain and @/seokminfilm. i really enjoyed the time when we were enjoying eachother’s virtual presence, i love you my vernon💗

to: @rosiemain

my roro, i’ll miss you so much. if i could give you a hug, i really would. but for now - does a virtual hug work? 🫂. you’re my favourite woozidan, my absolute favourite. i once said i would never want to find another woozidan ( to @/hanniescookie ) but i’m glad i have. i’m sorry our time of friendship together was so short. i’m rooting you get your boy, and i hope ‘🦢’ gets run over by a truck. i love you forevermore my girl.

to: @hanniescookie

and yet, another hard one. augustine. oh, i didn’t know leaving you would be this hard. i don’t know. i don’t know what i would do without you. your words were the main reason i kept going. no actually, YOU were the main reason i kept going. no matter how fat i felt, how insecure i was, your words broke through them. and you broke down the wall i had built just to get closer to me, i’m sorry to say that now, the wall has been renewed, and there’s no way to destroy it now. i’ll love you my jeonghan to my wonwoo. and i’ll remember you, always and forever.

to: @seokmn

and yet another moot who i have barely gotten to know. thank you for reblogging my jiung smau <3 i hope you can find a boyfie that’s just like loser boy jiung hehe 🐍

to: @honeyhae-svt

미안해, 아내야. 이렇게 일찍 떠나서 미안해. 우리가 서로에게 보낸 음성 메모가 즐거웠어요 ㅎㅎ . 그리울거야. 진짜. 사랑해요. 정말 많이. 나를 잊지마 내 예쁜 소녀야 ㅋㅋㅋㅋ 사랑해☹️💓

to: @dokyumms

my texas girlie, pls pls pls think of me when someone mentions young sheldon🤓🤓 but really, legit thank you for becoming moots with me, it was such an honour!! i’ll never forget you. never. this - i swear. i love u lovie💖

to: @kyeomviiee

oh my sweet sweet kae. thank you for all the moodboards you have made me. i hope your break is going well, i hope u think of me hehe😛 but really, take good rest love, i’ll be by your side, just think i’m there with you. 💞

to: @polarisjisung

another moot who i wanted to get to know but sadly did not. thank you for following me, i have no idea why you!! hua!! would follow some one like me but hey i aint complaining <3 take good care of anna for me💜

to: @iamdkayyyyy

thank you for your playlist, and for the wonwoo fic, i really really loved both of it🤍 you are soo soo soo soo kind, and i really love you for that. thank you for everything soumaya🌹

let me take a breather.

and now - to the rest of the people who have supported me, thank you. for everything. literally everything. i love EVERY. SINGLE. ONE. OF. YOU. no matter what you’ve done to me. thank you for all the joy you’ve brought to me on tumblr.com !! my journey on here will be marked in my heart as my favourite journey.

thank you, and this is @jjjjeonww signing off. good night, good evening, good afternoon, and good morning to all of you.

(i’ve gotten questions about whether some people can still publish some works they have made for me and my answer is yes, you can still publish it.) update: i may been coming back soon ! in a few months or so <3 and i'll be as healthy as ever! i promise you that <3 (7th april, 2025)

[writeforfandoms]

Take A Chance On Me

I had the itch to write post-canon Ezra. And I'd been thinking about dragons. Because we always need more dragons.

Warnings: Swearing, mystery, dragon hatching, metaphorical leap of faith, time skip.

Word count: 5.3k

You'd owned your bakery for a long time. Long enough that you knew all your regulars, knew the businesses around you. Knew who to talk to when someone came around trying to make trouble. Knew where to get the best ingredients to make soup when someone was feeling poorly. 

So of course you noticed when the bookshop opened. 

The new place opened on the corner - a good spot, lots of foot traffic, lots of opportunity. While hardly the center of the universe, this planet boasted plenty of tourism, with long golden days and easy nights. 

You'd be surprised nobody had opened a bookstore earlier, except for the fact that books came and went in popularity. 

You'd have to keep an eye on this place. See if it lasted. 

The nice thing about owning your own bakery was the stability. Your life never varied much. You got to the shop early every day, had the first pastries ready for the early crews. Kept putting out new items through the day, to keep the workers and tourists alike happy. You closed when things got quiet, or read at the counter for a couple hours, whatever felt better that day. 

But it did make for a rather lonely life. 

You didn't think much of it the first time a blonde teen came in and bought a few things. She didn't smile, but she did thank you. 

Life kept on, as it had for a long time, as it would for longer. 

At least, you assumed it would keep on the same way it had been. 

Except that two things happened. 

The first was a gift, from a long time regular. Stryker had been one of your first true regulars, always spared some time to chat with you, had taste tested every new item on your menu. 

His smile as he handed over the box to you was sad, bittersweet. Wrinkled hands captured yours once you had the box securely in your grip. 

“You take care of that, now,” he said, eyes as bright as the noon sky holding yours. “Promise me.”

“I'll take care of it,” you agreed, confused but willing to agree. “I promise.”

His grip relaxed and he nodded. “Good. Good. Always been a good one, you have.” He smiled again, swallowing once. “Take care of yourself, too, y'hear?”

“I will.” The sudden foreboding tightened your throat, and your hands gripped the box even tighter. “You too, okay?”

He just nodded at you, slow and solemn, and took a step back. He turned and walked away, hesitating for a moment on the threshold. You thought you saw his shoulders hitch. 

You never saw him again. 

The box contained a weird egg-shaped thing. The surface of it was rough under your fingers, not unlike exposed rock, and ranged from sandy to dirty. It was, however, clean, leaving no traces in the box or on your fingers. 

Honestly, you had no idea what to do with it. So you left it in the box in your bedroom. 

The second thing was another newcomer. He wouldn't have been all that interesting on his own, although he was quite good-looking. The little blonde streak in his hair especially caught your eye as it shone in the light coming in the window. 

“Cee told me she got pastries here the other day,” he started, gaze flicking greedily around the case. “I tried one, haven't tasted anything so good in years. As soon as I wrested the location from her, I knew I simply had to come for myself.” 

“Cee?” You couldn't help but smile at the sheer flow of words, a little charmed. 

“My ward. Blonde girl, too serious for her own good, quiet until you get to know her.” He darted a smile at you, looked back to the case, and then looked back to you. 

“Ah, I remember her. She shared with you?” You resisted the urge to grab a box, although he looked like a man who would get more than one pastry. 

“She did, with much persuading and wheedling.” He didn't look back at the pastries this time. 

“Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it enough to come in.” You smiled pleasantly, though you also didn't look back at the cases. There was something about his gaze, something magnetic. 

“Oh, if the rest of these are as good as the first I had, I suspect I shall be back as often as I can manage.” His smile kicked up a notch, from friendly to flirty, even as his gaze warmed. 

You warmed too, undeniably flattered but unwilling to make it so easy for him. “Well, then, what do you want to try today?”

He finally looked away from you, fingers of one hand drumming against his thigh as he debated. You finally noticed the pinned back sleeve on his other arm, and decided not to comment.

Plenty of jobs in the galaxy ended up being dangerous. 

“I fear you have too tempting a selection,” he said, looking back to you. “Perhaps you could choose for me? Four of your most popular.” 

You considered him for a moment, head tipping a little to one side. Then you nodded and unfolded a box. 

He wanted a surprise, huh? Half and half it would be.

You grabbed two sweet pastries and two savory for him. It was perhaps a gamble - most people were surprised by the savories the first time, but they were extremely popular around lunch time. 

“See how you like these.” You put the box on top of the case between you two, a little startled to find he was watching you, brown eyes assessing. 

“I'm sure I will enjoy every one of these.” He winked at you. “Now, how much do I owe you?” 

You told him, knocking off a couple credits just because you liked him. 

He paid and took his box, holding it carefully to avoid crushing any pastries inside. 

“Just in case chatter hasn't yet gotten here,” he started, pausing by the door to look back at you, “I own the bookshop down on the corner. Come by any time, don't be a stranger.” He tipped the box to you in salute before he left. 

You hummed softly, leaning one hip against the case. So. He was the owner of the bookshop. 

Intriguing. Perhaps you would have to go pay that place a visit. 

You turned off the lights for the night, locking up the shop. Even with the ovens off for the night, the shop kept warm. When the weather warmed again, you'd need to keep the door open so your customers wouldn't complain of the heat. 

You patted the strange egg thing on your way to bed. The bumps and scratches against your skin felt the same as always, and you thought nothing more of it. 

You didn't think anything more of it for days, really. You had other things on your mind. 

Like the bookshop, and the handsome man who owned it. 

You'd met many people in your time here. None of them quite as intriguing as Ezra. 

There was just something about him. Something almost magnetic. More than just the intrigue of a new face, and new shop owner. 

Maybe you'd close up early one day and go investigate. One day soon. 

It had been a while since you'd had new reading material just for fun. 

Any thoughts of pleasure reading vanished when you went up to bed that night. 

The egg shook under your hand. Just a little. Not enough that hatching seemed imminent, but you still paused. 

That… was unexpected. 

It trembled again, less energetically this time. Hopefully that didn't mean anything bad. 

Just in case, you brought the egg next to your bed, hoping you'd wake if anything happened. 

It took a long time to get to sleep, and staying asleep proved impossible. 

But the egg didn't crack open overnight. Neither did it seem to die, still warm when you touched it that morning. 

Just in case, you carried it with you to the shop. 

But it didn't move all day. Didn't stir. It didn't fade, either, still warm and rough under your fingers when you checked. 

You had absolutely no idea what to do. 

“You are a mystery,” you muttered to the egg, unsure what else to do. “I don't know what to do with you. Why did Stryker give you to me?” 

The egg didn't respond, which was good, because a response would have been much worse. 

You did finally think about where you could find out more about eggs. 

Books. Of course. 

Sometimes you were a fucking idiot.

Still paranoid that something would happen to the egg while you weren't watching, you found an old pack to carry with you, stuffing the egg inside with a sweater for some padding. 

And then you locked up and headed for the bookstore, still cursing yourself for an idiot. 

A bell over the door jingled softly as you let yourself in, and you paused for a moment to take in the space. The smell of books, paper and ink and age, filled the space, different from your own shop but still nice. Shelves filled the walls and took up a fair bit of the open space throughout the shop, creating little nooks and cubbies hidden away from the world.

Which you discovered a half dozen steps into the shop. Cee sat on a cozy recliner, afternoon sunlight streaming in the windows next to her, turning the entire space orange-gold. Her hair fell around her face, one knee up to help brace the spine of the book in her hands. You vaguely recognized the cover - some story popular with the younger crowd, part of a series, if you recalled correctly. You'd heard customers talking about the books before. 

You didn't disturb her, leaving her to her reading as you ventured further into the shop. The egg rustling against your back reminded you of your purpose, giving you a much-needed kick in the rear. 

No more distractions. You needed to find any books on husbandry and creatures you could. 

Naturally, you ran straight into Ezra, almost literally. 

He blinked, startled, and then smiled. “Well, I must admit I hadn't expected to see you so soon! What brings you in today? Anything I can help you find?” 

You smiled, a little nervous, a little awkward. “I'm just kinda looking,” you hedged, shifting your weight. For all that you liked Ezra, you didn't know if you trusted him yet. 

“For fun or for a purpose?” He didn't press any closer, simply waiting for you with a small smile on his lips, and curious eyes. 

“Trying to look up some stuff about animals.” There, that was safe enough. 

His eyebrows raised but he half turned, motioning you to follow. “Thinking of keeping a pet? I'll admit Cee has been asking after one for the shop, though I am not convinced.”

Your smile felt very awkward, especially when the egg wiggled against your back. “Yeah, the thought has crossed my mind,” you lied. “Figured I'd do some research.”

“A very sensible approach,” he agreed, turning down an aisle, bookcases obscuring your view of the rest of the shop. You couldn't even hear the outside now, the world muffled and far away in the confines of the shop. “Here we are. I admit it is not the biggest section, but there's not been much call for it as of yet.” 

“I'm sure it will be a good starting point,” you said, stepping closer to the shelves to start looking at the titles. “Thanks.” 

Ezra nodded, though he lingered for a few moments. Then he smiled. “Holler if you need anything,” he said, stepping back away from you. 

You nodded, watching him go until he turned a corner and vanished into the depths of the store. You turned back to the books, taking a deep breath to brace yourself. 

You ended up sitting on the floor, a small stack of books next to you, flipping through pages trying to find anything that matched the description of your egg. 

So far, nothing matched. Nothing even came close, between the size and the texture. 

You dropped your head with a soft groan, pushing back to your feet to put books back away. Nothing had helped you, and the egg still shook in your backpack, more vigorous now. 

That made you nervous. You did not want it to hatch. You really were not prepared. At all. 

“Are you finding anything useful?” 

You jumped, nearly dropping the couple books still in your hands. It took a few moments of fumbling to right everything, yourself included. 

“I apologize,” Ezra said, hand extended and hovering near your elbow in case you needed help. “I didn't realize you were so deep in your research.”

“It's fine,” you said, heart still hammering away in your chest. “I just didn't hear you coming.”

“Happens often here,” he said with a rather wry smile. “The number of times Cee has snuck up on me is, frankly, appalling.” 

You managed a little laugh, putting the last couple books away before anything else could happen to them. “I'm not surprised. Easy to get distracted in here.” 

“It is indeed.” He eyed your empty hands, his own falling back to his side. “Haven't found what you need yet?” 

“No.” You sighed. “Not yet.” 

“I could help you search?” He watched you as he offered, curious and hopeful.

You paused, uncertain if you should take him up on his offer, not sure if you could trust him. 

The egg made the decision for you. It rocked violently, the crack audible even through the sweater packed around it. 

You both paused, and you swallowed. 

“Are you sure I cannot help you with something?” He shifted closer, watching you carefully now. 

“I suppose that depends.” You carefully removed your backpack, shifting it around to your front. 

“On?” 

“If I can trust you to keep a secret.” 

He considered you for a moment, apparently thinking through something. Then he nodded. “I find myself enjoying life here, and unwilling to risk it. I will keep your secrets.” 

You opened your backpack, the egg inside cracked straight down the middle, both sides moving as the thing inside tried to break free. The constrained space inside the backpack made it harder, the cracks slowly spreading.

Ezra hissed out a breath, chancing a quick glance around. “Close that,” he said, quiet but urgent. “We need to go somewhere more private for this.”

“Do you know what it is?” You closed the backpack again, following Ezra as he wound through the stacks and to the back. He held open the door for you, ushering you further into the room, cramped with stacks of extra books and a small table. 

“I have a suspicion,” Ezra admitted, clearing a few papers off the table with quick motions. “But I cannot say for certain until we've seen what exactly emerges from this shell.” 

You set your backpack on the table and carefully pulled the egg out, still packaged snugly in your sweater. No sooner had you put the whole little nest down on the table than the egg split, half of it falling away. 

Big garnet-red eyes blinked up at you, the skin colored the same as the egg. It uncurled slowly, stretching out stubby legs. It chirruped at you, soft and cute even though it was still damp from hatching. 

And you had no idea what it was. 

“Kevva,” Ezra muttered next to you, awed and cursing both. 

“You know what this is?” You half-turned to look at him. 

“I've never seen one,” he said, gaze still fixed on the thing. “Heard stories though, from other prospectors, other travelers.”

“And?” You frowned at him. You wouldn't have guessed he was a prospector, but it did make sense. That could be a very dangerous job, from what you understood. 

“It’s a dragon.”

“What?” This time, the word was breathed, soft and disbelieving. 

“It must be,” he continued, his hand slowly moving towards the hatchling, though he paused when it made a less than happy sound. “I've heard tell that people can hatch ‘em, if you're lucky. Where did you get the egg?” He shot you a look, half curious, half assessing. 

“It was a gift.” You spoke through numb lips, cold with shock, even as the dragon wobbled closer to you. Clearly, coordination was not a skill baby dragons had just yet. 

“A very generous gift,” he observed, still watching you. “Not the kind of gift I'd expect of just a friend.”

You shook your head slowly. “He was a regular,” you said slowly, lifting one hand. Unlike when Ezra tried, the hatchling trilled at you and nosed into your palm. “I haven't seen him since.” 

Ezra hummed soft acknowledgement of that, watching you and the hatchling. “It’ll need food,” he said, changing the subject. “I do believe I have some suitable fare in my kitchen, if you can wait.” 

You blinked, thrown by the change in subject, but nodded. He slipped out quietly, the door clicking shut after him. 

“Where did you even come from?” You asked the hatchling, not expecting an answer. 

The hatchling chirruped and cuddled closer to you. You wrapped your now-ruined sweater around it, trying to keep it warm. 

Ezra reappeared with a bowl of sliced meat, setting it down next to you and the hatchling. “Watch your fingers,” he advised. “Most things have sharp teeth. Even babies.” 

You nodded your thanks to him, feeding bits carefully to the baby, who ate ravenously. 

“Thank you for all your help,” you told him in between feeding the hatchling. “I don't know what I would have done on my own.” 

He shot you a quick smile. “I am happy to help, although I do wonder at your willingness to trust someone you hardly know.” 

You snorted softly. “Well, for one, the timing was awful. Didn't leave me a lot of choice,” you grumbled, albeit half-heartedly. This went deeper than just the timing, and you had a feeling he knew it too. Especially since he stayed quiet, waiting you out. “I just… had a feeling. About you.” Your cautious glance at him revealed only that he was still watching you. 

He let the silence linger another beat, two. Then he spoke softly. “I would say that trusting your gut, while often a good start, is not the only course of action you should take. However, in this particular case, it has not led you astray. I told you earlier that I enjoy this life, and I didn't lie. I've no wish to ruin things for myself, or for Cee. Your secrets are safe with me.” 

“Thank you.” You smiled at him, warmed by his honesty. You did startle a little when the hatchling pushed into your midsection, apparently not content with the nest. It didn't stop nudging you until you picked it up and held it close, and then it finally relaxed with a happy little meep. 

The two of you stood quietly for a few moments, both looking at the dragon. You had no idea what to do next, too overwhelmed to think properly. Ezra… you couldn't guess at what he thought. 

“I need to close up the shop,” he said finally, shifting his weight. “Give me a few minutes, if you will, and I'll happily escort both you and your little companion home.” 

“You don't have to,” you demurred, though the offer pleased you. 

“Always happy to help a friend.” He winked at you and slipped out of the room again. 

Friend. You liked the sound of that. 

It took a bit of doing to get the dragon back in your backpack, carefully hidden away. She chirruped but settled down again, hopefully to take a nap. You hoped she would at least stay quiet. 

“Cee is upstairs for the moment,” Ezra told you as he opened the door for you. “The route is clear for us to avoid any pesky questions.” 

“Are you calling Cee pesky?” You smiled though to reassure him you were only teasing. 

“Oh she is much more than pesky,” he replied cheerfully, expertly herding you out the front door. “She is smart, perceptive. Good memory. Not much for talking, though, unless you happen to engage her about one of her stories. She is absolutely a menace.” 

You laughed at not only the joy but pride in his voice. “You care for her a great deal.” 

“We have been through a lot together, her and I. That is the kind of bond that does not easily dissipate.” He shrugged with one shoulder, half-smiling. “Never would have thought of myself as the settling type, yet here I am.”

“Life has a way of changing things,” you agreed. “Hopefully for the better, overall.” 

Ezra nodded his agreement. “You sound as if you speak from experience.” 

Your smile turned wry, a little sad. “I didn't always run the bakery on my own. It's better this way.”

Ezra didn't press, simply nodded. Clearly he understood enough. 

You unlocked the door behind the bakery, which led up to your apartment. You paused for a moment, considering, before focusing on him. “Want to come up? I could use the help getting this one settled and figuring out… everything.” 

He huffed a soft laugh. “I'm glad to help,” he agreed, stepping in behind you. 

The climb up the stairs was silent save for your footsteps, and you unlocked the door to your apartment. 

You hadn't been expecting a guest, but you weren't bothered. You usually kept things fairly clear. Fortunately for you. 

“So, what do you think I'll need?” You carefully took the backpack off again, opening it to check on the hatchling. Fast asleep, body lax in sleep. 

“Someplace for it to sleep,” Ezra suggested. “It won't take long to outgrow that backpack. At least, I assume so. I'm uncertain how big exactly that little one will get.” 

“Lovely.” You sighed and set the backpack down in a chair for the moment, already thinking of what you could do. “It liked the meat, so I guess I'll need that on hand all the time.”

“Only if you don't want it finding ways to feed itself,” he said, only half-joking. 

“What else?” You planted your hands on your hips, masking how worried you were. 

“Well.” Ezra looked around your apartment, doing a slow circle to take it in. “You'll learn as it grows, I'm sure. I've heard that dragons enjoy keeping hoards, although I am uncertain what it will hoard. It may not. Haven't heard of anyone keeping a dragon in a long time. You may well be the first in this system.”

“Lovely,” you muttered under your breath, less than thrilled with the prospect. You didn't want exceptional. You liked your boring life. 

Although a sneaky part of you still whispered that someone to share your boring life with would be welcome. 

“Well, thanks. I suppose we'll see how this goes.” 

Ezra nodded, clearly taking those words as dismissal and turning for the door. 

“If you're not busy, you could stay for dinner?” You surprised yourself with the offer, but you didn't rescind it. So far, he had proven to be good company. And he had called you a friend. Even if there was nothing else there between the two of you, even if your low-simmering attraction to him amounted to nothing more, it would still be nice to have company sometimes. 

His smile warmed you through, nervous flutters taking up residence in your stomach. “That is a very fine offer,” he started, and your stomach sank. He held out his hand though, wordlessly asking you to wait. “But if I may make a counteroffer. Allow me to take you out to dinner.” 

You blinked. That. That was a step up. And it could still be a friendly overture, but maybe… “I'd like that,” you agreed. “I'd really like that.” 

He smiled, stepping closer to you. “Good, because I find I would very much like to treat you. As often as you'd let me.” 

“Let's see how this one goes first,” you said with a smile, taking a chance and holding out one hand to him. 

He took your hand, using it to tug you closer. “I have a vested interest in making sure it goes well, and I can be quite persuasive when I have a mind to.” 

You smiled. “Well, then. Sounds promising. For both of us.” 

“For both of us, huh? I like that.” He grinned. “How about we figure it out more over dinner? You can show me your favorite place.” 

“Sounds like a promising start.” You smiled in agreement, turning towards the door. The hatchling would be fine for a little while. 

This was worth taking the time.

–

You sighed, short and sharp, upon seeing the state of the back room, having just closed up the front of the bakery. A damning trail of fruit bits went from their proper storage bag, now chewed through, to Hunter's favored perching spot up atop the big stand mixer. You could even see a couple bits in the bowl of the stand mixer, which you'd have to clear out before making anything in the morning. 

Hunter herself perched on the top, tail whipping back and forth, deep green scales glinting in the light. She'd grown, but not overmuch, still able to perch across your shoulders. But you'd seen for yourself that she was a ruthless hunter, defending her territory from any intruders. 

“Hunter,” you growled, planting your hands on your hips. 

At your tone, Hunter fled, spreading her wings and jumping from the stand mixer to flap across the room to the stores of flour and sugar. She knew that she wasn't supposed to get into the fruit. 

“Don't you fly away from me,” you scolded, stomping across the room after her. She squeaked and flapped away again, this time diving past you towards the front of the shop. “Hunter!” 

She flew through the open doorway, claws clattering against the top of the display cases. You groaned, long and loud, head tipping back to glare at the ceiling. 

“Overgrown lizard,” you swore to yourself. “I could make a fair few credits selling you, you know. Or leave you to Ezra. You wouldn't like that.” 

The yearling hissed, just a little. Despite the year that had passed between her hatching and now, and the fact that she saw Ezra almost every day, she still didn't really like the former prospector. 

Which was a problem, as he had become your lover, too. 

You shook your head, frustrated but unwilling to chase Hunter around. 

“Fine, sulk in there,” you called, turning your back to the shop. “I need to clean up your mess.” 

Sure enough, you'd only been cleaning for a few minutes when Hunter flapped back into the back room, perching on your work table. 

You spared her a glance and reached over, scratching above her eye. She tipped her head into your hand with a purr, eyes sliding closed in clear pleasure. 

“You're lucky you're cute,” you said half-heartedly, ire having cooled. Now, you were simply tired. 

She chirruped and, when you paused petting her, scrambled carefully up your arm to perch on your shoulder. You snorted softly but didn't object. 

“You just get bored, huh?” You reached up one hand to pat her head. “I know. Poor thing. Maybe I'll take you over to play with Cee tonight, hmm?” 

Hunter chirruped in clear approval of that idea, claws flexing against your top. 

As soon as you had finished cleaning, you pulled out the backpack. Not the original one, but a new one you'd purchased some months ago. This one had reinforced bottom and sides to help it keep its shape. 

You'd learned quickly that Hunter didn't like to be in a soft backpack after your first one died a violent death. 

Hunter hopped into the backpack obediently, settling in as you zipped it most of the way closed, leaving only a little open at the top for her to sniff. You shouldered the backpack and locked up behind you, taking a moment to breathe in the cooler evening air. 

There was still time before Ezra would close up shop, so you detoured briefly to pick up dinner for the three of you. Carry out, from a place you'd discovered with Cee. The young woman had ended up more adventurous than you would have guessed, and had no troubles dragging you along to try every new place that opened within walking distance. 

So you knew dinner would be well received when you let yourself into the bookstore. 

Cee, ravenous youngster that she was, appeared from the aisles of books first. She liberated one of the bags of food from you with a swift kiss to your cheek and ran off for the stairs heading up to their apartment. 

Ezra was slower to appear, more leisurely. His kiss as he greeted you was more leisurely, too. 

“Only have one person left,” he murmured, his hand settling at your hip. “I shall give them another five minutes before I close up. Go on upstairs, I'll be along as soon as everything here is sorted for the night.” 

“I'll try to make sure Cee doesn't eat it all,” you agreed, smiling. “Don't be long.” You pressed one more kiss to his lips before you followed Cee.

The upstairs apartment was plenty big for the two of them, comfortable and warm now. It had taken some time for personality to pop up, but now you could see the two of them mingling in the decor. Posters and younger books favored by Cee, vistas of far away places per Ezra. It was an interesting mix, but a cozy one. 

“You're the best,” Cee told you with feeling, having already unpacked the food and hoarded away her favorite dish. “Ezra was going to make us eat the leftovers from three nights ago.”

“How awful,” you drawled, amused despite yourself. “The horrors.” 

“You know he's not the best cook,” Cee complained, sticking her fork in her food. 

“Well, you won't have to worry about it tonight.” You opened the backpack, and Hunter let herself out with a cheep, promptly scampering around the floor before hopping up on the couch, and from there to the windowsill. 

“She still getting into trouble?” Cee asked around a mouthful of food. 

“Often,” you agreed with a sigh. “She got into the dried fruits earlier. I'm hoping this is just a youngster phase, and she'll grow out of it.” 

Cee giggled, trying futilely to smother it. Your lips twitched in response and you looked down at your food. 

Hunter announced Ezra by hissing at him, back arching and wings flaring to make herself look bigger. 

“Lizard,” Ezra drawled, as he always did. 

“You're not earning yourself any points with her that way,” you pointed out, smiling. 

“Perhaps I am less concerned with earning her favor, and more concerned with keeping yours.” Ezra stooped to kiss your forehead, taking his place at your side and balancing his food expertly so he could eat one-handed. 

“Hmm. Can't tell you if that's a good choice.” You winked at him, pressing briefly into his side before you continued eating. 

Cee cleaned up after dinner without prompting, and then promptly vanished into her room. Hunter slithered in after her just before the door shut. 

“Alone at last,” Ezra joked, pulling you closer until the two of you stood pressed together. 

“For the moment,” you agreed, raising your arms to wind around his neck. “We're probably free of the kids for the evening.” 

“Stay the night?” He pressed his hand to your lower back, keeping you right where he wanted you. 

“I'll have to be up to leave early,” you warned him, not a no but just a reminder. “Very early.”

“I can return to sleep after you leave,” he said, unbothered. “I'd much rather have the extra time with you tonight.” 

You smiled at him, curling your fingers through the ends of his hair. “Then I'll stay.” Your lips pressed to his, sealing the promise. 

Just one more night of many. And many to come. 

[bots-and-cons]

Hi, I am the the one who requested the fem human reader infused with Airachinid's corpse, can I request a part 2 of it with a bit more angst like when reader with tears asks arcee if she still loves her even in this state, and also Airachinid's personality having an affect on reader when going after a group of vehicons? I just want more angst.

A/N: I was looking forward to writing this. This has so much angst potential and Idk if I can ever fully achieve it, but I'm gonna try. Part one here. I'll do part three with the whole vehicon thing, or something similar at least, Idk when, but eventually

After you passed out at the warehouse and were brought back to the autobot base, it took days for you to wake up again. During the time you were unconscious Arcee had a lot of time to think. She tried to stay by your side, but she just felt sick. She couldn't look at you and even being in the same space with you was incredibly hard. There was this stench of decay in the air every time she got close to you. She wasn't sure if it was real, or she was just imagining it. She'd smelled a similar stench a couple of times before, when she'd come by roadkill on her patrols. Were you just slowly decaying in there? Was Airachnid's body going to become your tomb?

Arcee couldn't stand it. The person she loved the most and the one she hated the most, had been ripped apart and put together to make this… thing. She wasn't sure if she could ever get past this. Even if you retained your sanity, even if you managed to come to terms with your new reality, could she do the same? Could she still love you?

When you woke up, you felt odd. The memory of what had happened just a few days before hadn't come back to you yet. It felt like you were majorly hungover, or like you'd been run over by a truck, or both. It took a moment for you to come back to reality. When you opened your eyes, it was like a screen turning on. That triggered the influx of feelings and memories from before. You tried to move, but your body still wasn't responding properly. You managed to get off the table you were on, but you fell on the floor face first.

"Someone help me" you begged, but your voice was still hoarse and barely any sound came out.

You were terrified. It was real. You had been made into this… abomination. You might have been in Airachnid's body, but you didn't feel in control of it. You tried to push yourself up with your arms, and you could just barely manage it. You felt so weak. Your body felt incredibly heavy and moving it was difficult, but you managed to push yourself up enough to sit up and lean your back against the nearby wall. You recognized the base, but you couldn't see anyone.

You were looking around with wild eyes and trying to get someone to hear you.

"Help" you croaked.

You could hear hurried footsteps coming from the corridor and soon Arcee and Ratchet came around the corner.

Arcee froze as soon as she saw you. You were awake and you looked so scared. It was odd to see that kind of expression on Airachnid's face. Ratchet on the other hand hurried to your side and and scanned your vital signs.

You didn't even glance at Ratchet, all you could see was the disgusted expression on Arcee's face. The same hatred you'd seen her look at Airachnid with, was also still there. Why was she looking at you like that? You weren't her, you weren't Airachnid, so why was she looking at you like that? Did she hate you now?

"Cee" you managed to force her name out of your mouth.

"Don't call me that. Not with that voice. It sounds like… her" Arcee said, turning her gaze away from you.

She couldn't look at you anymore, she just couldn't.

"Arcee, please. Help me get them back on the table" Ratchet requested.

"I'm sorry, I-I can't" Arcee said and staggered away, before running deeper into the base, away from you.

Ratchet somehow managed to get you back onto the table, and hooked you up into some kind of IV line. You assumed it was energon or something of the sort. It made you feel better, a bit stronger even, but Ratchet insisted you not move yet.

You could see it in his optics too. The disgust, it was there, even though he was doing a much better job at hiding it than Arcee. What had you been made into? Those monsters had made you into this… abomination. They had torn you apart and put you into the corpse of the one single being in the universe Arcee hated more than anyone or anything else. Now she couldn't even bear to look at you, and that was more painful than any ache in your new body ever could be.

Arcee didn't know what to do. What could she say to you when she couldn't even look at you? She was just sitting on top of the base, like the two of you used to. She was looking up at the starry sky, wondering just what kind of sick twist the universe had thrown at her. She hadn't believed in happy endings in a long time before she met you, but now that faith was gone again. The universe was cruel, she'd always known that, but this was something else. This was something even worse.

"Cee" she heard a voice from behind her.

"I asked you not to call me that" Arcee said, not turning around. She still couldn't look at what you'd become.

"Why? I'm still me, even if I sound and look a bit different"

"A bit? That would be the understatement of the year" Arcee scoffed.

"Could you at least look at me? Cee please?" you asked, your voice breaking just a little bit.

"I-I can't!" Arcee exclaimed. "I can't look at you, I don't want to talk to you, I don't want to be in the same room as you… Just stay out of my sight"

"How-how can you say that? Don't you love me? Cee?"

"I told you to stop calling me that!" Arcee sprung up and yelled straight in your face.

She finally turned to look at you and all you saw in her optics was disgust, sadness and anger. There was no trace of the love she had once looked at you with. You staggered back in shock, looking at her with disbelief.

"It's still me, Cee. I'm still the same person" you pleaded with tears in your eyes, clawing at your chest, leaving behind scratches.

"No! You're not!" Arcee yelled. "My (Name) is dead, you're just some fake, masquerading as them. You can't be them, I don't accept it!"

"Why are-why are you saying that? I'm right here!" you yelled back. "Don't you want me anymore?"

Arcee wanted to scream and yell, but she decided to just walk past you and back into the elevator to get back into base. She glanced back one more time, and she could see you fall onto your hands and knees, your whole body trembling as you started sobbing.

She didn't want you. She didn't love you, in fact it seemed she hated you. You were afraid she would never look at you the same way she once did. You were so terrified of losing her completely. Why was this happening?

[albatris]

hewwo

I deleted the opening of rentalcar from tumblr months ago when all the ai nonsense happened but now it's back again because I'm me. it's fresh and edited! and shorter

here's the new chapter one for your viewing pleasure. enjoy! or don't. don't let me tell you how to live your life I'm not your mum

hi taglist hello - some of you have already read this! I hope you're having a nice day though 😎

@transmasc-wizard @saturn-iidae @polyaubergine @tracle0 @goosemixtapes @valence-positive @the-one-who-makes-negative-noise @ambiguousfiction @afoolandathief @silverwarewolf @mecharose @vellichor-virgo @plasticseaslug @jetstargenderfuckery @multi-lefaiye @writeouswriter @junoshusband @writing-is-a-martial-art @midnight-and-his-melodiverse @sleepycaprine @cream-and-tea @gailynovelry @lefttigerobservation @indecentpause @writingsfromspace @carnivalls @violetfoxsketches @approximately20eggs @mohluskiepedard @desastreus @kk7-rbs @cee-grice @northwyrm @xylophonicsynapse @careful-pyromancer @recapitulation @incandescent-creativity @whole-buncha-snakess @mysticalalleycat @thatonecrowguy @va-nila-bean @televisionjester @excessive-vampires @walkman-cat @davycoquette @xenascribbles

tw for paranoia, anxiety, hallucinations, swearing, general feelings of unease

Nat Finch blinked awake.

He was slumped forward in the driver’s seat of his rental car, his forehead pressed to the steering wheel, his body aching like he hadn’t moved in centuries. His feet were bare. His throat burned. His head throbbed. Curled over his shoulders was the familiar softness of the blanket from his back seat, the one he’d been meaning to give to the Larsons for two weeks now. A deep night breeze leaked through the slightly-open window to his right, the cold gnawing at the dampness that clung to his clothes, to his face and hair. He felt filthy, filmy, disgusting—more so than usual.

A muddle of memories and flickers and voices fought for space in his brain, bumping up against each other and overlapping, threads escaping every time he thought he’d grasped one. He was overcome, for a single surreal moment, by the sense he had just awoken from an exceedingly peculiar dream.

Nat Finch sat up, groaning.

Disturbed by the motion, plastic crinkled in his lap. A collection of granola bars was scattered over him, a few of them having tumbled down onto the seat next to him and the floor below. Like someone had dumped them unceremoniously over his head and just… left him like that.

He recognised the brand, vaguely—something hoity-toity and ridiculous he’d seen at the supermarket, fifteen dollars a goddamn box—but they weren’t something that had any business being anywhere near him. His bank balance barely scraped double digits at the moment.

“Who the fuck…” Nat paused, not sure what question he was even supposed to be asking. “Why the fuck…”

His attention edged upwards, to a scrap of cardboard folded neatly in two and perched atop his dashboard.

DO YOUR BEST! it read in a childlike handwritten scrawl.

Nat squinted harder. “What the fuck.”

He tried to think. His brain, sluggish and laden with fog and aching, refused to provide any context for the mystery shower of nutrition. Or the note.

Or… anything else, for that matter. He didn’t remember falling asleep; he didn’t remember stopping his car. He remembered leaving work, but it had barely been dusk when he’d left work and the trip from Stop ‘N’ Go to his apartment was fifteen minutes, tops.

It was not dusk anymore. The black outside was the pure solitude of the witching hour and the world beyond his window was silent, save for the buzz and pop of a single faulty streetlight a few metres ahead and the chittering gossip of crickets. No people. No cars. No movement.

Nat’s dread climbed. He craned his neck and strained to decipher his whereabouts. The lonely light offered only flimsy, spluttering illumination—some of it splashing into his car, some of it into dry grass and mesh fence lining the side of the road, most of it merely into the rumble of gravel directly beneath it. He had no idea where he was. He had no idea why he was where he was.

The disco ball hanging from his rear-view mirror glittered at him, blinking urgently.

He shoved the granola bars off himself, suddenly feeling contaminated. A strident, pulsating pain forked through every inch of his body at the movement—he gritted his teeth, letting out a hiss and a wince. The blanket went next, ripped from his shoulders and hurled at the opposing window in a multicoloured flurry. It crumpled to the passenger seat and Nat stared at it, prickling all over with the suspicion someone else had placed it on him. Someone else had been here. Watching. Leaning. Looming. Touching. His hand flew to the window winder and wound it, sealing the opening. Sealing himself in and the outside out.

And then he sat still, mind reeling, chest tight. Panic twisting in his stomach. He waited for his brain to kick over, for his memory to rush back, for the moment he shook free the dregs of post-sleep disorientation and went, Oh, that’s right! That’s why I’m here! That’s what’s going on! How could I have forgotten?

A minute passed.

And another.

Frozen.

Rigid.

Nat swallowed, hard. Nothing clicked into place. Nothing clicked and nothing clicked and nothing clicked. Why not? He’d left work and turned left down Rake Street like he always did. He’d done nothing out of the ordinary.

The night outside was alive. With every flicker-out of the streetlight, the dark whined at his window, still trying to reach him. A tapping, a whistling, a whispering in its own made-up language. Nat. Nat. Nat. Something’s wrong. Nathaniel. Something’s wrong. The dark that should not have been there. The dark that should have been dusk.

He'd lost hours. Hours. What the hell had happened to him? The note on his dashboard sat there, smirking. It knew things he didn’t.

Nat fought to breathe in.

Nat fought to breathe out.

Nat breathed in.

Nat breathed out.

Five things he could see were that gaudy leopard-print steering wheel cover, the smeared windscreen from too-old wipers, the radio, the hazard switch, his own hands, crusted in cracked, dried mud.

Four things he could feel were the press of the seat under him, the press of his work uniform over him, the sting of the cold on his feet, pain, pain, pain.

Three things he could hear were crickets and streetlights and dark.

Two things he could smell were the dull citrus hum of the vent-clip air freshener and the fact it was doing nothing to hide the fact he hadn’t showered in a while.

One thing he could taste was—

Okay, okay, alright. Okay. That would do it. Nat breathed in. Nat breathed out. Calm. Calm. Calm.

He reached gingerly for the ignition, exhaling in relief when he grasped the key still inside. He had that, at least. He hesitated, perched on an agonising threshold between hopeful anticipation and whatever reality was about to find him.

He turned the key.

Nothing.

He turned again.

Nothing. The car stuttered and clicked uselessly, refusing to start. Relief left him as quickly as it had arrived. Flat battery.

Nat breathed, “Ah, fuck.”

Nat breathed in.

Nat breathed out.

He twisted towards the back seat, feeling along the faux leather for his work backpack. He hauled it to himself and rammed an arm inside to seek his phone, shoving through a jumble of familiar shapes—notebook, hoodie, empty soft drink can for recycling, empty soft drink can for recycling, gum, nametag—ah, there it was.

“Come on, come on, come on,” Nat whined, his finger colliding with the power button. “Please, please, please—”

Nothing. Flat battery.

Nat breathed in.

Nat plonked his forehead back down on the steering wheel and released a long, agonised wail.

Simmering anxiety climbed into roiling terror. Terror branched sideways into paranoia. Paranoia bloomed up through his chest and into his throat, where it squeezed tight and threatened to choke him. He’d lost hours. Anything could have happened to him. Anything could have been done to him.

The dark outside mocked and laughed. The disco ball blinked its rhythmic little warnings. He could feel it all, even when he wasn’t looking.

Nathaniel. Something’s wrong. Nathaniel.

“No shit,” he muttered back.

What next?

He lifted his head and flipped the sun visor down to look at himself in the mirror. With no phone screen and no overhead light to guide him, it was hard to get a full picture. He tilted his head, twisted his neck, attempted to catch himself on some jittering streetlight. He snagged a few glimpses—a dribble of blood from a presumably cracked lip here, a smudge of dirt on a cheekbone there. The collar of his shirt looked bloody, too. His hair wasn’t sitting right, tangled black all caked together and hanging in thick clumps. Two trembling hands lifted, the quiver partially from weakness and partially from fear, and Nat gripped at his face. Tugging along those familiar edges and curves and juts, finding them not so familiar. Finding them wrong. Hollow. Caved in. His fingertips wandered down towards his jaw—

—and along the thick, uneven mumbling of stubble that hadn’t been there when he’d left the apartment that morning.

Nat’s heartbeat tripped up. He hadn’t lost hours.

He’d lost days.

Nat breathed in. And in. And in. Not enough. Too fast. His chest heaved. His lungs refused to fill.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no. He couldn’t have lost days. He couldn’t have lost days. Jesus Christ, Nat had never been the shining poster child of mental health, but he’d never lost days. He’d been God knew where for God knew how long. He’d been—his feet were bare, his hands and face were streaked with mud, someone had clearly been messing around in his car—he’d been taken. Drugged. Kidnapped. That scribbled note? Do your best? He was being toyed with, probably by some deranged serial killer. And what was with the granola bars? Some kind of clue? A message?

He had to go. Run. Get help. Something close to a whimper climbed up his throat and fell from his lips. His hand crept to the door handle and stopped.

He’d seen horror movies. Not many, but enough. The chase, the hunt, the twisted mind games before the inevitable kill… these were part of the fun. There was probably someone watching him right now, folded into the shadows and out of sight, waiting for him to panic. Waiting for him to make his first mistake and step outside.

Waiting for him to start the game.

He couldn’t leave.

He couldn’t stay.

Could he stay? Could he just wait it out? Someone would find him. Someone would look for him. Someone would look for him, right?

No, no one would look for him. No one would care enough that he was gone.

No, there was no way they’d let him wait this out, whoever they were. They would find some way to lure him out, drive him out, force him into the waiting hands of the night air. Unprotected. Alone. All at once Nat felt a million eyes boring into him, leering from beyond the black, drinking in his every move. He shoved himself lower in his seat, clutching his dead phone to his chest.

Nat fought to breathe in.

Nat fought to breathe out.

He tried a final time to reason with himself.

When he’d worked twelve hour shifts four days straight, he’d started being dogged by the idea that someone had snuck a microscopic tracking device into his takeaway pizza, which he had subsequently consumed. When he’d been behind on rent for the third fortnight in a row, he’d become fixated on the idea that other customers in the supermarket were reading his thoughts and laughing at him. Look at this fucking loser. Grimy hair and track pants. Can’t even afford instant ramen.

Panic and stress tended to climb on top of him bit by bit. Panic and stress tended to twist all kinds of everyday events into all kinds of unnatural, terrifying shapes. It was normal. Even the tiny, audible hints of speech pushing through the dark, giving voice to his anxiety, those were normal under the right circumstances. It was all… no, not normal. It was a pattern. Tomorrow, he’d be fine. Tomorrow, he’d understand he’d never been in any danger.

So even though he was here now, helpless and stranded in the empty night, barefoot and filthy, abandoned by his memories and surrounded by leering scrawled words and fucking rich-people granola bars—he had to take this moment of clarity and hold it tight.

Tomorrow, this would all make sense.

DO YOUR BEST! the dark around him sang.

“Go to hell,” Nat spat.

And with that, he wrenched the door open.

[crabdrabbles]

Hiii Crab so happy to see you write outside of our rants/idea chats and my fellow delulu cod enjoyer! Would love to request Platonic!141 + Reader (sorry if this is long and somewhat confusing lol). You can do headcanons, drabble or whatever you comfy for. An idea that popped in my head kinda semi personal: Civ or 141! Reader though has parents and family is the reader is quite something else. Reader despite having somewhat normal upbringing still feel empty; they shouldn't be feeling this numb and empty deep inside of them. The reader craves the love that they give but couldn't or lack of receiving it back, though they don’t expect it or selfishly want it. Just someone who understands them even in their deepest darkest secret or flaw then boom cue the task force 141 unexpected yet welcoming to their life and maybe the one that the Reader can lean and let them be vulnerable on (finally).  

Take your time on doing this Looking for to your other writing genuinely -Cee, your fellow Soap delulu

GN!Reader & 141 (Mostly Price)

Warnings: Slight angst Ships: None. A/N: This absolutely ran away from me and I do not at all regret it, hope you enjoy, Cee!!! Words: 3549

Almost your entire life had been a cycle of self doubt that also started to churn and twist into self-hatred. You blamed yourself for the feelings. Afterall, you had a relatively normal upbringing. Two parents who were both present in your life, both of whom worked so that you all had food on the table and a roof over your head. A luxury that very few had.

The least you could do for them is follow the path that they wanted to put you on, no matter how much you didn’t want to do it. Because you loved them. 

So you excelled in your education, studying hard to try and impress your parents– to make them love you just as much as you loved them for everything that they did for you for your entire life. They wanted you to do all three sciences despite the additional workload it would add to your already stretched thin time? Then you would do them, take any extra classes after school in order to keep up with the work and not lag behind any of your peers. 

There was no such thing as a social life, either, not when you had homework and projects due. Friends were few and far between. Generally, most people left when they realised how hyper focused you were on your grades instead of social interaction. 

Did a classmate get a higher grade than you on a test? Well obviously you didn’t study hard enough, you just needed to dedicate more time to school even though school was all you had.

Did you get the highest marks in the class? Good, that was what was expected of you. Why didn’t you get full marks? You were better than that. You would do better because you loved your family. They showed it in their own way, of course, by encouraging you to study harder and get better grades. That was their love language, and yours was doing as they asked without a second thought. Because, at the end of the day, you were lucky to have an upbringing like you had. You would ignore the hollow void clawing at your chest because you had no right to feel that way– not when you had a roof over your head and parents that loved you(?).

It was when you came top of the class with full marks in a recent test, you came home with a beaming smile on your face and proudly showed the test to your parents. They took the papers from your hands, flipping through your work with critical eyes, before handing the papers back to you. 

‘Well done, we’re so proud of you.’ That was all you wanted them to say to you. That was all you needed to hear. To know that they loved you. 

‘Your penmanship is terrible.’ Was what you got instead. When you tried to point at the big 100% in green pen, you were waved away. ‘How are you expected to get a job when you write like a child? I’m surprised the teacher could even read your answers’. 

After several years of balancing a work and educational life and paving a way for a line of work that you didn’t want for parents you should have been grateful to have, you decided that enough was enough. 

No matter how hard you worked, no matter how high your marks were, they would never be proud of you. They would never return the love that you had for them until you nearly killed yourself trying. 

Spending your entire childhood, teenagehood and all of your current adulthood trying to please your parents predictably would damage one’s psyche. You had no friends, family who had never been devoted to you as you were to them, and high grades serving as the foundations to a prison-like future.

You dropped out of University. The only option forward that you saw was joining the army in the vain hope that the empty feeling inside of you would dissipate when you actually did something that you believed was more worthwhile than any University course. 

So you threw yourself into the military, working harder than all of the other recruits and training at every chance you could.

Your skills and determination became widely recognised amongst your peers. It took several years, but you eventually caught the eye of none other than Captain John Price. 

Impressed by your willpower that not many soldiers possessed, he offered you a place on the 141. 

Naturally, you agreed. You believed that being part of such a well renowned and respected team would finally beat back the lingering self doubt and emptiness that had curled itself around your heart.

It didn’t. If anything, it made it worse.

You were invited to join the 141, sure, but they had already established their own relationships between each other, had already bonded into a close knit group, and you were simply an outsider. Yes, you had been hand picked by Price himself, but that didn’t mean you were part of the team. They had their own inside jokes that they told to one another, leaving you feeling left out on most days.

And you felt… lacking around them. Ghost was stronger, Gaz was faster, Soap was smarter (he was a demolitions expert for crying out loud!), and Price was almost all of those rolled into one. They all complimented each other as a team. Meanwhile you felt like a spare tyre, a master of nothing and barely a jack of any trade. 

Despite how you felt about it all, they all called you ‘kid’. Regardless of age gaps between yourself and the rest of them, the nickname stuck mostly because you were the newbie. It came as a surprise that it wasn’t spat with vitriol as your peers before had, but it was in fact said with… an affection you couldn’t quite place.

You couldn’t ignore the hole in your chest that had been chipped at over the years, forming a gaping maw that no reassurances could really mend. 

Doubt lingered in the back of your mind, chipping away at your sanity as you prepared for the worst. How long would it take before they realised you weren’t good enough? 

You were so deep in your doubts that you didn’t realise that you had been distancing yourself even more than before until you overheard a conversation in Price’s office a few months down the line.

“-- they don’t belong on the team.” Gaz said as you passed Price’s office and your heart dropped. It was only the tailend of what he had been saying but you had gotten the gist. You wanted to stay, to listen to the conversation more and listen to what your team had to say about you, but you didn’t. What you were going to hear were likely things you had already told yourself right from the start. You keep walking on, ignoring the sting of tears burning in the corners of your eyes. The blood rushing in your ears prevented you from heating the rest of the conversation. 

“-- not only are they acting like they don’t belong on the team, but they’re acting like they’re not good enough.” Gaz continued, sighing in frustration.

“Maybe they need more time.” Ghost rumbled in reply, “Let them come out of their shell a little bit. Best not rush these things.” He was talking from experience, after all.

“Aye… maybe I can invite them out for drinks or sommat? I wouldn’t want them getting transferred before we got to know them a little more.” Soap had been the one that had tried the hardest to get close to you but had also tried to give you space so as to not suffocate you with his personality. 

“They won’t be getting transferred.” Price said with conviction, tapping his desk, “I chose them to be part of this team and this is where they’re going to stay. Let me have a word with them first.”

“Aye, sir.”

— — — — — —

You found yourself in the smoker’s shelter outside the main building. It was late enough that most of the soldiers had gone to bed or off to do their own things elsewhere so you doubted that you would be bothered for a little while. Just enough time for you to get your thoughts together. Your tears had dried in your eyes a few minutes ago, making them sting in the cold air. You didn’t need to look in your reflection to know that you probably looked like a wreck– entirely unbecoming of a soldier of your apparent status. 

You didn’t want to get transferred. Despite your distance with the 141, you didn’t hate them. Far from, actually, you held a great deal of respect for each and every one of them. It was just that you felt like you didn’t have your place amongst them. Not good enough to be associated with them. 

“Bit late to be out here in the cold, chuck.” A voice startled you out of your thoughts– one that you would recognise anywhere from the low rasp of a smoker's lungs. 

“Captain.” You croaked, wincing at the patheticness in your voice. There was a scuff of boots as Price came closer, leaning into your line of vision with a furrowed brow which only furrowed more as he took in your dishevelled appearance.

“Something on your mind?” He asked kindly, perching on the arm of the bench to give you some personal space. He left his question open, allowing you any chance to steer the conversation how you wanted to. There was no judgement for catching you at your lowest, no disgust at your red rimmed eyes— just polite understanding and a non verbal offer of pleasant company. 

“Why did you pick me, Captain?”

The question made him tilt his head, a frown beginning to tug on his features. You were worried you had insulted him.

“What brought this on, huh? Someone say something to you? Need me to have a word with them?” He straightened his back, scowling. Whilst you felt like you didn’t have a place in the 141, you could never deny the shield of protectiveness that Price held over his team. You remember in the back of your mind the day that some General who thought he was hot shit had the audacity to undermine Soap as nothing more than a ‘yappy dog’ when offered the Scot’s demolitions expertise. Price had appeared almost out of thin air and almost ripped the General a new one and things would have escalated into a fist fight had Laswell not intervened. It wasn’t as though Price didn’t think his own soldiers were capable of defending themselves, but he couldn’t care less about punishments aimed his own way over that of his Sergeants and Lieutenant. It was just a surprise that the protective streak extended over you, too, despite your distance to your teammates.

“I’ll sound stupid.” You mumbled, looking down at the ground as if expecting him to chastise you like a child. He didn’t.

“I’ve had my fair share of stupid over the years. Try me.”

“... and ungrateful.”

“I once had a guy punch me in the face two seconds after I took a bullet that would have killed him.” Price countered with a cut off chuckle once he remembered what was probably a mission long finished and cleared his throat. “C’mon, tell Captain what’s on your mind.”

And he sounded so sincere when he said it. Sounded like he genuinely wanted to hear what was going on in your head– that he was willing to waste what was already his important and limited time on someone like you. 

“Sir—”

“John.” Price corrected gently, crows feet more noticeable at the corners of his eyes scrunched up when he smiled, “We’re off duty, you don’t need to be so formal.”

“... John.” You echoed, finding that you really didn’t like saying that. It felt like calling your teacher by their first name in primary school or a classmate’s parent other than their last name. 

“Now, c’mon, tell me what’s on your mind. Might not be a therapist, but I’m better than bottling it up.” You wondered in the back of your mind how often Price did this. Sat with his soldiers and talked with them, offered them a listening ear to hear their vents and fears. You couldn’t help but feel honoured to be one of the few he willingly offered said time to. Your silence stretched on as you thought of the words to say, how to phrase what you wanted to say without sounding unappreciative of the opportunity that Price had offered you when he requested you join his team. 

“I don’t feel like I belong here.” You blurted once the silence had stretched on for long enough to border on uncomfortable. John’s face fell and you quickly realised how bad that sounded and rushed to correct yourself.

“No, no, wait, let me explain–” the Captain closed his mouth to allow you to continue speaking, but you could tell that it was hard for him. “I just… you could have anyone better than me, you know? I’m not a demolition expert. I’m… I’m not the best Sniper. I’m the slowest on the team, pretty sure I’m the weakest–”

“Nope.” Price interrupted, finally breaking the bubble of your personal space as he took a proper seat next to you on the bench but still respecting the distance enough to keep a few inches between you. “Nope, not lettin’ you say another word.”

“But–” 

“Nope.”

“Cap–”

“No.”

“But you could have anyone better—“

“But they wouldn’t be you.” He deflected easily. Far too easily. He leant back on the bench, crossing one leg over the other as he folded his arms over his chest. His fingers twitched and you could tell he was itching for a cigar but didn’t light one out of respect. 

“Alright, sure, I can ask Laswell to give me one of the best soldiers in the SAS and have them brought here tomorrow. They could be the best of the best, top of their class, better than you and maybe even better than me. But that’s a bit of a stretch.” He winked and earned a weak chuckle from you. “But they won’t be you. I don’t pick just on skill alone, kid, I pick based on how I feel people would fit into the team. I chose you because I knew that you’d be perfect.”

“As for not being a demolitions expert, let  me let you in on a little secret. I’ve no fucking clue about demolitions, either. And you don’t have to be on the team to be the ‘best Sniper’. You’re better than most, and that’s what’s important. As for being the weakest– did you or did you not bodily lift Gaz in a fireman’s carry during training the other week while he was trying to act as an injured civilian? Quite dramatically, might I add. Swooned and everything.”

You remembered that practice mission. Quite fondly, actually. Gaz was a civilian and , after being struck by a foam bullet from Soap, had dramatically screamed in agony and crumpled to the floor. When you had lifted him up and over your shoulders, the bastard continued to wail something along the lines of telling his non-existent spouse that he loved them and that his money be given to his equally non-existent children. Soap got in another shot to the man’s head, knocking off his cap in the process. Distracted as you were trying to haul your teammate out of the danger zone, you couldn’t help but laugh thinking about it now. 

“Last time I checked, Gaz is somewhat heavier than a sack of flour. Don’t tell him I said that, I’ll hurt his feelings.” Price was right, you supposed. You were more than capable of carrying Gaz over your shoulders, maybe even Soap or Price himself if the time called for it. Ghost you weren’t so sure about, though. The man was a walking mountain. 

“What I’m trying to say is that you have to give yourself more credit. You’re more than good enough to be on my team. I chose you for a reason.”

You… did not expect that sort of reassurance from Price. You had hoped for something along those lines, yes, but perhaps with a thrown in criticism or three. You waited for a ‘but’ that never came. The man snorted beside you and when you gave him a quizzical look, he waved off your concern.

“Shit, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think the next thing out of your mouth would be that your parents never hugged you as a kid.”

Your silence made him slowly turn his head towards you. It would have almost been comical if the situation wasn’t. His face crumbled and a wounded sound emerged from his throat.

“Sometimes they did!” You rushed to defend the people that raised you. “And they gave me food and shelter, clothes when I needed them–”

“Fucking hell. No, that’s what they’re supposed to do because they’re your parents. What about telling you that they were proud of you? That they loved you? I saw your records. Top of your class in not just your training but in your education, too. Triple sciences, mathematics, all of it. They had to be proud of you for that? My parents would have killed for me to get even a passing grade in my GCSEs.” You looked down at the ground and it was Price’s turn to have his eyes fixed on you. 

“They were proud of you, weren’t they?” He asked again, leaning forwards so he could catch your eye, his own filled with concern. “Kid?”

“I don’t talk to them much anymore.” 

Price inhaled sharply and he leaned back again, looking around and clenching his jaw as if fighting back his anger. His fingers twitched again. You admired his self control as he was still yet to grab a cigar that you knew he kept on his person. Usually in his breast pocket while his lighter was in his right pocket.

“Listen to me.” The Captain said, a more stern edge to his voice now that he had gathered his thoughts together. “Whatever your family said to you— how they treated you? Forget it. They showed you obligation. Not love. They didn’t want what was ‘best’ for you, they wanted bragging rights. What you’ve achieved– here, in bootcamp, in university and in school, is something to take pride in– no, no, look at me.”

Your gaze had trailed to the side so you avoided looking at your Captain in the eyes. He noticed and clicked his fingers to gain your attention back on him.

“Don’t look away from me because I want you to listen to what I’m gonna say and I want you to look at my face as I say it.” Your eyes met his blue ones, “You should be proud of everything that you’ve achieved in your life. I’m sorry that your family never told you that and I’m sorry that I haven’t said that enough to you since you joined 141.”

You opened your mouth to say something– to argue or disagree but he shook his head.

“No. It’s my turn to speak now. I’m proud of you. I am so proud of you. Everything you’ve done and everything that you’re yet to do, I will always be proud of you. You’re an exemplary soldier and I knew the moment I saw you that you would be a perfect addition to the 141 and you have proved me right time and time again. You belong on this team just as much as the rest of the boys. Do you understand?”

So many words– proud, proud, proud. That’s all you had wanted to hear for so many years from someone whose opinion mattered to you. You wanted to be seen and Price, this godsend of a man, had seen you and more.

“Kid, do you understand me?”

You nodded once and then realised that Price wouldn’t have been able to tell through your shaking. Tears blurred in the corners of your eyes and you nodded again, not trusting your voice in case it shattered. 

“What do you need from me?” Price’s voice was oh so soft, like he was talking to a frightened fawn. He could see how much his words had affected you and it clearly broke his own heart.

“A hug.” Your bottom lip wobbled and his face softened as he opened his arms, twitching his fingers to urge you closer.

“I can do that.” 

You leaned into him and he quickly wrapped his arms around you, drawing you in close. You could smell the lingering scent of his last cigar. The smell of his office and cleaning oil. You felt his chin on the top of your head and felt how his chest rumbled as he spoke.

“You’re part of the 141 whether you like it or not, alright? Me and the boys want you here for as long as you want to be.”

At that moment, for the first time in your life. You felt wanted. You felt appreciated and you felt seen.

have a request? send one in!

[bluestar22x]

Misfits

Pairing: Ezra x F!Reader (nicknamed "Birdie")

Other Characters: Cee

Summary: Ezra returns to his home planet and to you

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 8,500(ish) words (things got out of hand)

Warnings: Fluff, angst, family feels, friends to lovers trope, rough smut, unprotected p in v, mildy detailed oral sex, dirty talk/praise, fowl language, and Ezra being his wordy self, excessive use of reader's nickname and Kevva

Author’s Note: This is for the "Writing Through The Seasons" challenge created by @guiltyasdave and @sizzlingcloudmentality . I got Ezra + summer + heart on fire + honey and the quote "I want to see you undress for me".

I ended up combining it with a story I was already planning to write and it bloomed into this huge oneshot that I was nervous about writing but ended up loving. I only hope I did Ezra justice. This was my first time writing him. I tried to balance my love of softness out with his brand of feral behavior. Also, I have incorporated a detail or two that weren't in the movie but were mentioned by the writers/directors in interviews.

xxx

Indecision faltered your movement down the familiar white walled hall of the intensive care unit, as it rightfully should have.

Why you were here on your off hours to visit a man you hadn't seen in over two decades, you had no grasp on.

You'd left him to history, hadn't you? You'd thought so for a long time, at least. He was your childhood; he had no place in your life now.

Yet something beckoned to you, compelled you to keep going until you reached room twelve, the one your work friend had said he'd be in.

You halted in the doorway for three reasons. One, the man in the room's single bed was nearly unrecognizable after all the passing years and it took you a few moments to reconcile the boyish face you'd known with the far more matured one he now exhibited. It was hastened by the tuft of blonde hair on the top of the right side of his head, and the old scar that ran across his left cheek, a reminder of how wildly adventurous he'd been as a child, more at home in the swamp and the rainforest than society.

Two, the man was terrifyingly pale and sweaty, his body twisted in the sheets as he slept restlessly beneath them, eyes sunken in. It was far worse to see the signs of fever and infection written on his tortured face than the limb he was clearly missing, stump covered in clean gauze. He could survive easily without an arm; surviving whatever had invaded his system was far more questionable, even though the monitor beside him assured you his pulse was steady and strong.

Three, he was not alone. A young girl, a teenager, was curled up in a leather seat beside him, watching his face with an intense expression, as if she was trying to will him to wake up with her mind. Her blonde hair was a tangled mess, and she was wearing sweats that were a few sizes too big for her, but she looked healthy, unmarked.

You didn't know what to make of her. She didn't look like him, but could she be his? There had been plenty of time for him to have a child of that age since the last time you'd seen him.

"Hi," you said awkwardly. "What's your name?"

She flinched and snapped her head in your direction. "Cee. Any news?"

You blinked at her, confused. "Any news on what?"

"His bloodwork," she explained. "The other nurse told me they'd have the results soon. That the nightshift doctor would stop in with them."

It clicked then. "Oh, I'm not the doctor," you said, glancing down at your navy colored scrubs before meeting her gaze. "I work as a physical therapist downstairs. Got off a few hours ago."

"What are you still doing here, then?" she inquired, folding her arms together.

"I came back to see Ezra," you replied, the name so foreign on your tongue that you hesitated upon saying it. It was alien to be speaking it out loud again after so long.

Cee studied you warily. "You know him?"

"Knew him," you corrected. "We were friends when we were kids."

You'd been much more than that towards the end, but she didn't need to know that.

She huffed. "Didn't think he was the type for friends."

"Then what is he the type for?" you asked, uncertain you wanted to know. You had an idea of how he might have spent his years off planet as a miner. You knew many atrocious stories about how some of those companies ran.

She remained quiet, unwilling to answer, which unlocked a newfound fear in you.

"Did he hurt you?"

"No!" she protested quickly, eyes widening a little. "No, he wouldn't do that."

Relief washed over you. You hadn't thought him capable of harming a kid, no matter what he may have otherwise done while away, but you had to ask. People changed, after all. It had been too long for you to assume his most basic morals had remained intact.

"Are you his daughter?" you finally inquired.

She snorted, as if you'd presented the most ridiculous question possible to her, and shook her head. "No. We met last week out on The Green."

You stared at her. "You were on The Green?"

"The Green" was a moon famous for its valuable bounties, but infamous for its vast dangers, both environmentally and socially. The few people who dared visit it to reap its hidden treasures were often greedy and ruthless. Not to mention the whispers of strange cults settling the dense forests to live out their lives as they saw fit.

It was no place for children.

"My father's idea," she explained, like that would make it make sense.

"And where is your father now?" you questioned, making an attempt not to force the word father. As far as you were concerned, no real father would dare drag his teenage daughter to that godforsaken planet.

"Dead," Cee said simply, face void of mournfulness.

You found her lack of emotion almost unsettling, but reminded yourself that people, especially kids, could be good at hiding them, and maybe there was good reason she would not care to cry for him.

Maybe her father was abusive or neglectful. He had dared to put her in significant danger for wealth, after all. That alone already sullied your opinion of the unnamed man to whom she shared blood with.

"How'd you end up here with Ezra?" you pressed on.

"He protected me out on the Green," she answered. "And we helped each other escape."

You could only imagine what they had faced. Maybe later you would ask Ezra about it, if he ever woke up.

"How bad off is he?"

Cee shrugged. "The doctor seemed hopeful last time she passed through."

"What happened?"

"On our way to an escape pod he became ill, infected by the spores in the air. They got through a tear in his suit. I had to cut off his arm to stop the spread, and he was doing better, but then we got into a fight with some other people who refused us seats in the pod and he got stabbed. We made it off the moon pretty soon after, but he got reinfected. He had just enough time to let it be known where he wanted to go, to buy a trip here, before he was too weak to leave the medical bay."

It was a lot to take in, but surely a lot more for the girl to have endured.

"I'm sorry you had to go through all that, Cee," you said kindly.

She shrugged again. "He got the worst of it."

It wasn't what you meant, but you didn't correct her this time. Instead, you made her an offer. "Why don't you come home with me tonight? Get some sleep in a proper bed."

She narrowed her eyes at you. "Why would you help me? You don't know me."

"You helped save Ezra's life," you stated plainly, "And it sounds like you don't have anywhere else to go. Unless they've sent for someone from the orphanage?"

"I lied to them," Cee admitted. "I told them Ezra was my father and that I was seventeen. Old enough that they weren't concerned about getting the government involved."

You were impressed. "All the more reason to come with me. They'll get worried if you keep here all the time and waste away."

She gave you a look of suspicion.

"You're gonna have to trust someone, Cee," you said. "Have you even been to this planet before?"

"No, I just know its name," she replied. "Sylva Pluvialis. The rain-loving forest, right? It's supposed to be very Earth-like. "

"It is."

Earth had long been in ruins by the time you were born, but it was taught about in school plenty enough for you to remember what it was supposed to be like. The origin planet of humanity once had many different environments, but it had been most known for having a lot of water, just like your home planet, until it became the example of how not to treat a planet. A warning that they shouldn't take their second chance in the space beyond for granted, no matter how many planets and moons they'd since settled.

"So you gonna take me up on the offer or not?" you prompted, putting a hand on your hip.

She was parting her lips to speak when a soft groan interrupted her, and you both stared at the source. At Ezra. His eyes were still shut, but he was twitching his fingers, grasping at the sheets.

Maybe having a nightmare? you thought.

You approached his bedside and grabbed onto his remaining arm, below the elbow. "Ezra, Ezra, wake up," you called out calmly. "You're dreaming."

His eyes fluttered open slowly, and you sucked in a deep breath as those dark orbs met yours. All those years spent apart, yet they were still the eyes of the man you'd once loved.

"Birdie?" he murmured, bewilderment carving into his handsome features. A droplet of sweat slid from his temple to his hairline next to his ear. He chuckled in disbelief. "Kevva, I must be delirious from fever. You've hardly aged."

You laughed, relieved to hear him talking. Even if his voice was not like you remembered it, his sense of humor was. "I've got good genes."

"What are you doing here?" he inquired.

"You're asking me this?" You snorted. "I should be the one asking you. You're the one who left the solar system, Ezra."

"My greatest regret," he confessed with a wheeze.

You weren't sure what to say to that. He had hurt you when he had run away, because that was precisely what he had done. Run away. From home, from reality, from you. For what? To end up in a hospital bed with no one else to care about him except a young girl he'd just met and the woman he'd pushed away.

Ezra turned his head from you to glance in Cee's direction and was almost equally shocked to see her still there too. "You stayed?"

She huffed. "Where else am I supposed to go? I have no one else left."

Ezra's face twisted into a grimace, a hint that the story Cee had told you wasn't in full. "For what it's worth, I am sorry everything went down as it did, little bird."

She recrossed her arms. "I'm not here for apologies. We're past that."

He nodded.

"Do you have a place to stay when you get out of here?" you asked, breaking the tension.

He glanced at you knowingly. "I did not request to be transferred to this hospital with any intentions of begging you for your hospitality, birdie. That you presented yourself here even momentarily is a great wonder and mercy."

You couldn't help the edges of your lips curling up at his flowery use of words. After all this time he was still a master of language, just like his parents had been.

You'd never been quite so eloquent with your words.

"Shut up, Ez. You're staying at my house for a while."

x

You still lived in the house you were raised in, your parents having moved to the nearest city to live out their retirement years enjoying all that it had to offer. Movies, museums, food. They were living it up.

You were too used to the country life to follow them. Too in love with the land you'd been raised on. And there were too many fond memories to let go of.

Many of which involved Ezra, and maybe that was why you were taking him there in your transportation, a hover mobile that was shaped a lot like the cars of ancient times, back to where everything began. Not that you wanted to start over, but rather that you wanted to help the boy you remembered heal, and maybe stitch back together the part of your heart he tore when he fled, so those memories would no longer be tainted.

You also wanted to help Cee in whatever ways you could. Help her find her place in society again, find her a school to go to. You had always been a charitable person, had always strived to make the lives of the less fortunate better, and there was just something about her that made you want to see her flourish. You got the sense a kid with her kind of inner strength could do great things one day.

When your transport landed in front of your house, you and Cee immediately slipped out the doors, sucking in the fresh air as you glanced around at the surrounding massive fields of grass and the rainforest that bordered them.

Ezra lingered in the vehicle, deep in thought as he scanned the land around him. You wondered what he was thinking about. Their past? His parents' farm next door?

It had burned to the ground a decade ago, after a gas leak in the house's faulty heating system had exploded and destroyed it. It had taken his parents while they were fast asleep.

Ezra hadn't even come back home for their joint funeral. His brother had messaged him about it, but he had told him he wouldn't be able to make it. So his brother had sorted out all the proceedings on his own, then jetted off planet too, though his reason had to do with his wife wanting to make the move closer to her living relatives.

Did Ezra regret it? You pondered.

Eventually he stepped out too and followed you and Cee into the one story house, a duffel bag in hand, containing all the belongings that he had left. It wasn't even completely filled up.

"Ezra, you can take the guest room," you told him as you all took off your shoes at the door. "Light blue room if you don't remember it. Cee, you're going to be staying in my old bedroom, it's the one with the light green walls. Just down the hall."

They both swept the kitchen and living room over with their eyes.

"Your domicile appears almost exactly as I recall it," Ezra noted. "Strange, after all this time."

You shrugged. "I saw no reason to update it beyond adding a new layer of paint."

You headed for the kitchen sink to wash your hands. "I'm making cassoulet for dinner; feel free to raid the fridge for a quick lunch. I'm making myself a sandwich."

Ezra and Cee both nodded at you and disappeared down the hall to put away their belongings.

x

Your guests kept to their rooms most of the afternoon, something of a relief for you.

Even though you'd willingly invited them to stay, for however long they needed, it would be an adjustment having other people in the house again, especially Ezra, who you had a far too involved history with for his constant presence to be anything but awkward.

It seemed you might not have time to adjust though, considering that one dinner in they were already discussing their plans for future housing.

"Ever since we got off the Green, I've been thinking about going to boarding school," Cee informed you and Ezra. "Apparently there's one three hours from here. If I can get access to my father's savings, I could apply, maybe get in by autumn, though the window left to do so is small. If I got in I wouldn't have to worry about anything but where I'd stay during summers and holidays."

"You do not have to be concerned about your board on breaks," Ezra told her. "When I find a residence to rent, you may stay with me anytime you like."

Cee appeared pleasantly surprised by his offer. "If that wouldn't be a bother."

"You're no bother, little bird," he said, waving off her apprehension. "I owe much to you. If you cannot access your father's account, I would like to also assist you in paying for the school, if you would permit me to do so."

"Thanks," she said quietly. "I would appreciate that. But how would you afford it?"

"I have been a prospector for a long time," Ezra explained. "As pricey as the travel could be at times, I do still have a small savings. It will keep us until I find a new employment."

You couldn't help but smile at their interaction, a distraction from the classic French meal before you. Ezra was being quite generous to Cee. You thought she might mean a lot to him, despite how little time they'd had to get to know each other. It made you curious about what exactly had gone down on the Green between them.

"Do you know of any opportunities for payment?" Ezra asked you.

"I haven't heard of any job openings at the hospital that doesn't require special education," you informed him. "But surely there's something in town. You can borrow my tablet to do a search if you need to."

He nodded. "Thank you, birdie."

His sincerity, the appreciation in his lively lit eyes, nearly stole your breath.

All these years, and he could still make your stomach flutter.

x

"Ezra, don't do this," you begged as he began stuffing clothes into the duffle bag he'd thrown onto his bed.

"I need to do this, birdie," he insisted, reaching out to hold your face in his smooth hands. "The farm's not going to last without some other source of profit."

"But prospecting?" you questioned. "Ezra, most of the companies out there are cut throat, quite literally. You have heard the stories as much as I have. It's not so different from going to war."

He snorted. "Exaggerations. Gossip. The prospecting companies are like all others. They must obey the laws of their home planets."

"Maybe they do," you relented, "But once their workers land on a foreign planet or moon, it is a free-for-all. Lawless territory."

"It's good money, birdie," he told you, stepping away. "We would never have to worry about finances ever again. Not my parents. Not-"

"Not you," you finished for him. "Since when did you care about money, Ezra, as long as there was enough to survive?"

"I am weary of simple survival, birdie," he hissed. "You should understand most of all."

You got it then, why he really wanted to leave. "Is this about me leaving for college?" you asked incredulously.

"You are paving your way to a better future, why can't I too?"

"You're not fooling me, Ez," you said. "It's about the distance. That I'm going to one of the moons to get my specialized training."

You grabbed his right hand. "Distance will not be the end of us, Ezra. What we have is beyond that. Why can you not trust in us? In the misfits? Us against the world, remember?"

He narrowed his eyes at you. "You're trying to hold me back. Why?"

"Cause I'm worried about your safety!" you exclaimed, throwing your hands up.

"Well, fret no more," he snapped uncharacteristically, turning away to throw his bag over his shoulder. "I will no longer be your business."

He might as well have slapped you. You stared at him, stunned. "What?"

"I will be gone for a long time," he explained. "It's part of the contract. It is best we end things here."

"You bastard!" you screamed, shoving him. "Idiot! Coward! All this because I'm going to college for a couple years? We could've made it work! The distance is nothing."

He pulled his lips tightly together. "I don't share your naivety."

With that, he pushed past you on his way out, and devastated by his harsh words, you let him.

You turned to watch his back as he disappeared down the hall, wondering how your relationship could've turned sour so fast.

How your best friend could've dared rip your heart out.

For the first time in your life, nothing made sense.

x

You woke up from the reminiscent dream with tears in your eyes, the pain of it flooding back to you almost as if it had just occurred the previous day, not twenty-four years ago.

The anger you'd felt after he'd left resurfaced as you tried to pull yourself back together.

That was a long time ago. You'd put it behind you. He'd even apologized.

And you knew why he'd left. Why he'd broken up with you. He'd been scared. You'd been his first real relationship, his only true friend his whole childhood, just like he'd been yours.

Before he'd moved in next door, he'd been a lonely boy. Your mother had actually been the one to insist you go out and play with him, having made friends with his mother already, knowing he had a difficult time making his own friends.

You'd bonded over your shared oddities, particularly for your love of nature and books in a world where technology reigned supreme, and your disinterest in spending time with any of the other children in your class.

You'd spent nearly every evening after school together, exploring the land that your parents farmed, mornings on weekends. The rainforest where they harvested several of the native plants to sell to less fruitful planets and moons so they could have enough sustenance to feed their populations during dry spells was your favorite playground.

It was where Ezra got the scar on his cheek, tripping and falling face first into a sharp rock while chasing you. You'd both been ten at the time.

The incident had launched you into a fit of giggles, once you'd checked in to make sure he was okay.

The recollection of the surprise on his face as he'd fallen made you laugh even decades later, which only caused you to cry harder.

Sometimes it was your days as a member of the misfits of Sylva Pluvialis that you mourned most of all.

x

Only on second day at your home, your guests got hard at work to figure out their future jobs and housing, Ezra borrowed your transportation to bring himself and Cee to town to run their errands, leaving you alone most of the day to tend to your household chores and the beehives your family had taken care of ever since before you could remember anything.

The bees were remnants of Earth, flown through space and time to be farmed for honey so people could consume it wherever they ended up. Your parents had made a decent profit from them when you were growing up and honey had gotten a fair bit more valuable as of late due to a sudden increase in demand caused by a current diet trend.

Ezra and Cee had already returned by the time you finished with them and jarred some honeycombs for a desert you were planning to make the next day.

He was lounging on the couch when you strolled in.

"Where's Cee?" you inquired.

"In her room," he answered. "Busying herself with writing."

"Did she get what she needed to apply for school?"

He nodded. "They were able to dig up all the information she needed to apply to the boarding school, and I transferred my savings over to the bank in town since she was denied access to her father's account. Tomorrow I am going to assist her in filling out the application."

"And did you have any luck in town?"

"There's a few rents on the market, but they are far too costly for anything long term," he replied. "Unfortunately, the non-specialty work is sparser."

"I'm sure something will turn up soon," you assured him. "At worst, harvest season is only a few months away. My father reseeded his portion of the forest before he decided to retire. The area is probably overgrown, but I am sure you could still get a decent yield of crop from it. You could keep all the profits. It should be enough to keep the bills paid for nearly a year and to purchase a prosthetic arm of your choosing, which I will gladly help you with. I have many patients who use prosthetics."

Ezra grinned. "My dearest birdie, you are too kind. Believe it or not, I was actually just contemplating whether or not I should offer you currency for the land my brother sold to your father after my parents perished. Get back into the business. That way I would not need to rely on the mercy of others."

"You would not need much," you told him honestly. "Your brother practically gave the land to us for nothing, and I would not sell it to you for more. Let me know if you want to go through with it."

He gave you a curt nod. "Thank you. I will."

x

It wasn't a month before summer completely overtook spring on the planet, bringing about a period of equal amounts of rain and sun, and weather that alternated between the two in the blink of an eye.

Your guests continued to keep mostly to themselves except for meals and occasional gatherings in the living room to watch a film or two.

Cee seemed to thrive on quiet time in her room, drawing or writing for hours on end in the spare journal you'd handed to her after Ezra had mentioned that she was an aspiring author.

You'd managed to get her out of the house for a rare trip into town a few times to get desert or to shop for the formal clothes she'd need for boarding school, but not much else.

Ezra was quite a bit more distant, spending a lot of time away from the house for one reason or another. When he wasn't busy or pretending to be occupied, he hiked the trails, choosing the company of the natural world over yours. It was curious, since the Ezra you knew had hardly been able to stand quiet. He'd always preferred company to converse with.

And it wasn't like you'd expected him to entertain you, but you couldn't help but be disappointed. A part of you, the girl, had longed to mend bridges.

Even if it was his fault they were broken to begin with, you needed it, as much as you didn't want to admit it.

So one early sunny morning, in the peak of summer, you tugged on your boots and your pack and met him just before he wandered into the dense forest.

"Mind if I join you?" you asked as you fell into step with him.

He glanced at you, caught off guard by your appearance, but trying not to act it. "Of course not."

"Good," you said. "Cause it's supposed to be a scorcher today and I know just the spot to visit and cool off."

You led the way down a grassy trail through the forest, overgrown from lack of use. You didn't take the path very often; only visiting its end point when you most needed to clear your head. When you most needed peace.

Ezra followed close behind, not questioning where you were going, still unnaturally silent even though you were right there, barely ahead of him.

It took maybe twenty minutes before you reached the clearing. You heard the running water long before you saw it, a great river snaking through the land, hidden from the rest of the world.

You'd discovered it when you were a child, during one of your explorative adventures with Ezra. It had become your secret spot, only known by him, but rarely shared with him. He'd left it to you, but knew to look for you there when something was troubling you.

You thought it would be the perfect place to bring him since he seemed to be the troubled one now.

"It's magnificent, as it has always been," he noted as he joined you at the riverbank, staring up at the moderate but still respectably sized waterfall that fed the turbulent body of water.

"Yeah," you agreed, side-eying him as you spoke, trying to observe his reaction. "Water's sparkling today. Perfect for swimming."

"Birdie," he protested, but you were already barefoot, shirtless, and dropping your shorts.

You jumped into the water fearlessly, in nothing but your undergarments, and shouted as you came back up to the surface, not having expected it to be so unusually cold for the season.

"Come on, Ezra," you yelled out, gesturing for him to follow suit. "Don't be shy."

He grunted at you, like him being shy was the most ridiculous thing you could've insinuated, and removed his shirt in one flowing motion.

Then you knew why it was ridiculous.

Ezra had always been attractive, but he'd really grown into his own since you'd last seen him like this. He was a far cry from the skinny teenage boy you'd fallen in love with. Rugged was the descriptor that first sprung to mind. He was build solid; well filled out. And his shoulders looked that much broader without fabric covering them.

You would've gotten lost in staring at him if not for the alarming amount of scars on him that hadn't been there before, including one near his ribs that you were certain was from a healed knife wound.

"Ezra," you whispered, rattled by the sight of it; by how close the wound was to some very vital organs.

"Got it on the Green," he informed you, having seen how your eyes had been drawn to it.

"I know," you said, "Cee mentioned it. It's why your infection worsened before you arrived on planet, right?"

He nodded.

"Do I want to know how many times you've almost died in the last couple decades?" you inquired.

"I sincerely doubt it, birdie," he said, "Yet I still roam this mortal plane."

"Here, but not seizing the day," you commented. "Join me."

"Gladly."

He waded into the river and dipped his head under briefly before reaching your side.

"Refreshing, isn't it?" you inquired pointedly. This was why you'd brought him to the river after all. Not only to cool down, but to relax and take part in a simple joy.

He smiled fondly. "It's been a considerable time since I swam. I nearly forgot the feeling of respite that accompanied it."

"Well, you can come here whenever you like," you offered.

He cocked his head. "You would share with me?"

"It would not be the first time."

You were not only thinking of the times he'd followed you out here to comfort you, but also of all the times you'd taken pleasure in each other on the riverbank, away from all prying human eyes and ears.

Judging from the expression on his face, his mind had gone there too.

"I meant what I said in the hospital, birdie," he said eventually. "I am sorry for the pain I caused you by fleeing. Abandoning you. I was a foolish, insecure boy. I reasoned that you would meet another student with a more promising future and forget about me, whether or not I did so. I thought I was cutting to the chase. I thought I could move on."

He paused. "However, while I’ve had more encounters than I’d care to count, I came to the subsequent conclusion that you were the only one that ever truly meant anything to me. Being with you was something entirely different. You were like an oasis in a desert to me, one Kevva created just for my reprieve. Being with you was not just a want, but a need. I have not felt anything remotely like it thereafter."

"Then why have you been avoiding me?" you asked, though you had been cleaved by his words. They had expressed what you'd also surmised; something that had been almost too devastating for your romantic heart when you'd first realized it.

"For precisely that reason," he replied. "I am tempted to rekindle what I have reminisced about for the entire span of my maturity, and I cannot."

"Why not?" you said, frowning. If you both wanted to be together, shouldn't it be simple? This was not one of those forbidden love stories you'd read about when you were a teenager.

"Because you are too good for me," he explained. "I am tarnished. I've got blood on my hands, birdie. They are soaked. Worst, some of that blood courses through Cee's veins."

You blinked at him, confused. "What does that mean?"

He then dove into the story of how he and Cee met. He began by telling you that his visit to the Green was always supposed to be his last attempt at wealth. He went on to tell you about the team he was with, their success in finding the gems they were after, and how their greed had torn them apart, destroyed their ship, and resulted in the deaths of everyone on board but him and a faceless mute he called Number Two.

He recounted how he met a man named Damon who had endeavored to steal his gems, an action that ultimately lead to Number Two to shooting him, though Ezra had been attempting to talk him out of it, for Cee's sake. Cee had been Damon's daughter.

Damon had shot back, and Number Two died, but Damon hadn't.

"He was mortally wounded," Ezra told you, "But I took it upon myself to dispatch him anyway."

"It was a mercy kill," you injected.

He shook his head at you. "That wasn't my sole intention, birdie," he stated darkly. "I desired to take his life. I was spiteful about it. I didn't feel guilty for killing him, only for it putting a young girl in the unfortunate position of being an orphan on a strange and violent planet."

You swallowed hard, trying to come to terms with what he'd just confessed to. The story conflicting with everything you had known about him.

"It's why I didn't abandon Cee," he said, "I owed her, and someone had to be responsible for her. She saved my life on that abhorrent moon. Only Kevva knows why. She's the one who cut off my arm when it got infected and when I ordered her to leave me behind to my fate after I was stabbed, to escape on her own, she came back for me. So, as long as she'll allow me, I will mind her."

That part, at least, sounded a lot more like the Ezra you'd known.

"You care about her a lot, don't you?"

You could hear it in his voice. It wasn't just about him feeling responsible for her.

"She made it impossible not to," he answered simply. "I gave her no reason to spare me, yet she did."

"I doubt that," you told him. "There's a charm to you, Ez."

"Oh?"

"I don't just share this spot with anyone," you reminded him. "It's only ever been you."

"No amount of charm will ever change the things I've done," he said almost bitterly.

"It doesn't matter what you did," you told him. "Only what you do now."

He nodded, and the serious expression on his face enticed you to splash water into it, an unexpected assault that left him looking like a drowned rat, and in turn made you giggle.

"You think that's amusing?" he roared.

He tackled you playfully into the water, like you'd done so many times to him when you were teenagers, and you came up sputtering for air, but unperturbed by your defeat.

When your laughter ebbed, you locked eyes with Ezra and your breath hitched, your body's go-to reaction to witnessing intense desire in his soulful eyes. You hadn't seen it in far too long.

He bridged the gap between you a split second sooner than you could, pulling you in for a searing kiss, and you melted into his embrace.

"I want you, Ez," you whispered as you broke away from him.

A smirk tugged at his lips, the hidden confidence he'd gained with age and experience revealing itself at your statement. It made your stomach swoop.

"And I want to see you undress for me, birdie," he rasped heatedly into your ear, his hot breath tickling it.

You grinned and led him out of the water, only doing as requested once you were on the bank.

You stripped out of your undergarments slowly, teasingly, eyes on him, noticing that his were fixed on you like a predator eying its next meal. On anyone else the expression might have frightened you, but this was Ezra. You knew he would never harm you.

You approached him once you were naked and he palmed your right cheek.

"You are the finest creature Kevva has ever created," he declared as he glided his rough thumb over your delicate lips, tracing them. "I am not worthy of you."

"I'll accept an attempt to be," you joshed.

"I'm afraid my first endeavor to do so may be mediocre," he admitted. "I am no longer whole, birdie, and I have not participated in any intimate acts since the loss of my limb."

You shook your head at him and boldly groped at the hardened bulge in his pants, drawing a sharp moan from him. You smirked. "Something tells me you are still plenty capable of getting the job done."

When you removed your hand he shut his eyes, taking a moment to calm himself. "Fuck, birdie. Are you trying to eliminate me?"

Your only reply was a devilish smile and a come hither look which drew him back to you like a moth to a flame. He followed you to the ground, kneeling in the short grass as you laid out on your back.

He hooked his arm around your bent knees and quickly dragged you closer to him, pure lust written out on his features.

"My birdie, I wish to taste your sweet nectar," he confessed lowly. "Would you allow me to do so? To bring you to ecstasy with my mouth?"

You propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him directly. "I'm yours, Ezra," you said ardently. "Take me as you desire."

"That's a dangerous proposition," he hissed.

You shrugged. "I'm not worried."

He settled between your thighs, his left hand spreading you wide to allow accommodation for his broad shoulders, and dipped his head down to put his mouth on you.

You gasped and flattened yourself to the ground after the initial sweep of his tongue against your heat, the action feeling far more pleasant than you'd expected.

It had been a long time since any man had done this to you, let alone yearned to do so, and it was quickly clear that Ezra had significantly more practice at it than any of your other previous partners.

His licks and sucks were precise, and he skillfully focused on your most sensitive areas, sending jolts of pleasure through your body that had you arching your back and squeezing your thighs tight against the sides of his head. You tugged at his hair with one hand and bit down on the other fisted one to cope.

"Want to hear you, birdie," Ezra told you when you started holding back. You hadn't even realized you were, because why would you when there was no one else to listen to the noises you were making except him? But you had, and so you stopped.

He dipped two fingers into you and pressed them against the sweet spot inside you, and that act combined with the continued attention of his tongue soon had your body quaking with white hot bliss.

"Ezra," you moaned out sharply, digging your nails into his scalp. "Fuck. Should've known that mouth of yours wasn't just good for talking. Hats off to whoever taught you of its alternate use."

He chuckled and kissed his way back up your body slowly, nipping at the skin on your belly and breasts as he did so, eventually finding your lips again.

"You are divine in every way," he murmured against them, biting the lower one. "I could give it another go, but I fear I may fall apart before getting a chance to be surrounded by you, and that would be a terrible disappointment."

"Fret no more," you said, grinning as you popped the button of his pants open. "Just take these off and give us both what we desire most."

Nodding, he rolled away from you to peel off the soaked pants and boxer briefs he still wore as fast as he could, kneeling once again before you after they were ditched.

A thrill coursed through you as his eyes raked hungrily over you; as your body anticipated what was to come.

He didn't waste any time notching his tip at your entrance and joining you together, surging into you in one swift motion, all the way down to the hilt. You yelped at the suddenness of it, but quickly relaxed as the intensity of the stretch quickly morphed into a comforting warmth.

He covered you, eyes flicking to yours as he supported his upper body on his singular forearm, the tension in the air between you palpable.

"My memory did not serve you justice, my dear birdie," he muttered, breath hot against your neck. "Nor my fantasies. You clutch me so tightly I fear I may unravel well before either of us reach satisfaction. I must take a beat."

In defiance, you raised your legs and crossed them just above his hips, drawing him into a slightly different position, and he grunted. "Fuck, Kevva have mercy."

You smiled smugly at him. "Too much, Ez?"

"Not enough," he growled, pulling out briefly only so he could ram his hips back into you, a powerful action that jarred you from your place in the grass and made you mew.

You chanted his name as he began pounding into you relentlessly, not holding back in the slightest. It was quite a contrast to your first time together, when he was cautious and wary of what he could do to you, but it was exactly what you'd wanted.

You dug your heels into his back, urging him on, and did your best to tilt your hips in time with his. Letting your hands wander over the expanse of his upper back and shoulders as you did so, you paused only to marvel at the feel of his impressive muscles bunching and flexing underneath his smooth skin and your palms.

"That's it, that's it birdie," he panted. "Shit. Look at you. Taking me so well, wanting more. I'll give you everything you ask for, just keep writhing and calling out my name like that. Kevva, no one has ever said it better."

"Ezra," you gasped. "Come for me."

"Not before you," he insisted, grinding into you harder as sweat beaded up on his forehead.

You gripped his waist tighter with your thighs and loosened them rhythmically, clenching and unclenching around him. Alongside the loud groans and praise that shamelessly poured out of his mouth and everything else he was already doing to you, it helped push you to the brink.

You screamed out his name a final time and clawed at his shoulder blades as pleasure wracked every inch of your body, leaving you a quivering mess.

"Shit, birdie, shit, shit," you heard Ezra curse in the background of the hazy world that consumed you after, the words sounding desperate.

You felt him shift then, shoving himself away from you to lean back on his heels, and when he resumed his pace, he drove into you ruthlessly, however brief. He pressed his hand firmly against the space between your belly and hips to enhance the sensation of it for your already limp body just before he found his own respite, jaw taunt and cock throbbing as he grunted and spurted hot inside you.

You whimpered at the sensation of it, overstimulated, and he lowered himself back down to you to kiss you tenderly.

"Easy, birdie, easy," he soothed, nuzzling your cheek after. "My beautiful, perfect birdie."

For awhile after you just existed together, your breaths mingling and hearts strumming in time with each other.

Once he'd calmed, Ezra dragged himself down your body enough to gain access to your breasts and sucked on one of your nipples greedily, pulling away after a few seconds with a grin plastered on his face. After he gave your other nipple similar attention for both your sake and his, he resumed his commendation of you, laving at the skin over your chest, neck, then face as he did so.

"For two decades I have traversed the universe in search of its greatest riches and delights, but nothing could match the euphoria I acquire when I am with you, over you, inside of you," he murmured against your lips, pecking them occasionally between words.

You smiled and silently basked in his affection.

"Your sanctity rivals Kevva herself," he continued, "I am immensely privileged to have worshipped you, even if just once more."

He rolled off of you and you turned to face him, to rest a hand on his smooth chest. "I should hope this is not the last time, Ezra. You may have very well ruined all other men for me today."

He preened at your appraisal and chuckled softly before sharing a grin with you.

His calloused hand skated over your shoulder after, and he gathered you under his arm to tuck you up against his side.

"Kevva, I missed you," he whispered, and you raised your hand to fondly stroke the hair at the base of his neck.

"I missed you too, Ez."

You prayed that you would never have to again.

"Sleep, birdie," he commanded. "I wish to see the river come alive with you tonight and be well rested while doing so."

"Gladly," you said, your exhaustion already hitting you and shuttering your eyes.

He pressed one last kiss to your mouth and you drifted off.

x

You'd once read in school that Earth had been remarkably similar to your home planet in all kinds of ways, from the high levels of oxygen in the air, to the abundance of water, and the creatures that populated its land.

They were far from identical, but there were many species on Sylva Pluvialis that, on their surface, resembled the ones that had cohabitated Earth with your ancestors, and were classified in the same manner.

The jellyfish and the many other types of fish that inhabited the river that ran through your property could've fooled Earth people easily into thinking they were still on the blue planet, until they saw them after sunset.

You slept on and off throughout the day with Ezra, until you woke up one last time that night to witness the change, when the dozens of animals within your view started to glow in the dark, their bioluminescence adding a shock of color to your world.

Dressed, you approached the river with Ezra, hand in hand, and observed them for a long time in tranquility.

"What a wondrous thing to behold," he said eventually, "A rarity among the wildlife littering the cosmos. There were times I thought I would never witness it again, but here I stand."

"Here we stand," you amended.

"And I am mystified by it," he admitted. "I am only here because of the grace Cee has shown me and the reprieve you handed me with little hesitance. I am perplexed by how someone like you could ever love someone like me."

"Who said I loved you?" you teased.

"You," he answered, "A long time ago. As did I. And that kind of adoration doesn't simply depart, does it? Even though I have become someone unrecognizable, a scoundrel, you still care for me."

"I recognize you just fine, Ezra," you told him, resting your head against his arm. "Underneath it all, you're still the same person I've always known. The inquisitive, pensive little boy who sometimes drove me crazy with all his verbose."

He huffed, but let you go on without interruption.

"A misfit like me. Remember? Us against the world. That's how it was always supposed to be."

"I will forever regret questioning it," he told you with a long sigh.

"We are past that," you said, echoing Cee. "Just don't make the same mistake twice."

"Never."

x

"You packed everything you needed, right?" you asked anxiously, trailing the young girl who you'd grown to deeply care for to the taxi transport in front of the house.

Cee turned to you and Ezra, smiling and shaking her head at the same time. "Yes. I even took one of the jars of honeycombs to eat as a snack on the road."

"Good, I'm glad," you said awkwardly. "I guess then, we only have goodbye left."

"For a few weeks," she pointed out. "I'll be back from school for harvest break. No time at all."

"I'll still miss you," you told her, opening your arms up for a hug.

She huffed at the gesture and rolled her eyes in a very typical teenage manner, but accepted your embrace anyway.

When she pulled away she glanced between you and Ezra. "I'll see you later."

"See you soon, little bird," Ezra said quietly.

She nodded at him and turned on her heels, ready to stroll over to the taxi and get inside, but something made her pause.

She faced Ezra again and launched herself at him suddenly, shocking you both as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

He had just enough time to hold her back briefly before she was gone, headed to the taxi for real this time.

Within the minute the vehicle had disappeared out of sight.

"You okay, Ez?" you inquired, eyes studying his.

There was no moisture in them, but they were piteous. "I will be."

You both started making your way back to the house, arms brushing, when you heard another transport stop out in front.

You twisted around at the same time and he frowned at you in confusion. It wasn't the same taxi Cee had left in.

You grinned, knowing there was only one other person the transport could contain. You'd invited him for a visit, after all.

He stepped out of the vehicle slowly, clearly unsure of himself, a bag slung over his back. It contained enough clothes to see him through the week if he wished to stay that long. You hoped he would.

He was slightly shorter than Ezra and a few years younger, with some boyish features that had never left him, highlighted by his lack of facial hair, but his chin and dark eyes were a near exact match to your Ez's.

He and Ezra were both stalk still as Ezra stared at him in disbelief.

"Enzo?"

The edges of the other man's mouth quirked up a little.

"Hey, big brother."

xxx

Tagged: @harriedandharassed @solanumofthestars

xxx

Main Masterlist

xxx

[miupow]

hii! wanted to send in a few thoughts!!

ive been really inspired ny the idea that soobins plush is a bunny dressed in a wolfs costume, and that lowk makes me wonder if in the crave verse, soobin is like a wolf in sheeps clothing?? like he'll act really nice, shy, + quiet but after you guys get close and during his rut he'll start to become rpugher and somewhat meaner? esp after he starts getting used to his ruts! i also feel like that sheep part of him still hold him back from being irrational! idk it was js in my brain for a while!!

idk if you mentioned this before but im also genuinely curious why some of the members ruts are not as bad as others (ex: tyun isnt that bad but beomgyu.., 😜) i assuming it varies based on how attached and how often the members spend time with you

will there be other wolf packs mentioned in crave verse? ive read before that wolves get very territorial so im wondering if like another wolf finds y/n while shes gathering berries or something for the members and tries to pull a move ?

anyways thanks for listening to my yap sesh, ill def make sure to write some more asks later on 🤞🤞

hiii!!!! pls share ur thoughts always omg thank u 

i love this idea first of all. soobin in general is a wolf in sheep’s clothing i think ( ˘ω˘ ) but crave!soobin definitely!!! he’s a sweet shy darling but it’s because he’s hiding what’s really under the surface.. soobin doesn’t want to be a slave to his instincts, but around you he just can’t help it :’(

ruts r different for every wolf ! some just experience them differently than others… it also depends on how much control they have over their wolf, like tyun has lots of control so he can manage it better but beomgyu has barely any which makes his ruts really bad !! same for soobie and kai (-ω-、)

it can also depend on mc too !! like if she’s ovulating around their rut… or if they just really like her a lot and end up thinking about her 24/7 during it (*/ω＼)

i’ve mentioned this a couple of times but there r other wolf packs in the forest ! the forest is huge and there r lots of packs including packs that the boys came from hehe . long multigenerational packs with lots of wolves . jjun’s pack is relatively small and weak compared to others which is why they like to keep to themselves ! skz is a pack in the woods too they’re relatively close to the boys hehe (*ﾉ∀`*) cee wrote about them for me once !! i imagine they find out that yeonjun and his boys nabbed a human girl and now jisung wants one too lol

the boys r really possessive so it wouldn’t end well if mc came across another wolf without them around !! i could see her keeping it a secret tho for the other wolf’s sake lol. some packs r more human aggressive than others so there is actual danger for mc if she gets found by one of those packs, but there r packs that r nicer too!

[wonwayne]

GUYS what if i did an enha oneshot series with each one inspired by a track off of pinkpantheress’ heaven knows album??? they wouldn't be necessarily connected but i have ideas in mind:

true romance : jungwon idol!won with non-idol!reader but also childhood bffs to strangers(ish?) to lovers “been a fan of you since 2004” reader falls first, he falls harder typa deal

the aisle : niki MESSY relationship i tell you MESSY he runs very hot and cold breakup in the middle but reader tries to get him back a lot of spite and pining :))

nice to meet you : jake a very dramatic meetcute i think “tell them how we met, because you tell it best” AHH just gonna ignore central cee's feature bc i do not want to write unfaithful jake 👍

ophelia : sunoo the saddest thing i will probably ever write ngl maybe it will invoke shakespeare, maybe it won't definitely a star-crossed lovers trope though

feel complete : jay another devastating one i'm so sorry 😭 i think it'll have to be alcoholic!jay,, the way this song is such a banger and the lyrics are just–

blue : sunghoon a bit reminiscent of niki's love hate relationship, slightly obsessive reader pair that with narcissist!sunghoon... ooh that's tough

capable of love : heeseung they're in the engagement stage but hee is scared of commitment :(( at a certain point he straight up ghosts you so many tears but it's fated love. impossible to let go i fear overall these will be very angsty (if you couldn't already tell lmao) but lmk if you'd want to read these! i'd gladly indulge in all seven.

[eastwindmlk]

Did this just pop into my head this morning and did i write this instead of cleaning? yes and yes. But here is a slightly longer something for today. 1k for Jilyweek. Hosted by @kay-elle-cee and @sunshinemarauder

Petunia had been right. This was not a sentence Lily thought often, at least, not as she got older and her sister had drifted further and further away. Her views follow the same trajectory. Just thinking about it made Lily’s heart ache.

But she’d had a real point the last time the sisters met. “It’s easier like this. I can’t remember the last time I had time to wash my hair,” she explained after Lily had commented on her new, sleek bob cut. Which Petunia had undoubtedly modelled after Lady Di, completing her royal look with their mother’s double string of pearls and the chubby, red-faced infant pressed to her chest.

Harry was two weeks old now and Lily had forgotten what the inside of their bathroom looked like. She always found something to do. Even when, or maybe especially when, her husband told her to rest. Guilt gnawing at her while he maintained the house, did their groceries and indulged her strange cravings, like roasting her chicken at ten in the morning or somehow producing fresh chocolate chip cookies while she fed Harry at three.

All this while, she could not even manage to wash and brush her hair regularly. Lily kept the tangles hidden in a bun that also served to keep the greasy strands away from grabby hands. It was fine. It was something she would deal with when… Well, sometimes she was certain.

This thought persisted until one fateful four in the morning she couldn’t take it anymore. Shifting uncomfortably, itching at her scalp and cringing at the coarseness of her usually soft hair. Lily carefully moved out of James’ arms, cursing the creaking floorboard that was far too close to the crib while she sneaked out.

She rummaged through the kitchen drawer until she found a pair of scissors which she marched to the bathroom. Lily tried to not pay too much attention to how tired her reflection looked, her fingers carefully working the hair elastic free from where it had twisted into the infernal knots that were driving up the wall.

Eventually resorting to pulling at it hard, yelping when the elastic snapped but finally free from her hair. Though it seemed to do very little to move the mess. Scissors in hand, Lily had the urge to just start hacking away and clean up whatever she had left after.

If it had not been for the sleepy voice from the hallway she might have done it too. “Lils? What are you doing?” James’ voice was adorably raspy with sleep and it soothed the fire in her veins enough to nudge the door open to let him in. He rubbed his eyes against the light, blinking the world into focus as his eyes landed on the scissors in her hand. “what are you going to do with those?”

Lily swallowed, clicking them open and shut for a moment before her shoulders sagged in defeat. “Cutting my hair,” she admitted a little sheepishly and watched his features shift through the five stages of grief before settling on concern.

“Any reason in particular?”

It was a fair question and one that she could not really answer with anything more than a non-committal shrug. “It’s a mess and I don’t have the energy to sort it out,” she admitted after a moment of consideration and once more raised the scissors up to start hacking away.

James appeared in the mirror behind her while his fingers wound around her hand. “Darling,” he cautioned and her eyes met him in the reflection. “Do you want help sorting out your hair? If you still want to cut it off after that we’ll get you to a hairdresser.” His fingers slipped down, fingers skimming her wrist and came to rest on her shoulder.

The reflection grew blurry with tears feeling his thumb rub soothing circles into her shoulder blade. She drew in a shaky breath in the hopes of keeping her emotions in check. Something that had proven rather difficult ever since Harry, the pregnancy has wreaked havoc on her restraint. Her heart was on her sleeve whether she wanted it to be or not.

“You’re already doing so much, I c-can’t ask you to sort out my bloody hair too.” She tried to refuse, placing the scissors on the sink with a metal clang. “It’s too much.”

“Nothing is too much, Lily,” he answered so immediately it was almost jarring. “If anything, I am sorry I did not notice it before.” She felt his lips kiss away the tears that rolled down her cheek and his hands steered her towards the bathtub.

With a flick of his wand, it filled and the soothing scent of lavender and oleander swirled around her. Tempting her into the warm water. “I suppose if you insist.” With that, she slipped into the the tub, her body more achy than she had realized before.

With patient fingers silently worked through the knots in her hair, not once did he so much as mention the mess it was. He just worked, slowly and methodically. Lulling her into a meditative state, more restful than she had been for months. Before she knew it the small window started to filter in cool morning light. Which was the only indication of how long they’d been there.

Lily shifted, trying to turn to James to look at him and maybe suggest he take a break. That she could still just cut it all off. But then she realized something. His fingers were slowly running through her locks, smooth and soft. “One more minute. Just need to rinse and you’re good as new.”

Her hand shot up, fingers sliding through with ease. She combed her fingers through once, twice and then again. “Oh, James,” she sighed, her voice trembling with emotion. She could not express how much this meant to her. Lily swallowed the tightness in her throat, her fingers brushing the back of his hand gingerly. “Thank you.”

James lifted her hand up to his lips, kissing her fingertips and she could hear the gentle smile in his voice as he simply answered. “I love you.”

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Hey, Cee!💗Congrats on your amazing milestone!👏I’m rather new to the family, still making my way through your master list and I enjoy it a lot😊 For the sleepover I’d like to request a micro drabble if you’d be so kind - Roommates Au with Dieter Bravo 🙌 What a nightmare!😅

Hi lovely! I'm so glad you're here and I hope you're having a good time with my Pedro boys 😘 So this one ran away from me, I'm very sorry if this wasn't what you were hoping for, but I've been itching to write for a younger Dieter, and this is what came out.

Dieter Bravo x Roommates AU

Fuck Yeah 2222 Sleepover micro drabble request | 1000ish words (sorry) | warnings: mature themes but not explicit, mentions of drug use, angst, hopeful ending

You're not sure how you ended up sharing an apartment with Dieter Bravo.

Honestly, calling this dumpster fire of a studio above a laundromat/dealer's den an apartment is a kindness it does not deserve.

You tried in the beginning. You painted the walls a soothing buttercup that has long peeled off in patches. You fixed the table with the crooked leg so it doesn't wobble when you eat discounted sandwiches on it. You even bought potted plants, dotting trellises of green throughout the small space to give it some semblance of life (that quickly expired from lack of daylight).

But then one day, your college boyfriend, your supposed ride-or-die, left for an audition and never came back.

The next morning, Dieter Bravo showed up on your doorstep, a beat-up weekender bag at his feet. He looked bored even then, wearing an unaffected nonchalance like he does his favourite green robe. 'Some dude I met an an audition yesterday said there's a cheap room for rent?'

Except there's not really a room. There's a bed in the corner with a privacy curtain around it like a fucking hospital ward, and there's a fold-out couch on the other side of the tiny space.

Dieter lets you take the bed.

You don't bother getting to know your new roommate, too wrapped up in the cotton wool of your heartbreak and a blind determination to make it. Honestly, you'd struggle to pick him out from a lineup.

All you know is that he's messy, but he consciously contains that mess to his side of the studio. It's like there's a glass wall holding back his dirty clothes and mismatched shoes from spilling into the shared kitchen. He's also bad at clearing out the fridge, always forgetting the discounted Cheddar he seems to have a fondness for, but always leaves rotting at the back of the dairy shelf.

He doesn't complain when you throw his shit out though, and you don't mind cleaning up after him.

You're ships in the night, each pulling as many shifts as possible in between auditions to stay alive in this money-guzzling, soul-crushing city.

By the time you come home well after midnight, the only sign that another person lives with you is the occasional Chinese takeout he leaves out on the (still wobbly) table if the buffet place he works at gives him leftovers.

In your rush to leave for your first shift one morning, you accidentally make too much coffee, which you leave on the counter for when he returns from his graveyard stint. A few more accidents later, you start making enough for two out of habit.

The first time you actually share space in the studio is maybe five months into your not-quite-cohabitation. It's been a tough day - two rejections after third-round auditions, and a drunk customer spilled Jack and Coke onto your favourite white top, which will definitely leave a stain.

You let yourself into the studio quietly, not bothering with the lights. Stripping down to your underwear, you're about to head into the bathroom when you hear it.

Just above the thumping bass of the illicit nightclub across the street, and the whirr of the industrial-sized washing machines under your feet, is the unmistakable squeak squeak squeak of old springs in the fold-out couch.

You freeze. Someone else is in the apartment with you.

A breathy, distinctly female moan reaches your ear, but a vicious blare of a car horn promptly drowns it out.

Holy fuck. Dieter is fucking some girl not ten steps across the studio, with nothing but the flimsy curtain around your bed separating you.

Suddenly hyperaware, you hear everything. The heavy, loaded slap of skin on skin. Shallow breaths muted in the curve of a neck. The low timbre of his voice, whispers of words that you can't make out - but you know that it's filthy by the way the fold-out creaks under the motion of quickening thrusts, and the desperate cry from the woman, quickly muffled.

You know exactly the moment he cums - there's a sudden stillness, a suspension of time, like everything is on tiptoes - and then three long, drawn-out thumps of the couch hitting the wall.

Then all goes quiet.

You can barely open your eyes the next morning when you trudge to the bathroom in just a threadbare sleep shirt and underwear. The door opens without you noticing, and you walk nose first into a broad, wet chest.

You open your mouth to apologise, but no words come out as you tip your chin upwards.

Dieter Bravo has brown eyes, hooded by deep set lids. He will change a lot in the years to come, as fame and drugs take hold - but one thing that does not is the way your breath hitches when he looks at you. Really looks at you.

His curls are long and unruly when dry, but wet and slicked back, the contours of his profile are more pronounced, and your eyes slide down the strong bridge of his nose and linger on the plush lips under a moustache that seems almost fastidiously tidy compared to the rest of him. It's the one constant when everything else in his life is anything but.

Dieter Bravo will be many things to you over the next fifteen years. Lover, boyfriend, ex, stranger, co-star, friend, friend with benefits, fiancé, ex, fiancé once again -

But he was your roommate first. And that morning, in the doorway to the tiny shower, your tits inadvertently pressed up against his bare chest, the wet towel wrapped around his narrow hips brushing your bare thighs, he smiles at you for the first time.

And when things get difficult down the line, because by god, do they get difficult - you hold on to that smile.

You hold onto him. Sometimes you have to, literally, wrapping your whole body around his through withdrawal shakes, and you whisper in his ear to remind him of how far you've both come from that dumpster fire of a studio above the laundromat/dealer's den -

Which you're kind enough to call an apartment.

[agent-nor]

Writing snippet time bc I was coming home from a con earlier today and listening to my IEYTD playlist, and thinking of Dr Prism. It'd be a journal entry Phoenix and Cee find somewhere, or something like that

...I had performed so many procedures at that point - building the TK devices, implanting them in the agents - and then, they would be gone.

A mission gone wrong, a mission gone right, another human that I had given this ability to, dead in the gutter.

I stopped looking at the names on the consent forms at a certain point. Tried not to look at their faces, or at least, not to notice any details. I felt like a livestock owner, not naming their chickens knowing they'd be led to the slaughter.

I just looked at the number on the top-right corner of the page - their Agency-appointed ID number. It was sort of like a serial number on a robot, I realized. That was the thought that set me on my path, because the difference, of course, is that a machine cannot truly die. The higher-ups don't see that difference, though. They want the job done, no matter who they have to sacrifice.

When I first saw agent Phoenix, the thought that bounced around in the back of my head was "I wonder what his number was."

Now I wonder if he realizes that that's all his agency sees him as.

[lawsvalentine]

Hii idk i saw u write for usopp so I had to 🏃🏾‍♀️. Can I please request a usopp smut where y/n likes him a lot but is conflict bc of him and Kaya but usopp also wants her. But after a emotional fight between they make love

I Like-Like You •Usopp x Fem!reader • (18+)

Live-Action!Usopp

CW: slight angst, jealous!reader, clueless!Usopp, kissing, implied sexual content

Cee’s Note: AHHHH ty for requesting LA!Usopp! He is so damn fineee 😮‍💨 i hope you like this and sorry this took so long. Also I didn’t go full smut bc I didn’t want to rush it sorry

[minors do NOT interact; explicit content ahead]

“So there I was….”

Usopp pauses for dramatic effect, “Surrounded!” He suddenly springs out of his seat, hands spread out in front of him, slowly backing away.

You and the rest of the crew were gathered on the deck, entertaining Usopp’s made up stories. Despite his stories being so outrageous and ridiculous, you couldn’t help but to find it endearing the way he gets so expressive when he tells them.

As Usopp continued reenacting the battle he never fought, your concentration started to waver as your eyes wandered to the way his physique moved from under his suspenders. He wasn’t wearing a shirt so his broad shoulders and biceps would unintentionally flex as he moves around.

‘Damn, he’s fine as hell’ you thought as you not so subtly checked him out.

But as soon as that thought came, you shook it out of your head. No point in those thoughts when he is clearly in love with Kaya. The thought of her immediately frustrated you. You joined the crew after Sanji so you were not present for the events that happened in Syrup Village, but you heard plenty about the “kiss” Usopp and Kaya shared.

You have had a crush on Usopp since you first met him, so when you first heard about the kiss, your heart shattered at the thought of him kissing someone else.

Suddenly you weren’t in the mood to be sociable with the crew anymore. You stood out of your seat, catching the attention of your crewmates.

“Y/N, wait, I’m just getting to the good part!” Usopp exclaims excitedly.

“Sorry, I’m not feeling so well. Maybe later, Usopp”

You don’t miss the disappointment in Usopp’s face at your words.

“Would you like some tea, Y/N? I’ll be sure to make it nice and hot just like you,” Sanji winks.

Zoro groans, “That’s your worst one yet, waiter”

The two start bickering and that was your queue to head towards the sleeping quarters.

.

You tried sleeping your sorrows away but to no avail. A few moments past and you hear a knock at the door. You call for them come in as you stood from the bed. The door opens slightly and the cute dread-head pokes his head through the crease. He has his usual dopey smile on his face that made you feel butterflies every time.

“Hey Y/N, I know you said you weren’t in the mood for stories but I promise they will cheer you up! It always worked for Kaya,” Usopp said excitedly as he shut the door behind him.

Your face fell at the mention of her name and suddenly you felt yourself feeling aggravated that he brought her up.

“Well, I’m not Kaya,” you snapped.

Your tone caught Usopp off guard and his dopey smile was soon replaced with a frown.

“I never said you were…” Usopp said, confusion written on his face, “I was just trying to help, what’s your problem?”

You scoffed, “My PROBLEM is you always bringing her up. Kaya this! Kaya that! You won’t shut up about her!”

Ok you were definitely trippin, but you didn’t care at this point. You couldn’t take this anymore.

Usopp blinked, “So you’re mad….that I talk about Kaya?”

You groan in frustration, you swear you might have to spell it out for him.

“I don’t wanna hear about little miss perfect whom you grew up with, alright,” you swallow the lump in your throat. This is was getting too much for you.

“Ok but why-“

“BECAUSE I LIKE YOU ALRIGHT!” you confessed.

Next thing you knew, you started to word vomit everything you have been holding in since you met him.

“I like you and not just as a friend, I like-like you! It just hurts every time you mention her because, I’m reminded that you two have known each other since you were kids and you two kissed and I dunno how to compete with that. But whatever, you probably don’t feel the same way, I get it! Just forget I even…mmph”

Your words were cut off by Usopp’s lips smashing against yours. Your hands flew up in shock and you stood frozen as his plump lips moved against yours. With the feeling of his hands gripping your waist slightly and his soft lips against yours, you finally allowed yourself to melt into the kiss. Your arms snaking around his neck as he slightly lifts you, laying your back against the bed, him following on top. You feel his tongue trace your bottom lip for access which you grant him. A soft moan escapes your lips as his tongue grazes yours.

After a few moments, you break the kiss to catch your breath.

“Usopp?” You were still shocked by Usopp’s bold move.

His shyly smiled at your expression, “I like-like you too, Y/N”

“But what about-“

“Yes I did have feelings for Kaya but I can’t deny what I feel for you,” Usopp confessed.

You blinked, still skeptical if this was real or maybe just another one of his lies.

“How will I know if you’re being serious?”

He smirked and slightly rolled his hips against yours, feeling his hard on through his jeans.

“Let me show you”

.

.

Cee’s note: part 2 with smut? 👀

[zee-143]

Just random Bsf! Bang Chan thoughts :)

A/N: I tried something new💜🤭 and idk if I should continue this with other members 😭

Genre: Fluff☁️✨

Group: Stray Kids

Group member: Bang Chan

Warnings: Noneee

Chan is clingy

I think we all know this by now. He acts clingy around his members so why wouldn't he act the same way around you. His best friend.

Now obviously, at the beginning of your friendship, Chan wasn't as clingy

He was honestly just friendly and comforting towards you. Which you did find very refreshing. He always made your comfortability a 1# priority (such a sweet heart 🤭♥)

As the friendship progressed, you noticed how much Chan really enjoyed hugs. Or anything affectionately physical.

He'd place his head on your shoulder/ your head

Randomly holding your hand

Hugging you from behind was a common occurrence

When you asked about it he'd always say "You just feel really warm! "

It obviously flattered you that he wanted to be close to you 24/7, but when you needed space he didn't hesitate to give you that

It was especially cute when he hugged you and flashed the iconic " :] " smile

He loved when you asked HIM for assistance with anything.

He'd immediately jump at an opportunity to help his best friend

Whether it's a simple question or you need someone to vent to, he WILL always be there for you

You always return to favor (though he always tells you it's fine) by buying him food or maybe a hoodie. Something sweet

As your bestie, Chan will always find an opportunity to tease you

It's always light teasing though

He doesn't want to offend you, not at all!

But compliments are also a promise

Whether it be through text or in person or even through one of his group members he will find a way to compliment you Every. Single. Day

^Also listen to this song omfg. It's so good. If u wanna that is :] What I was listening to while writing this lol😭

[iftheshoef1tz]

I Come With Knives

Azris, 13k words, rated E.

A party on the continent, hosted by one of Koschei’s lackeys, goes awry. Nearly magicless, Azriel and Eris must survive on the continent together or die trying. Inspired by The Nutcracker, with a helping of Polish folk tales.

I’m so pleased to finally post this for my sweet friend, @krem-does-stuff!! I was so excited to get you for this year’s @acotargiftexchange, and I hope you enjoy it! Your theories about what my TikToks could mean had me rolling with laughter, because you were rather wrong, haha. I have so many more rat/Nutcracker-related TikToks to send you, and hopefully they’ll make (slightly) more sense once you’ve read this. I tried to incorporate all the desserts you gave me (raspberries are very important in this), and I tried to write Eris in a way that was new to me but still believable and delightfully mean.

Special thanks to @witch-and-her-witcher, @queercontrarian, and @yanny-77 for their beta skills; to Cee and Emma again for saying “send the TikTok” and holding my hand through the usual self-doubt; @pippsmcgee for shaking this fic until nearly all the present continuous fell out of it; @velidewrites for helping me translate a few things into Polish; @damedechance for helping me find something dirty to say; and, ofc, Dylan O’Brien. You know why.

Read on ao3.

Azriel stares out at the crowd, at the finery draped over every inch of this infernal castle, and he can almost pretend nothing is wrong. His leathers – he had refused to wear something more formal – creak as he shifts his weight, though it’s eaten up by the merry shouting of the crowd.

This invitation had come, bristling with glitter and tied with a ribbon, from one of the lesser noble houses of a small duchy close to the border with Rask. The duke and duchess were newly appointed and quite young, only in their eighties. Let bygones between continent and island be bygones, the invitation had crowed.

It stunk of a trap, and Azriel had come because there was no one else who could.

Rhys had Feyre, Nyx, and a death bargain no one could undo. They couldn’t spare Cassian, never mind that Nesta wasn’t ever letting Cassian out of her sight again. Mor and Lucien never figured into the equation, Lucien because he wasn’t stupid, and Mor because she wasn’t authorized by the Queen of Vallahan to go anywhere else on the continent.

It’s Amarantha all over again. None of the original players are here, of course; none of them would be so stupid. But apparently not smart enough to stay out entirely.

[corellianhounds]

3. What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

Ugh okay yes I have like a bunch of these, but I did settle on one that I just don’t know when I’d be able to figure it out. There’s too much setup involved to make it what I want. The context is that it’s a Prospect/Mandalorian crossover, the events of Prospect happening differently where Damon lives, but Cee still ends up escaping with Ezra.

Damon hires Mando to find Cee and their harvest after she disappears with Ezra, and once Mando finally tracks them down he’s shocked to see someone with his face walking around in the open. The whole time the plot’s happening he’s suspicious and unnerved by this stranger sharing his voice and face, and though his research into the backlog of Guild cases doesn’t reveal any details of this guy’s origin or personal life, it does give him plenty of information regarding Ezra’s colorful criminal history

However, Damon’s history isn’t much better, and Mando suspects he’s just better at hiding some of the more unsavory things he’s done. He also finds that Cee, according to his research, has been logged as Damon’s harvesting partner for almost ten years despite the fact this girl is clearly only about fifteen years old, and the kind of harvesting Damon’s done in the outer reach is a two-man job; you can’t afford dead weight, even if it’s to keep your kid with you. Does Damon want his daughter back, or does he want his assistant back?

Mando’s having to deliberate over who between Damon and Ezra is a bigger threat to this girl’s safety. Did Cee really choose Ezra because she trusts him and Ezra is trustworthy, or because she's being forced to choose the lesser of two evils?

—

Mando kept his pistol on Damon, but then he unhooked his rifle from his back, cocked it one handed and aimed it at Ezra—

— Only for Cee to step in front of him.

There was a scuffle of protests— Ezra tried to wrest her behind him but she shoved him back. Mando primed the charge on the rifle and Ezra raised both arms, hissing at Cee— Damon made as if to move for the girl, Mando grunted and stepped closer to Damon. Damon halted his approach, and Ezra and Cee argued while Cee blocked Mando's aim.

"Don't," Cee growled. "We trusted you."

"Listen, kid," Mando said levelly. "I don't know which between the two of them is worse, and I don't like the idea of you having to choose the better of two bad options."

"He's— He didn't coerce me," Cee protested.

"Didn't he?" Damon snarled.

"Shut up." Mando continued to watch the girl. "I don't know that, Cee. And I don't know if you're only saying that because you feel like it’s the only way to get away from your father."

Damon seethed. Ezra's wide eyes were stricken, watching the Mandalorian as Cee's shoulders tensed further. Either he was as good of an actor as Mando thought, or he truly did care for the girl. If it weren't for Cee's stubbornness shoving him back, Mando might have believed he'd step in front of her.

"Cee, I'm telling you to make the decision you want and know that if the answer is neither, you can walk away and get on that freighter of your own accord and go wherever you want. There's a bag of credits on my belt. I have a vested interest in bringing both of them into the Guild, and I won't move until you're safe. I can stand here a long time."

The silence between them hung like a ship in stasis as Cee glared. There was only a moment when Cee's gaze flicked to Damon, some silent conversation happening between them, and then she hooked one hand into the shoulder belt of Ezra's flight suit, pulling him just to the side, still behind her. "He's coming with me.”

Damon swore in a litany of languages as Mando nodded. "Okay."

"And we're going with you."

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