#HE FUCKIN KNEW IT WAS HIS EZRA

[chopper-base]

"Hi, Hera. Im home."

Excuse me. I'm going to go cry myself to sleep now-

[beefrobeefcal]

The Mouse Turned Little Bird feat. Frankie Morales, Ezra & f!reader

Summary: The lead up to dinner was stressful - but are you ready to take it further? Part 3 of There are Other Fish in the Sea

Pairing: Frankie, Ezra & Mouse | Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI) | Word Count: 2,052

Content Warnings: Kissing, mentions of food, overcooked salmon, unseasoned quinoa, wine, playing hooky from work, deep thoughts, deep feelings, Ezra being a patient wonderful human being, Ezra also has two arms (sorry for not mentioning that previously)

Author's Notes: Mouse is trying, y'all... she really wants to move on and get better, but as we all know, healing isn't linear.

Thank you to @strang3lov3 and @noxturnalpascal for brainstorming this with me, and to @bitchesuntitled, @mothandpidgeon and @neverwheremoonchildfor their eyes and love.

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You couldn’t sleep. 

Despite the initial joy you got from rebuffing Frankie and getting a yes from Ezra, you weren’t able to settle. The day’s events, while not enough to move mountains, had moved you a little farther on your path to…

Fuck.

You had no idea where this path was leading you or if there even was a path. Maybe you were lumbering through dense forest towards a chasm, or wandering aimlessly through a desert. Or maybe there was a path, but it was the wrong one and you were trudging to certain doom and not self discovery. 

The room was so quiet as you laid back and blinked in the dark, thoughts and worries swirling in your head as your heartbeat thrummed loudly in your ears. You felt guilty on top of the uncertainty. The guilt gnawed at you; Benny had opened up his home and put the relationship with his brother and his best friends below you and you felt that there was nothing you could do to repay him or even let him know how much you appreciated it. 

But there was something else, under that guilt, picking away the last bit of shrunken-in-the-night confidence you had left - regret.

Regret for denying Frankie the chance to show you he was a better man now and regret for perhaps moving on to Ezra too soon. What if Frankie was truly sorry? What if Ezra was no better? What if you still loved Frankie and you could never love Ezra?

Why the fuck am I thinking about loving Ezra? I wonder how big his dick is.

Your face skewed in shock at yourself. 

“I didn’t mean that.”, you hissed out in urgency, as if that would atone for the alleged sin of thinking about Ezra’s manhood. You paused, waiting to see if someone would answer then you furrowed your brow.

“Who the fuck am I talking to?”

*****

You’d taken a sick day since you got so little sleep, opting to stay in bed and mull over the irony of a sick day while you had a work-from-home job. After texting Benny to let him know, you tossed your phone down and rolled over.

There was a knock at your door, then it opened and cats came in, wailing their morning song, followed by Benny carrying two cups of coffee.

“So you’re moping.”

“M’not moping.”, you groaned into your pillow.

“Hey, man - I am all for taking advantage of sick days, but you’re not sick. You’re moping.”

Benny places the coffee cups on your bedside table and sat on the end of the bed, then laid back, his head on your blanketed calf.

You shifted your leg in irritation and huffed, and he in turn grabbed your ankle from under the blanket and tugged gently.

“Tell me again why I should go away and abandon you for a weekend?”

“Benny…”, you sighed.

“Just say the word, Mouse. I’ll stay.”

You said nothing because you knew your silence was enough of an answer.

You both laid there quietly for a period of time, the cats both joining you on the bed, and you were just about to lull off to the sound of Bagels purring as he rolled up in the crook of your neck when Benny spoke, the shit eating grin on his face apparent in his tone. 

“You’ve got a fuckin’ date tonight.”

*****

Benny left for work, taking his packed bag with him and said he would see you Sunday night, and you spent the day tidying up the apartment. Grocery shopping 2.0 was far more successful and you got the items you needed for making dinner.

You knew Ezra was not a vegan or vegetarian - based on his declared love of trying exotic meats on his travels, and you knew he did not like mashed potatoes, given the face he made when another patron at the bistro mentioned them and he responded with, “Solanum tuberosum was meant for roasting and nothing else, friend, Saying otherwise is an affront to nature herself.”

The memory made you smile, recalling how Ezra smirked and winked at you after you googled what a slolanim toobera som was and mouthed Potato? at him.

*****

You buzzed Ezra up to the apartment and nervously fixed your dress. You heard his footsteps in the hallway and preemptively opened the door. His hand was up, ready to knock, and his eyebrows were raised. You both look at each other, nervous excitement charged between you.

“You are an eager host, little bird.”

Even though you forgot the salt in the quinoa and the salmon was over cooked, Ezra never let on that there was anything wrong. He talked at length about him and his life, and repeatedly gave you the chance to step in and share, which you did albeit cautiously. His eyes never carried judgment - just curiosity, like the kind you might find in the eyes of someone trying to solve a riddle. And he didn’t prod too deeply, but  rewarded you with his smile when you did share.

“Any more family beyond Benny?”, he queried as he took a bite of very well done salmon.

“Benny has a brother, but he and I are… we’re not close.”

Ezra nods. “I, too, have family that I find associating with beyond my mother’s annual yule note to be grating.” He took a sip of wine. “Which is why I firmly believe in the family you make.”

You nodded and watched him. You wanted to know why he took such an interest with you. You’d wondered aloud to Benny once, asking if certain people were drawn to broken things and if so, was it because they wanted to take advantage of someone in a vulnerable state. Benny had smiled and responded with, “Some people are just tinkerers and want to help fix broken things.”

Benny’s words had reminded you of Frankie and his innate need to pull apart engines and electronics and rebuild them in a way he thought was better - like he wanted to control the make-up of the things around him and make them work better for him. Maybe even you fell under that banner.

Ezra didn’t seem like that. Less concerned with control, he was more of a poet: he watched and observed and made commentary. He seemed to be more along the lines of ‘let the pieces fall where they may’ and that is what drew you to him. But what was it about you?

“How long have you lived with Ben - “

“What’s the catch?”

He raised his brows at you and put his wine glass down, huffing a chuckle. “Catch?”

You nodded, grinning slightly and leaning in. “You said yes to coming for dinner after I left you in a panic. I’m just curious.”

He sucked his teeth a bit and sat back, crossing his arms. 

“You looked lost when you darkened my doorway the first time.” Looking you over, he seemed to be contemplating how to answer. “You seemed to find yourself a little more each time you sat across the bartop from me. And the more I saw of that little bird, the more I wanted to know why she could not fly.”

Your question was answered.

*****

After the table was cleared, you stood in front of the kitchen sink, rinsing the dishes before loading them into the dishwasher.

“Mouse.”, he murmured softly.

You looked up at him, but he wasn’t looking at you. He was looking at a picture on the fridge - the one that was torn in half, its partner probably thrown out or burned. It was you and Benny from a few years ago, both wearing shirts with your names crudely spray painted across them. The other side of the picture that held Will, Santi, Hannah and Frankie was left behind in your old home.

Ezra kept his eyes trained on you in the photo, leaning in, and his index finger gently grazed the torn, ragged edge. You swallowed, wondering if his mind was trying to imagine what the missing piece held that rendered it unwanted, and solve another riddle you had set out for him. The longer he stayed quiet, the more fidgety and anxious you felt.

“I assumed Mouse was a pet name reserved only for those in your inner circle.”, he mused softly, taking one last look at the photo before turning to you with a lopsided smile. “You prefer Mouse or…”

You let go of the breath you were holding with a nod, relief washing over you. You moved toward him in a few small, slow steps. “Uh - Mouse was a nickname from when I was a kid that stuck. I- uh, didn’t really have a say. I… I kinda like Little Bird - but you can call me Mouse. Whatever you want.”

The nervous, forced titter of a laugh that you ended with made his eyes soften. Ezra nodded, turning his body towards you. He grinned, giving you a flash of his gold tooth. “Then I dub thee Little Bird.”

****

“... and I made Benny swear that he’d go to his grave with it, but I’m sure my mom knew something was up - how could she not?”

Ezra’s eyes creased as he laughed. “You are as devious as you are beautiful.”

As you sat on the couch, turned towards one another, both nursing a second glass of red wine. God, you wanted to kiss him. That freckle on his neck, the dimple on his cheek… you imagined kissing him and running your tongue over the golden tooth in his mouth. His fingers played the sleeve of your shirt and his eyes softened and darted to your lips and back up.  His jaw ticked as if he were weighing his options and deciding on his next move, seemingly thinking the same thing as you were.

“A conundrum you are, Little Bird.” His voice was so soft, yet it held so much power. “Sublime, soft, sweet, vexxed - but wounded.”

Your face heated up and you looked down at your glass of wine, clutched in your hand. You mulled over how much to share with him; you didn’t want to scare Ezra away, but you felt he deserved to know at least something about where you had come from.

“The last guy I was with… He and I had- well, we ended things at a low point… badly.”

He shook his head, hushing you. “You don’t have to tell me if you’re - “

“He had issues and I couldn’t- didn’t help. Communication was not his strong suit and eventually, it felt like I didn’t know him anymore. And… he hurt- we hurt each other. A lot. And he cheated on me.”

Raising your gaze, you looked at him, cautiously, waiting for the fallout. Instead you met with Ezra leaning in, taking your wine glass and putting it aside, and pressing a soft kiss to your lips. He lingered there for a moment. As he moved to pull away your hand came up to his face, silently begging him to not stop. He pushed in further, running his tongue along your bottom lip, and you opened your mouth. It was nothing like you imagined; for the last six years, you’d only ever kissed Frankie and his kiss was dominant and forceful, like a freight train. Ezra though - his unfolded like a slow, enchanting dance. There was nothing rushed and you felt as though you were falling hard for him.

It was too soon. Too fast. You barely knew him outside of the almost two months you’d spent sitting at the bar and tonight’s dinner. Your mind began to panic, racing with the thought of Frankie’s crestfallen face as you rejected him and now you were kissing another man so soon after.

You parted from him, clenching your eyes and you rested your forehead against his. His large hand held your jaw, his thumb soothing over your cheek and murmured, “Little Bird…”

Sitting back, you felt foolish and vulnerable, but you forced yourself to speak.

"I... I don't think I'm ready. Ezra, I - I'm sorry." He took your hand in his and rubbed his thumb along the grooves in your palm. 

"You'll take flight again, Little Bird. And when you're ready, I'll be there to help open your cage."

Oh fuck me. 

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[stealingpotatoes]

Invitation to talk about Sayuri and Nymie?

:D CAN OF WORMS: OPENED!! i'll tell u abt how they got found as Jedi

ok so Sayuri is one of the students that doesn't rlly go home bc there isn't much to go back to. Basically her parents were Rebellion pilots (or one was a pilot the other a mechanic. kinda unsure) but were both killed in action against the Empire abt 3-4ABY ish. obvs the Rebellion couldn't look after a 7-8yo while fighting the Empire

so the remainder of the squad manage to get her back to her parents' home village/ where she was born. so having like Everything change all at once leaves her pretty ?? and gives her some serious trusting-her-environment issues. her coolgirl "i dont care" persona is very much a result of this bc she's worried abt getting too comfy in smthn. (which is at odds w the OTHER issue she got from this event which is "deathly afraid of flying" an issue not helped if Master "traffic laws are just guidelines" Skywalker is piloting. but she tries 2 act like shes fine)

this is gonna get kinda long so im gonna smack some unposted art here and then go into a readmore

anyway fast forwarding to when Sayuri's abt 13 (roughly 9aby) she's visiting her parent's old squadron on a New Republic bc they'd all come visit whenever she could and after the Empire's fall they did a lot more pick her up and fly her to a base to ALL see her. and they're like omg Sayuri you came at the PERFECT time bc this rlly amazing pilot war hero who's also some like. mystical whatever is here!! he's on his way to some magic place we heard. maybe u can meet him!! which sayuri meets w her usual whatever bc she's not that gassed abt war heroes.

very worth noting that the squad's probably all seen her move shit with her mind, but theyre like oh you know how it is with teenage girls. the "nobody knows what a jedi is" + "the empire existed for a decent bit of her childhood" thing has kept anyone from being like yeahh sayuri should like. talk to someone abt this.

anyway she goes along when the squad are like c'mon let's see if we can see him. ok the only way i can describe this is you know the spiderverse like... spidey-sense recognition thing? that's basically what happens LOL Luke and Sayuri both have a FORCE USER RECOGNISED?? moment and Luke then makes a beeline for her then realises oh shit tiny teenager not jedi. would you LIKE to be a jedi?? and sayuri who hates her village and is feeling the strongest emotional connection she's felt in forever w this stranger she met 2 seconds ago is like okay fuckin sure yeah. and woo jedi!!

i posted my unposted nymie art yesterday but likkeeee pretend theres some here <3

So Sayuri falls into the "one of the Jedi found them thru the force or by chance" category of students who get found. However Nymie very much falls into the second category, which is "CAN SOMEONE DEAL WITH THIS WEIRD SUPERPOWERED CHILD FOR US????"

So 2 things about Nymie: 1. like i've said before, she's from a very rich high class pantoran family. super stuck up, mostly raised by nannies & tutors, but somehow Nymie just didn't get the stuck-up genes like all her (4!!) siblings who are just obsessed w their social standing etc and is instead just :D all the time. 2. her proficiency ig is the living force esp in the 'good at connecting to animals' way (which I think means I legally need to draw her w Ezra).

so the former often led her to escaping her family's stuffy parties and galas or whatever (usually to whoever's house it is' garden or somewhere she wasnt meant to be) to find something interesting. usually a pet <3 one particular time when she was 9 she was following her Pet Sense but couldnt find anything in the house. so she kinda just reached out more and long story short thats how Nymie managed to call this hugemassive beast (i'd tell u what it was if i knew pantoran animals LOL) out of the nearby countryside to her. massively distressing for everyone, all these rich ppl were like "OH MY GOD I NEARLY DIED" (it didnt attack anyone). very funny exciting time for Nymie who was enjoying this new beastie friend til animal control showed up. saddening. everyone is confused bc HOW did that happen

a dude old (and cool) enough to have seen more than one jedi in their heyday (+ idk uni researcher knows his shit) noticed what happened w it going straight to Nymie and overheard her account and realised what happened and was like hi nymie's parents. i think u need to get into contact w the new republic bc thats a jedi right there (which they take and go oo social climbing. we have a jedi child people will think we're cooler. bc theyre assholes)

and yeah im losing steam now but luke shows up and she joins the academyyay!

[sixhours]

WIP Wednesday

Thanks for the tags @march-flowerr and @bumblepony! I also got tagged for some last line games by @luxurychristmaspudding and @marceltheshellwithflipflopson so I'm merging them and you get a big 'ol WIP.

Feeling a lil shy about sharing this story because it’s a bit outside my comfort zone, but I like where it’s going so far.

Tagging @frannyzooey @goodwithcheese @marceltheshellwithflipflopson @luxurychristmaspudding @sawymredfox and anyone else who wants to play, as always. <3

——————

When Joel was 17, he kissed a boy for the first time.

His name was Kenny Farmington, and they were both a little drunk on cheap beer and a nice Texas night and the special high that comes from being not quite a man and not quite a boy, stuck in that in-between time when it felt like anything was possible. Joel had a truck and a part-time job at Regis Construction and his whole life spread out before him like an open road.

It was a nice enough kiss. But when Joel opened his eyes after their lips parted and saw fear rather than lust in his friend’s eyes, he knew it ended there. Everyone knew Kenny’s dad was a raging homophobe who would “whoop his ass” if he thought his son might be “one of them dirty fuckin’ faggots”.

Joel wasn’t convinced his own father wouldn’t have had something to say about it had he known.

And, oh well. Joel liked girls, too. He liked them enough to bring Eileen Folsom home and make out with her in the basement rec room at her parents’ house until his cock was weeping and his balls were blue. He liked them well enough to get to third base with Cindy Sherwood in the back of his truck. He liked girls plenty.

It was the eighties, anyway. AIDS was spreading like wildfire, and small-town Texas was hardly the place to go looking for action if you weren’t straight as a goddamn arrow.

Four years later, Joel liked one particular girl enough to knock her up, and then he didn’t have much time to consider whether he’d want to kiss another boy, because he was going to be a father.

And then there was Sarah. And a divorce. And his parents died. And Tommy went off to war and came back, and there was overtime and working doubles to keep the roof over their heads and the payment on the truck up, and who the fuck had time to think about boys or girls or anyone in between.

And then there was cordyceps. And his daughter, his baby girl, bleeding out in his arms.

And then Joel didn’t spend much time thinking about what he liked at all. He kept going for the ones who needed him without a thought spared for himself.

And then came Ellie.

Ellie, who patched up his heart and turned his life upside down and made him care about something other than brute survival again. Tore down his walls and broke him open and somehow left him whole.

Whole, and…wanting.

Which is why, forty years after Kenny Farmington, he doesn’t feel bad about imagining another man’s face, or hands, or lips on his body when he strokes himself in the shower. He doesn’t feel ashamed when he gets off to the thought of another man’s mouth on his cock. It’s not the first time he’s been attracted to a man, and it won’t be the last.

No, he feels bad because that man is his daughter’s fucking therapist. That man is someone she needs to trust, someone she raves about over dinner, someone who is, in her words, “so fucking cool”.

And his duty, first and foremost, is to Ellie.

So he tries not to imagine Ezra when his libido comes roaring back to life after years of dormancy, boiling his blood and making him feel half his age.

And he fails, miserably.

[tightjeansjavi]

𝕓𝕝𝕦𝕖 𝕛𝕖𝕒𝕟𝕤 𝕟’𝕋𝕖𝕩𝕒𝕤 𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞𝕤

𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝟜

Whiskey N’Cokes & Shitty Ex-Boyfriends

♡ 𓃗 ♡

Pre!Oubreak Joel x horseback riding instructor f!reader

~word count : 4.9k~

Summary: Joel Miller, single father; total soft dad has an astronomically enormous crush on you, his daughters horseback riding instructor.

Warnings: soft! Joel, shy! Joel, horny!awkward!Joel, protective! Joel, is doing his best!Joel, fluff, flirting, slow burn, sexual tension, brief horny thoughts, no use of (y/n), some angst, minor injury to a horse, some mentions of blood and stitching up a wound, triggering themes at the end, brief mentions of animal abuse (not by Joel or the reader but by the readers ex) if this is something triggering for you, please proceed with caution and do not read. (+18) minors dni!

blue jeans playlist:

Austin, Texas

It had started off as any other normal Wednesday. You were at the barn till around 5, turning the horses out to pasture for the evening. There was talk of a big storm rolling through later in the night. Most would believe that keeping the horses out in the pasture, through that kind of weather, would be cruel. However, they were far safer out in an open space, than crammed in their stalls. Horses were more likely to get injured in their stalls, versus being out in the pasture. Injuries could be sustained anywhere.

Your boys were pretty used to the elements, sans Frankie. He had Ezra to watch over him, and keep him calm at least but you worried about that horse more than you cared to admit.

Despite your concerns, you knew you had to leave and head home to change and start your second job; bartending.

Owning horses, let alone 6, was costly. Between vet bills, grain, supplements and hay, you had no other choice but to find another source of income. Everyday after working at the barn, you’d work a few hours at the local bar. Tips were good at least and you knew the owner pretty well. Weekends you’d work the late shift despite the owner telling you to go out and live a little.

In your eyes, the horses would always come before anything else. They were your main priority.

Business was steady for the next few hours, most of your customers were locals, but there would be the stray tourist every now and then.

The men would flirt with you and you’d laugh it off each time. You couldn’t help the fact that you were just a naturally bubbly individual.

You were pouring a Long Island iced tea for a local college student when your handsome, Texas tall glass of water strode in. You didn’t see him at first, you were too busy taking the next customer's order but boy, did he see you.

The town was small, and almost everyone knew each other, so he shouldn’t have been that surprised to see you behind the bar top at his favorite joint. He was, however, frozen on the spot momentarily. How lucky he was to get to see you outside your element, to be in your presence.

Yes, Joel Miller had an astronomical fucking crush on you.

Did he unashamedly check you out from where he stood? He did indeed. The first thing he noticed was your black fitted tee, it hugged you in all the right places, leaving just enough to his imagination. However when he saw you reach for a bottle on the top shelf, in the tightest pair of jean shorts his eyes ever had the pleasure of seeing, his breath hitched in his throat.

Jesus age Christ, you looked good in just about anything. For a brief moment, Joel thought about how pretty you’d look flushed against him, ass to his crotch, and—fuckin’ hell, Joel. Keep it together man. This is your daughter's horseback riding instructor for fuck sakes.

He still had time to turn back around, leave the bar while he still had the chance. Now, wouldn’t that just be a little too easy? Tommy had urged him earlier that day to go out and live a little. Joel didn't do too much with his time outside of work, and taking care of Sarah. Work and his daughter were his main priority.

He didn’t turn around and leave the bar. His brain was quite literally screaming at him to leave. Go home, and pretend he never saw you here. Instead, his boot clad feet were already moving to the open seat at the bartop.

He waited till you were close enough to hear him, to even perhaps feel his presence from where you were fixing together another Texas style margarita. He turned his nose up at the amount of sugar he imagined was inhabited in that excuse for a drink. It smelled, and looked like an impending hangover waiting to happen.

“Fancy seein’ you here tonight darlin’.

There it was, that familiar, warm southern drawl that sent your heart, and brain for a loop. Your handsome, Texas tall glass of water was sitting at your bartop.

“Joel?” To say you were surprised to see him here was an understatement.

He looked around, his eyes wandering around the bar area as if there possibly was another man named Joel that you could be speaking of.

“That’s my name, darlin’ I don’t see any other Joel’s ‘round here. Do you?” He mused.

You made eye contact with him after handing the girl her drink. You wiped your hands along a towel, tucking it into the belt loop of your shorts as you stood in front of him. “Nope, you’re the only Joel Miller that I know. Consider yourself special.”

He grinned up at you. Those stupid big brown eyes of his detected how flustered you were and you wanted to smack him with your little notebook. Did he really need to be wearing that tight of a flannel? Wasn’t he hot? it was absolutely boiling outside—

“I Take it you're surprised to see me? The feelin’ is mutual. Been comin’ to this place for years and ain’t ever seen you here.”

“Maybe you just weren’t looking hard enough.”

“Find that hard to believe when you’re pretty damn hard to miss. This your hobby or somethin’?”

“Unfortunately, no. This is actually my second form of income. Taking care of 6 horses is costly, so I bartend everyday after work, and take the late shifts on the weekends.”

“Wow. No kiddin’? You ever make time for yourself? Pretty thing like you, hanging out with these old geezers?” He didn’t know where his sudden boldness came from, but as soon as the word ‘pretty’ slipped past his plush lips, he could feel his face and neck heating up from his confession.

Did Joel Miller just call you pretty? It must have been the heat getting to his head. Yeah, that’s the logical reason behind it.

“Well, these old geezers tip pretty well. Sometimes I’ll throw in a little extra smile, and maybe a wink or two. Whatever pays the bills, right?”

You watched as Joel brought his hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it nervously. You could see the sweat beading along his forehead and it looked like at any second now one of those damn buttons were going to burst along the seams.

“Well, I’m relieved to hear that they tip ya well. So then you don’t go and hang out with friends n’stuff like that? Or like a boyfriend or somethin’ You got one of those?” Please say no. He silently thought to himself.

You raised an eyebrow in his direction, crossing your arms over your chest and when he got just a glimpse, a mere taste of your cleavage, you could see the muscle of his broad biceps, twitch and stretch the worn fabric of his ridiculously tight flannel.

“On a very rare occasion I’ll meet my friends for drinks. As for if I have a boyfriend or not? I don’t. Unfortunately, I have an ex that comes around here every now and then. If I have one word of advice for you Joel, it’s to never shit where you eat.”

So you didn’t have a boyfriend and by the sounds of it, you were over your ex which means..let’s not get ourselves carried away here. For all Joel knows, you don’t think of him in any way outside of a professional stance. He was going to have to play this cool. Last thing he wanted to do was potentially scare you away.

“Ahh. The classic workplace romance? How’d you manage to get caught up in that? If you don’t mind me askin’ of course. Don’t wanna intrude.”

You laughed and uncrossed your arms from your chest. “I’ll give you a quick rundown, but first, can I get you something to drink?”

“Whiskey and coke.” He stated his order smoothly, like he had it a 100 times before. It was a classic choice, sweet with some boldness, and very much what you expected Joel to order.

“On a school night Miller? What would Sarah think?” You lightly teased. Grabbing a glass as you fixed together his drink.

He responded with a light chuckle, leaning back against the bartop stool, stretching his flannel even more. “Well, actually my younger brother Tommy is watchin’ her for the night. He actually suggested that I get out and live a little tonight so here I am.”

“Starting the night off strong with a good old whiskey and coke. I like your style, Miller.” You slid the glass over to him with a wink.

he nearly folded in that goddamn chair right then and there. Your wink alone was giving him heart palpitations. “I hate to break it to ya, but I ain’t much of a partier darlin’. Those days are long over for me.”

“Oh bullshit you aren’t. How old are you anyway? I mean, you don’t look like an old man by any means.”

Holy fuck. Now you were being the ballsy one. It was apparent that you brought it out of each other, in the best way possible.

He raised a brow at you over the rim of his glass, taking a long sip, his eyes locked on yours. “I appreciate you sayin’ I don’t look like an old man darlin'. I’m 34, but who’s really countin’ right? Sarah will probably tell ya that I have to wear diapers soon.”

You giggled, and it was the sweetest fucking sound Joel’s ears had ever heard. Fucking adorable, like seriously. You were so goddamn cute and he felt like a little school boy meeting his crush on the playground for the first time. Giggles and whispers would be shared as you would swing on the swing set together. Dream, soar, pretending you were two birds flying above the clouds as your swings would go higher, and higher—

“Damn, I wasn’t going to put you a day past 25. Now, don’t you go and let that get to your head, alright? I’m not giving out flattery for free over here.”

“I’m touched that you think I’m that young darlin’. Not that 34 isn’t young, but I’m startin’ to feel it in my back and it’s a fuckin’ pain in my ass.” He took another long sip before he set the glass down, keeping his hand lightly grasped around it because the cooling condensation was the only thing keeping him sane at that moment.

“The evil 30’s, and the impending back pain that comes along with it, truly is such a bitch.”

He cleared his throat as he looked up at you. He was curious to know how old you were as well. He had his speculations that you weren’t that far off from his age. “What about you darlin’? How old are you?”

“Just turned 30 this March. Who’s really counting though, like you said.”

“Damn, sugar. So you’re a cougar then? Wait, no. I’ve gotten that all wrong sweetheart. What would I be called, a manther? Is that even a thing? He asked suggestively, his tone came across in a teasing manner.

This had you reaching out and lightly swatting his bicep with your hand at his suggestion.

“A cougar, really Joel? We’re 4 years apart, and you did get that all wrong. I’d have to be older than you to be considered a cougar. Maybe Sarah was right about you needing diapers soon, you dork. Besides, I’d have to be attracted to you in the first place—”

“Ouch. So you ain’t got a smidge of attraction to me? Not even just a little? Woundin’ me darlin.’ You’ve absolutely just gone and shattered my poor poor soul.” He dramatically clenched his fist against his chest, mocking the expression of pain from your words.

Although, it did sting a little, and he wondered if he had crossed a boundary with you unintentionally.

Oh god, was he just messing with you? Was he being serious? You were dumbly attracted to this man. You were feeling like a little school girl with a crush.

“Joel I’m sorry I didn’t mean—”

“Oh, just spare me the details and twist the knife a little deeper why don’t ya?”

You were visibly mortified as you stumbled over your words, trying to change the conversation.

“So, we’ve been flirtin’ with each other this entire time, and nothin? Just a little game we’re playin? Well, you got me grippin’ the edge of my seat darlin', that's for damn sure.”

You took a deep breath, weighing out your options as you chewed on the inside of your cheek.

“Okay. Yes, I find you to be attractive. This is definitely not how I wanted to put it out there but hey, what do I really have to lose right?”

“I’m sorry darlin’ I didn’t mean to make you feel like you needed to admit to it or anythin’ did I cross a line? I’m sorry. That was honestly a dick move on my part. I just think you’re really pretty and—”

“Joel, breathe. You didn’t cross a line or anything, I just haven’t had a crush on anyone in a really long time. So this just feels like new territory for me at the moment.”

“The feeling is absolutely mutual. S’cute that you got a crush on me though. Got a crush on you too. Got a crush on my daughters fuckin’ horse back ridin’ instructor.”

“What are we, 10 years old or something?” You giggled.

“Yep. We most definitely are. Gonna go home later and scribble your name all over my notebook with hearts n’shit around it.”

“Oh god, are you really?”

“There’s a high possibility darlin.’”

Both of your attention was drawn to one of the many tv’s in the bar. This specific one was showing the weather broadcast, and it did not look good at all. You immediately thought of Frankie and the rest of the horses.

“Shit.” You spoke suddenly.

“What’s wrong?” He tore his eyes from the TV as he looked back at you, a sense of worry stuck across his handsome face.

“This storm is going to be worse than I thought. The horses will be okay, and I have them turned out for the night but Frankie—”

“Doesn’t handle loud and sudden noises well.” Joel stated. He wasn’t kidding when he told you that he remembered every last detail about all 6 of your horses.

“Yeah. I’m sure he’s gonna be alright but I just..I worry about him so I’m gonna need to go and check on them before it gets worse out there. Hey, Joel? Can you just hang out here for a second? I’m gonna go ask my boss if I can cut out early.”

“Course darlin’. I ain’t goin’ anywhere. I can promise you that.”

You responded with a nod, leaving the bar top as you went and briefly told your manager the situation at hand. He let you clock out, and you reappeared with your bag over your shoulder. Joel already had his keys out, twirling them around his finger.

“C’mon let’s go. Hopefully the storm lets up till we get there. I might bring him and Ezra in for the night if that ends up being the case.”

“I’ve got my truck out front. I’ll drive, okay?”

“Perfect. I can just get my car later or something.”

The two of you headed out into the parking lot. The sky was pitch black, and you both could smell the approaching storm in the air as low rumbles of thunder were heard in the distance.

Joel was a total gentleman. He not only held the bar door open for you, but he was quick to open the passenger side door and give you a little boost. Despite the situation at hand, feeling his hands on your waist for a brief moment, sent a welcoming chill down your spine.

The drive to the barn was a quick one. Joel had glanced over in your direction briefly just as it had started to lightly rain and a bright flash of white hot lightning lit up the midnight black sky.

You were in a haste as he parked in the lot, you had the barn keys in hand as you rushed inside the building. Joel was close behind you as you made a quick stop at the tack room, grabbing Frankie and Ezra’s halters from their labeled hooks. Just as you were pulling open the back barn doors, the skies opened up and released a torrential downpour.

You nearly gave Joel whiplash with how fast you ran past him. Grabbing two flashlights, and two raincoats from your office. You threw him a flashlight along with the rain jacket as you slipped your muck boots on. “Well? You gonna come out there with me?” You looked at him expectantly.

“We don’t have much of a choice, right?” He turned the flashlight on before he slipped his arms through the sleeves of the raincoat.

“We don’t.” You confirmed.

The two of you headed out into the storm and were immediately smacked with the whipping rain. Your vision was blinded as you trudged through the muddy grass with your flashlights, and lightning strikes from above as your guideway.

You tucked your own flashlight under your armpit as you unlocked the pasture gate and pushed it open before trudging inside. It didn’t take you long to find 5 out of 6 horses huddled under the standing structure. Ezra gave you a gentle nicker when you shined your flashlight on him.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Joel, Frankie isn't here!”

Joel was already soaked to the bone despite the rain jacket and he too counted only 5 horses.

“Well he’s gotta be out there somewhere, right?”

You both heard a loud whinny coming from the back area of the pasture and before Joel could even stop you, you were running out from under the structure and towards the sound of the whinny.

“Darlin’! Wait!” He yelled out to you through the pounding rain.

Joel found you with a frightened Frankie against the far corner of the fence. He had sustained a decent sized gash along his front left cannon bone. It wasn’t deep enough to be severe but he would need medical attention.

Joel then saw the crack in the wooden fence where Frankie seemingly tried to escape from and was unsuccessful.

Despite the whipping wind, and pounding rain, you were gently talking to the frightened animal as you managed to get his halter and lead rope secured around him. “Easy now boy. I got you. You’re okay fella. Shh. Shh. Shh.” You gently stroked his neck as another bright flash of lightning lit up the sky, followed by a loud crack of thunder that had the fence trembling.

From where Joel was standing, he could see the whites of Frankie’s eyes from the flash of lightning.

“Darlin’! Is he hurt?!”

You started to carefully and slowly lead Frankie away from the fence. You had no choice but to take your time as he was limping due to the injury he sustained. “It’s okay Frankie. You’re okay fella. Gonna get you inside and fixed up? Alright? Good boy.”

When you were close enough to where Joel could hear you, you called out to him. “He’s got a decent gash on his front left cannon bone but it’s not deep. Just need to get him inside and I’ll take care of it. Can you put Ezra’s halter on and bring him in as well? They’re buddies.”

“Shit. He’s hurt? I don’t know darlin’ I’ve never—”

“Joel, please! I can’t bring them both in myself.” You briefly halted Frankie before sliding Ezra’s halter off your shoulder and handed it to Joel. “You can do this Joel, I know you can.”

Joel took the halter and lead rope from you and gave you a brief nod before he turned on his heel, and headed back to the standing structure. He walked inside and used his flashlight to locate Ezra from the others. Your horse was such a good boy he was already walking towards Joel, lowering his head so he could slip the halter on. “Hey, fella. Your friend is injured, and your mom said I gotta bring you inside with him. Can you help me out here? Cause I ain’t got a fuckin’ clue what I’m doin.’”

Ezra nickered softly in response, stopping in front of your yet-to-be-boyfriend. Joel remembered that the round part went around Ezra’s nose as he slipped it on. “Alright fella, this part goes over your ears, right? Yeah, I think so.” He slipped the headpiece of the halter over Ezra’s ears, and clasped the metal buckle through the metal ring.

Once he was confident that he had done it right, he grasped the lead rope in his hands and urged Ezra forward. By the time he had the halter secured, you and Frankie were close behind. Joel waited till you could walk alongside each other. He didn’t care about the rain, or the mud. He just wanted to make sure you and Frankie were safe.

Once the four of you were safely back inside the barn, you carefully hooked the crossties up to Frankie’s halter and had Joel put Ezra into Dieters stall Temporarily, as it was the closest to where Frankie was.

Joel watched as you tossed your soaking wet rain coat to the ground. You were completely zoned in on the task at hand as you disappeared into your office, grabbing all the medical supplies you needed for this minor wound.

“I’m gonna need you to gently hold his face while I’m doing this, okay? I’m gonna have to flush the wound out first, then apply some numbing cream to the surrounding area and then stitch him up.”

Joel watched as you grabbed the hose from the other side of the stall and turned the pressure on low, gently flushing out any dirt or debris from the gash along Frankie’s leg.

“He’s gonna be okay, right?”

You looked up at Joel from where you were crouched down and gave him a nod. “Yeah, he’ll be alright. It didn’t go deep, thankfully. Could have been a lot worse. He’s just gonna need some stall rest for a few days. He’ll be fine though Joel, don’t worry.”

After you flushed the wound out, you grabbed a white tub of numbing cream, dragging your fingers through the thick paste before you gently applied it to the area around the wound to numb it.

Frankie had side stepped from your touch, but Joel was right there, speaking softly to him and you felt a small smile tug on your lips as you heard him say, “Easy, fella. You’re alright. You’re doing great. Your mom is gonna fix you right up, just like she promised.” He cooed.

Once you finished applying the antiseptic cream, you started to suture the gash along Frankie’s leg. You were grateful for Joel, and his kind words, and soft tone as he spoke to Frankie.

Once you were finished, you wrapped Frankie’s leg in a specific bandage casing and let Joel lead him into his stall. You gave him antibiotics mixed into his grain and a few flakes of hay.

“Thank you so much for coming with me. I really don’t think I could have managed this on my own, Joel. I’m grateful that you were here.”

Joel looked over at you as he gave Frankie a gentle pat, stepping out of his stall and closed the stall door behind him.

“Of course, darlin’. It was no trouble at all. It’s a good thing my brother encouraged me to go out and live a little tonight, huh?”

“If I ever get the chance to meet him, I’ll personally thank him.” You let out a sigh, feeling exhausted from the situation. You were caked in mud and your hands were stained with Frankie’s blood.

“You uh—need me to do anythin’ else?”

“Yeah, can you grab a few flakes of hay for Ezra? I don’t think we can go anywhere in this storm, so we’ll have to wait it out. I’ll go grab us a couple of beers from the fridge in my office. It’ll make the time go by faster.”

“Sure, darlin’. No problem at all. I can handle that.”

Joel went to grab a few flakes of hay while you walked down to your office, grabbing a few towels and two beers from your mini fridge.

You set the towels down against Frankie’s and Ezra’s temporary stall for the night.

You sunk down against the towel, resting your head against the stall door and Joel joined you shortly after. He looked over at you and could just see the exhaustion etched into your face as you had your eyes closed. His shoulder lightly brushed yours as he sank down beside you, grabbing your beer and snapped the top off before grabbing his own.

“I almost forgot to tell you about my ex.” You finally spoke, peeking your eyes open to look over at him. You grabbed your beer, lightly tapping the rim against his, before you brought it up to your lips and took a swig.

He mirrored your actions, taking a small sip of his as he rested his head against the stall door, turning his head to look at you. “Only if you wanna tell me ‘bout him. Don’t feel like you’re pressured or anythin’, okay?”

“Nah, he’s a loser anyway. Like truly, a loser. Anyway, he followed me out here from California years ago. We dated all throughout highschool, and I thought we were gonna get married. Honestly, I think I was expected to marry him, but I’m glad that I never did. His family is big in the horse business as well. He mainly did western stuff and some events in the rodeo. Whiskey, actually used to be his up until 6 months ago.”

Joel was listening to you intently, his eyes stayed focused on your face and something was telling him that your ex was gonna turn out to be a real asshole. He just had this inclination to believe it.

“He didn’t…do anything to Whiskey, did he?”

You let out a sigh, taking another deep, long swig of your beer, letting it settle in your gut. “Not to Whiskey, no. Remember how I said Javi P has a deep distrust of men, for obvious reasons?”

“I remember you tellin’ me about that darlin’”

“Well, he thought Javi P was deemed as a dangerous horse. He didn’t want me to be around him and well, you can imagine how I took that. So, not only did he try to sell him back to slaughter, behind my back, He was fucking hitting him Joel. I couldn’t believe it. Literally. I was bringing a potential new client in for a tour, and we’re coming around the corner and I hear this noise, right? He’s literally punching Javi P in the face and then he gets bit.”

“You’re fuckin’ kiddin’ me sweetheart. Please tell me that you’re jokin.’ Who the fuck does that to an animal?” Joel was seething from where he sat next to you.

“I wish I was joking Joel. I really wish I was. Anyway, I caught him in the act, called the cops and he was arrested on the spot. He’s charged with animal neglect, charged a fine and he makes fucking bail. His parents bailed him out. However, I have a restraining order against him and he can’t come within a hundred yards of this place. Whiskey was signed over to me shortly after.”

“What a fuckin’ piece of shit. His parents bailed him out too? They’re no fuckin’ better than he is. What a sick fuck.”

You placed your hand along Joel’s bicep, gently squeezing it to bring him back to earth.

“He is a piece of shit, and his parents are no better, but he’s a fucking loser and he’s never gonna be able to redeem himself. I obviously felt betrayed, and heartbroken when it went down because I did love him, but the horses were there to bring me back up.”

“I don’t care, I’m still terribly sorry that you had to go through that shit. Poor Whiskey and Javi P too. That dude deserves so much better. He’s lucky that he has you.”

“That’s why I’ve been working so much with him cause I want to teach him some good for once in his fucking life, you know? He’s got a big personality but he’s such a good horse. I know he is.”

“If anyone is able to get through to him, I’m sure it’s gonna be you sweetheart.”

By the time you and Joel had finished off your beers, it was past 1 a.m and the storm hadn’t let up. He was telling you a story about him and his brother Tommy, back in his younger years, when you had dozed off. Your head came to gently rest upon his shoulder. He froze, not wanting to disturb you in your slumber. He ever so carefully, brought his arm around your shoulders so you could use it as your own personal pillow. He didn’t even care when his arm started to ache from the position it was in. He just wanted you to be comfortable.

Sometime after, he found himself turning his head, gently resting his chin along the top of your head, listening to the sounds of Frankie, and Ezra chewing their hay, nickering to each other, and the sound of the rain pounding on the metal roof.

Joel soon dozed off to the feeling of your soft breaths fanning his cheek, sending a warmth creeping down his spine, and a soft smile spread across his lips.

Part 5:

[onlyseokmins]

Spicy things I think abt a lot in rc...

Vying for Versailles:

All of it tbh specifically ft the amount of threesomes and Alexandre's debauched yearning and long ass smut scene whew

Hearts of Trespia:

REINHOLD

Whoever wrote that meme of "man loses everything and becomes 10x hotter" so true

I love Wyatt but reinhold is super special to ME his scenes were hot and kinda unhinged for no reason grrr

The first smut scene is so intimate and tender :(

Rage of the Titans:

Considering mc's goddess incarnation and yet she can sleep w/ like every character past, future, present and enemies before deciding on a main LI in s3????? 😭

And despite how many spicy scenes there were, they were all pretty damn good for no reason

Marshall's was unfairly hot with a bit of angst at the end ffs might replay just for him, Murphy's def a certified freak, Jason's a menace, Adrian's had me feeling emo, and Theo's got me gasping and reeling STILL from the whole "five-two thrusts" and making her COUNT the slow ones....

Chasing You 1 & 2

Alexander's freaky ass w/ his bondage teaching, attic scene, boat scene, and the greenhouse scene in CY2!!

His god complex makes me wanna d-word but we move

Sam's were spicy in CY1 but I really don't remember them all that much idk he kinda annoyed me but I like him much better in CY2 😋

Ezra's choking is wack 💀 can't wait to punt his ass sorry not sorry

Heaven's Secret 1 & 2

Tbh Lucifer's spicy scenes were kinda random and wack 😭 HS2 def sold me tho w/ his stupid angst self

The whole fingering outside his jail cell got me weak tho

Mimi tasting like raspberry!!! I knew that first Christopher!! F U!

FALLING DURING ANDY'S SCENE BUT STILL GOING GOD BLESS U FREAKS

Dino's flying scene too ok pop off or fly off king

Malbonte's scenes 💯 BITING AH

His post wedding scene convinced me I picked the right man it had me kicking and screaming when I saw the options 😭

I refuse to romance and satisfy Astaroth's perversions but he is a freak and their reactions in the memory isles got me dead

The Flower From Tiamat's Flower

Tbh still not sure if mc took the Dragon dong mad respect if she did 😭

Song of the Crimson Nile

THE SEXUAL TENSION GO BRRRRR

I JUST KNOW IN MY TIDDIES THAT SET'S GONNA MAKE A REFERENCE TO RIDING AND NOT HORSE RIDING AND IF HE DOESN'T I'LL CRY BUT I'LL PROLLY WIFE LIVIUS UP FIRST OH WHALE

Also Set's fuckin reference to a peach (if u pick that perfume) for no reason what a heathen

Amen is such a thirsty mfer my god I only took his scenes to laugh at his thirsty ass 😭 I *need* to know how this ends rn

Legend of the Willow

KAZU

YEAH HIS FIRST SCENE DAMN WOW I CRY LIKE SIR ALSO THE YEARNING?

Also also him tying up his hair before going down on Mei OKAY

Soulless:

Threxio u dumb tease 😭

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

new WIP teaser

collection teaser + a few snippets below the cut

and a special thanks to @swiftispunk for indulging my back to back ramblings over this WIP and being my hypewoman for whatever smuttiest smut I can create & to @morallyinept for being super encouraging and helpful to anyone looking to write Ezra (esp for the first time)

🅣 🅔 🅐 🅢 🅔 🅡

Many songbirds put all their eggs in one basket in that they build only one nest each year. But catbirds are not like most other songbirds. They will attempt two or more nests in a season.

🅢 🅝 🅘 🅟 🅟 🅔 🅣 🅢

He brushed it off initially – the lingering glances, the unnecessary brushes of your bodies, the rapt attention to his words – but when it persisted, even when Ezra was present and aware, Joel knew it wasn’t just hopeful wishing. Whatever spark he felt between you, you felt it, too. It’s what made tonight’s invitation all the more charged. He wasn’t sure what tonight held in the stars, but for once he didn’t feel so damn anxious over the unknown. As much as he hated to admit it, there was a certainty the two of you carried – about yourselves and everything else – that Joel had never quite settled into enough himself to call it second nature.

His eyes keep wandering the dips and curves of your silky green dress. The color and fabric matches the cuffs and pocket square of Ezra’s evening wear suit. A shimmer of light reflecting through your dangling gemstones draws his eye back up, only to find you softly smiling as though you’d been waiting for him to finish absorbing you. A flash of heat tingles his cheekbones. He clears his throat. “Woulda worn somethin’ nicer if I’d–” “You look very handsome,” you interrupt. Joel’s cheeks darken at your simple compliment. You grip his arm a little tighter and gently knock into the side of him. A playful thing.  You’re relieved you don’t have to hold back as much now that you’re finally at the point where you’ll make the deal you’ve been planning with Ezra for months. “Much prefer you to come as you are,” Ezra adds. Joel thinks he catches a hint of a mischievous grin.

“Your mouth is writin’ checks your throat can’t fuckin’ cash,” he taunts as Ezra chokes. He heaves his entire length into Ezra’s mouth even as he tries to pull back for reprieve. Joel grips the back of his head, caging Ezra’s spasming throat around his cock until every drop is milked out. You rub encouraging passes on Ezra’s thigh with one hand and watch with a watered mouth as drips of his precome dribble onto the floor. You can see him struggling to not wretch at the force of Joel in his esophagus. If it was anything like how Joel had taken your cunt, you feel sure you would’ve already relented the contents of your stomach involuntarily.

catch ya later, ♥Puddles♥

[theoddcatlady]

I was hired to transport an exotic pet to its buyer

“Come on, man, it’s an easy three grand. We just gotta drive through the night.”

I stared at Tucker, my best and stupidest friend. “And it’s not drugs? We aren’t transporting coke or something?” I asked.

“No, dude, it’s not illegal,” He rolled his eyes, “and it’s not drugs or people. I asked.”

I chewed on my inner lip as I considered the drawbacks to joining Tucker on another of his poor life decisions. “What is it then?” I asked.

Tucker shrugged. “All the guy said was come by tonight with a friend.”

God, this was a mistake. I even knew at the time it was a mistake. But I was out of work, like a lot of other people right now. I just needed a little money to hold me over until I could get another job.

So two weeks ago, I went with Tucker to meet with a Mr. Ezra Mack.   

Ezra is a portly, short dude with an oversized mustached and droopy eyes. We met with him at a vacant lot just outside of town where the summer fair usually set up, of course, that wasn’t really a thing this year so it was just an empty field with a few pieces of garbage fluttering about. After giving me a once over, Ezra just nodded and said, “You’ll do. Come on, boys.”

We followed Ezra to the other side of the lot, where a U-Haul truck quietly idled away. “Get this to the customer by mornin’, I’ll have three thousand for the each of you, and probably a few more jobs waiting.”

I glanced at Tucker, who was clearly just seeing dollar signs, but I was a little more skeptical. “What’s in it?” I asked.

Ezra chuckled before gesturing forward. “Take a peek son, just keep your distance,” He said.  

Somewhat relieved that he didn’t seem all that concerned by me seeing what was inside, I went up to the truck and opened up the back.  

All I could make out in the darkness was a cage. Then I saw a pair of eyes looking back and I heard a beastly snarl.

I yelped and fell back on my ass. Ezra laughed it up some more and he shut the door before I could get a better look. “Exotic pets, people pay an arm and a leg for somethin’ that can gobble them and their kids up,” He said.

“Is it a tiger?” Now Tucker looked disappointed he didn’t get a better look.

“Sure, if that makes you feel better.” Ezra helped me back to my feet and patted my shoulder. “Clock’s tickin’, so get a move on. I suggest you don’t think too hard about it and don’t take too many stops until you reach the customer. And stay out of the fuckin’ back. He’s caged for now, but I don’t want either of you pissin’ him off, I’m not payin’ for your hospital bill.”  

I nodded. I didn’t need to be told twice. You know, I was actually relieved it was ‘just’ a tiger, considering the other less favorable options like drug or human trafficking.

After Tucker and I played a round of rock paper scissors, it turned out I was going to be driving for the first leg. We only stopped for a bit to get a six pack of Pepsi and a few bags of Lay Chips before we were on the road.

“So how big was it?” Tucker asked after we really got going.

“I couldn’t see, probably huge. Hope it’s not a man eater,” I joked.  

Tucker elbowed me before he began tossing potato chips in his mouth. “Tigers were always my favorite as a kid,” He said between crunches. “But I don’t think they make good pets.”

“It’s legal in this state… I think. It’s like Tiger King.” 

“Have you even fucking seen that show yet?”

“My ex changed the Netflix pass before I could.”  

Tucker began to loudly cackle before an exceptionally loud snarl jerked us both back into reality- even if it was in a cage, there was a very dangerous animal in the back of our truck, only the bars of its cage and the thin siding of the truck keeping it from ripping our heads off if it so pleased. Tucker laughed nervously before stuffing more chips in his mouth.

I don’t really mind driving, not even at night. It’s kinda relaxing, usually the roads are pretty empty and I can just daydream away. Of course, usually I don’t have to hear quiet growling coming behind me every few minutes. It wasn’t constant, just every now and then I’d start to relax and then I’d hear the growling. Definitely kept me on alert.

Honestly, if we hadn’t gotten pulled over, we would’ve made it to the customer with no problems and I never would’ve thought twice about it.

But when I saw those red and blue lights in my side view mirror, my stomach practically dropped into my feet. Tucker had been pretty chipper until that point as well, I swear his dark face went a few shades paler as I pulled over. “What do we do?” He asked.

“Bullshit him until he leaves us the fuck alone,” I hissed back.  

The cop strode up to the truck a minute or so later, flashing his light in. I could tell off the bat this was not going to be pleasant. I won’t pretend that I know every cop in the world, but every cop I’ve met has been an insufferable jackass. Especially when they think I’m up to something, which other than that night, I really haven’t ever been.  

“License and registration, please,” He said.  

I just reminded myself he had a gun before I got my license. “Not my truck, officer, I’m doing a favor for a friend,” I said.  

“What kind of favor?” He eyed the truck.

“Moving things. We’ve been driving for like five hours already,” I said.  

The cop ‘humphed’ before glancing at my license. I prayed for it to be over.

But of course, the tiger chose that moment to start kicking up a ruckus.  

I cringed as I heard the growling and snarling kick up full force, and I knew I heard Tucker face palm.

The cop scowled before handing me back the license. “Stay there,” He ordered before he strode to the back of the truck. I didn’t bother with the ‘But you need a warrant’ bit, I knew I was screwed. My lack of knowledge about exotic pets was now coming to bite me in the ass. It probably was illegal to keep tigers in my state and I just didn’t know.  

Cop threw open the back door. There was a beat of silence. Then a ‘What the-’. Then a crash and a scream of terror.

Didn’t matter if the guy was a jerk, I immediately leaped out of the truck to go rescue him, Tucker hot on my heels. I skidded to a stop in the back of the truck, flicked on my phone’s light, and pointed it into the truck, seeing that the bars had been ripped apart like cardboard before I focused on the ‘pet’.

… Yeah, no, that definitely wasn’t a tiger.  

The humanoid creature back there was nearly big enough to reach the ceiling, his antlers made it the rest of the way. He had the cop crushed between his clawed hands, the man’s face white with shock before the creature opened its mouth and smashed down on his skull.  

Blood and gore sprayed out from what remained of the cop’s head and Tucker did the smart thing by slamming the door shut.  

We both bolted for the front of the truck, before I made it I ended up spewing out my stomach contents all over the ground. With trembling legs I climbed back into the truck, where Tucker was in the middle of a panic attack.

“What… the fuck… was that?” Tucker managed to get out as he hyperventilated.  

I shook my head, wiping a bit of puke off my lips. I now missed the growling, now replaced by crunching and a wet tearing. I glanced at the GPS, we had an hour to go.

Mechanically, I put the truck in gear and began driving off, ignoring Tucker asking what the fuck we were doing. In truth, I’m not sure what I was thinking. All I could think was ‘get this fucker to our destination and get the hell out of here’.  

The chewing became white noise, my focus mostly on the road in front of us. Our destination was thankfully tucked way back in the woods, no more interstate for us, but what was worse was when the horrifying mastication of the body finally drew to a close.

The chewing was replaced by a sound that made the hair on my neck stand on end.

Whispering. From the back of the truck I swear to god I heard whispering.  

I craned my ears in an attempt to make out any distinct words, but it was too muffled for me to make out any clear words. Tucker began reciting the Lord’s Prayer, whimpering in between each breath. I just gripped that steering wheel even tighter and watched the minutes tick down slowly on the GPS.

The house we pulled up to was pretty nice, it wasn’t like a woodland mansion or anything but I certainly couldn’t afford it. Tucker bailed from the truck before I even came to a full stop, and I wasn’t far behind him.  

I sped walk to the front door and didn’t even knock before the customer opened up.  

He looked so normal, man. Like the average dude you’d pass on the sidewalk and promptly forget in two seconds. Not like a person who was buying monsters. But he glanced back at the truck and his eyes just lit up. “Is he here?” He asked.

“Yeah,” I wiped the sweat off my forehead, “The cage is broken though. And it ate someone.”  

The man sighed and somehow had the nerve to look relieved. “Well, if he’d fed, that’ll actually make things easier. His hunger will be sated for the moment. Come on in, put your feet up for a bit. We can handle it from here,” He said.  

Tucker and I waited in the man’s kitchen, sipping flat Pepsi and doing our best not to look out the window where the man and a few other people were getting that thing out of the back of the truck. The man came in about half an hour later, told us they sprayed out the inside of the truck, handed us a few wadded up hundred dollar bills for a tip (“since you arrived almost an hour before the estimated time”, he said), and we went home.  

It was quiet in the cab on the way back. Unnervingly quiet. Tucker wasn’t cracking jokes, we kept the radio off, and we did our best not to stare at the abandoned cop car by the side of the road as we passed on by.

No one’s ever questioned us about the missing cop, even when we told Ezra what happened he seemed unbothered. He was more pissed about the cage being broken, saying his boss was going to be ticked to learn that this new cage didn’t hold up to snuff. We got paid, I went home, and I did my best to wipe the night’s events from my mind.

I hoped it would never come back to bite me either. But of course, I was wrong.

Yesterday I went grocery shopping and came home to Tucker twiddling his thumbs and a woman wearing a flannel shirt with the sleeves pushed up, revealing a nasty scar on her forearm that looked like a bite mark.

“You’re Killion?” She asked. Still too flabbergasted about there being a stranger in my living room, I just nodded. “Good. Tucker here told me how well you handled yourself with the last delivery.”  

She placed a check on my coffee table.

“I’m Beth, Ezra’s boss. I’m here offering you full time work. I promise, they won’t all be nearly as rough as that first one.”

… Like I said, I was out of a job.

[konekorambles]

Trick or treat!: Karen baaaaaarely fuckin survives Jedi Night instead

Okay I admit that autocorrect gave me pause when I read this half-awake this morning. Happy Halloween 🧡🧡🧡

~~~~~~~~~~

Kanan Jarrus knew he was going to die. Maybe the Force had seen fit to give him a gentle premonition. Maybe the giant wolf that had been lurking in the edges of his awareness was some kind of manifestation of his own mortality.

Or maybe he’s just been on enough of these damn fool rescue missions to recognize that his odds of coming out of this one alive are roughly slim to none.

He has no regrets. This world, this galaxy, needs Hera—and Ezra, and Sabine, and Chopper and Zeb and the entire rebellion—more than it needs Kanan Jarrus. Or Caleb Dume.

So it’s quite the surprise when he channels the energy he’d been using to hold back the flames into a shove that sent the little shuttle lurching sideways to safety—and his own feet leave the metal surface at the same time. It should have been the explosion, disintegrating the fuel tank under him and him along with it, but instead a grip like a desperate grasping hand closes tight around his body. His head jerks painfully back with the force of it—he could’ve sworn he’d taught his padawan restraint somewhere along the way—then forward hard enough to clack his teeth together as the explosion blasts past him. Pain lances through his skull, and blackness swallows him.

***

Kanan had awoken in more than a few med bays in his time. He swims up into consciousness slowly and reluctantly. There’s no moment that he questions if he’s alive; if your back is allowed to hurt this much in the afterlife then he is going to file a strongly worded complaint with the universe at large. Combine the pain, the fuzzy-headed feeling of drugs, and the sweet slimy smell of bacta, and you get med bay.

And there’s someone sitting next to him—he’s on his front, he vaguely registers, but his back still seems to be on fire—with slender fingers wrapped around his left hand. Come to think of it, that might be the only part of him that doesn’t hurt.

“What. Happened?” He mumbles around his fuzzy dry tongue, and those fingers tighten suddenly.

“You’re awake.” Hera’s voice is tight with relief. “You have some burns.”

“Some?” He’s tempted to ask how much of his skin is even left, since it doesn’t feel like it could be much.

“They’re pretty bad,” Ezra’s voice chimes in from behind Hera. “Looks like you’ll be sitting this one out, Kanan.”

“Good, I need a rest,” Kanan mumbles. He’s already exhausted, real sleep stealing over him even with the amount of pain that he’s in. He registers Ezra’s hand—lightsaber calluses on his fingers—joining Hera’s.

“I’m sorry, master. I wasn’t fast enough. But I can handle this one on my own.”

Kanan wants to agree. Wants to say how proud he is of his padawan. And also scold him for doing something so reckless. But his mouth can’t form the sounds. So he lets himself drift, flows in the Force like water.

Who knows, by the time he wakes up again his damn stubborn padawan will probably have liberated Lothal through force of will alone.

[bufffnaked]

Volume way up

Tuesday I was workin' late /

Dancer! From Corey

it's a lonely weekend hum accompaniment

B y e David

yeah over mmmmm

No FOMO dance penis all over From Corey!

Sure doesn't mind!

it's alright to be alone sometimes /

Bye Matthew McConahay - Engineer Bitch From Corey the Stud

👱‍♂️🤙😃

When out of the blue /

See yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa hurrises

Never gonna git out Seth and Walker klan boyz to prison time

Bye David Flesha Pinkston and Son in law grandson bam jail time

New Jersey go Bye Bye

🙂Gave me butterflies smilegasm smile orgasmic combo platter!

Bye Dave THE BITCH Love see ya' fuck face

Zach didn't last long or brain the duesh past due cram bra

Jason Jenn Brain Colarada so fuckin' stupid like the Douggar and Sylvo Daryl and crew served in front of

Elona and Janine ~ Corey takes care of his women 'cuz he said so! Welcome to party life and beach livin'!!!!!!!!!:)

Bye Camden's Brock shit face and daddio Fordski No sun outdoor time

Frank the shit slicker amputee and Eric

Eric can't stop throwin' up to save her bye carrie and crew

Cam and Coal too stupid to move

Yep

Dee said yes to never a feel of fun Bye King PASSEEEEE so fuckin' fat

Kyle and Andrew so fugly the mirror can't take it

Asta la vesta Doug and Danyelle never men

Doug time is not ever smiled at ya not smellin' ya' bitch

Joisey Doug

Jeff ain't no thing in prison WWWWWWWWWWWWWIIIIIINK

Lange midgets and midgets enjoy the soap in prison ain't no thang in der

Arthur mcsmalls and dalton eagles band minnies love that prison bar

Caleb never knew ya'

Brad nothin' has changed I'm Days Of Thunder don't forget NA'

Robert Red face got whhhhhhhhhhhiped I tell ya'

See ya' Marlin bitch brand don't know

JOHN VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVOOOOOOOOOOOIT bitch sauce enjoy finally smellin' the LINDEBALD MINNIS

Abby Dulis made it clean'

:)

Sean Baldy maybe you should look more attractive and show some respect somewherez prison ain't easy loves tit

Todd you can finally paint THE SCENE

Joel didn't ever love

Tate ain't it

Nate from CON Fuck ya'

Ben the mini from BALDMORE bitch ain't easy in the big time

Ezra better men all over

Ezra senyours smell it

Ian MILNAY Anna and kate cali made it smells ya' like tob

Chris the duesh kiss joisey did ya' the deepest i heard LOVES TIT love is a wild thing / I wrote it!:)

Simeon felony matta Smell Nick finally?

Bryson mcsquare so acme face DRock and Tsmalls also fugly

Brad and the beer man Phil bitch is your name

Bobby the pest

Mark the fuck up

Bob the miller

Josh Miller got jizzed on all his life loves tit

Josh OCanar Smells like teen prison time Loves tit

Caleb the square didn't make it a second

Daryl the darebee dare to live

Drew Lawerence fuck up

Ben the canaden So fuckin' fucked like fasha

Scott Wint Canada wasn't better

Bob eagles live is full

Schlag crew prison stripes you thing

Paul the dweeb enjoy the LIFT

Dan and THE yunger bro enjoy music shop

David Wright didn't git to the yungins'

Scott mcsquare space

Listen' to Kasey Musgraves entire Golden Hour cd

Blake see ya'

Blake min flake mo'

Josh Bin Clip Ma Colt Zatch enjoy the prison

Kevin costnar and chilin' enjoy prison life

Kevin mcduesher shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh from Corey and Laurie!:) We fuckin' made it errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrday!:)

Greg MonSTAR never Dyroned huh?

Hamlin tree smell ya' later

Dalton minnisquirts Enjoy MCDAVE sometime possibly David Led

Kevin Led don't be scccccccured okay?

Kevin led dad whatever your fuckin' name is... nobody cared about you

Kristine made it cali in style!:)

Katie Barrass loves naked life with me!:)

Clint Dempsey rotted in prison before Loves tit!

Johnson Johnson

Ralph you duesh

MCDANNY BOY enjoy gettin' to know the REAL Luke

I like where this is goin' /

Sam worthington From Corey!:)

Dr Daddy John the ssssssssqqqqqqqqqqqqqq rest of the fuck ups in Kentuky

David Mutt

Ryan the duesh Queen I see ya' love prison life

Dale Lee you'll get death event

Shawnny Boy enjoy the backside of life

Bill the queer

Bob the vanner

Norfuck

Ty the smeer

Seth the gun

Robbie Mann never a man

Robbie from the RIVA' smells

Brad dugotti enjoy the LYFE

Richard time ya'

Joe the shmo' mo' shmo' like doris in there Loves tit

Joseph Taylor Epperson I'm listen' to the Applebee's music commercial smells in prison

Hunter the hunted

Nick senior year got ya'

Nick the smalls

Can't dance huh?

Laura fuckin' made Cali famous with me young we'll do the thong thang aggan!:)kisses

Jimathey Crammed

Adam bombed

Steve McQueen huh

Jabob into the bob

Colty Bear

Enjoy the prison term of engagement

David the VA

Jake the snake and Luke the bitch

Randal the cunt

Rest of the hewers enjoy the prison lyfe

Rick the ranged aroused?

Caleb the GAMA' enjoy the lyfe

TUNA from the seeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Enjoy Jordan

BUM BUM BUM HUM Corey the deepest in history

keep me in your glow / 'cuz im havin' such a fun time with you /

I wrote life! From Corey!:)

Roger the DADGA' not rly a grandparent got ridden RID OF

ARTHUR ERIC FACE sons didn't make it

Space in there

Corey makes the world look beautiful /

looks like paradise /

You set my world on fire /

I know I know I know everything is gonna' be alright /

You're my golden hour /

You set my world on fire /

Golden Hour /

mmmmmmm mmmmmmm mmmmmmm mmm mmmm mmm m /

Chris the fuck

Pam made my life famous!:) Thank you sweetie!:) From Love

Chris Sales, enjoy my property?

Frank used to be fun

Josiah sucks to suck

Ty Smalls Lyfe only life lived dogs ll be dogs

Dustin just in queer

Dan the G

Steve McQueen dbl

You're stuck out in the same ole' storm again /

Always a bin rainbow hangin' over your head x3

Pipes so rude you couldn't choke a thang

Beth's DUDE Fuck off

Davey Jones Locker

Benhoe the burr enjoy prison in Australia Australia Australia

Danny Boy teh Aussie enjoy

James Dill food lyfe rite?

Dave the TOOOOOUSH Shut tttttthheeee fuck up

Only live once /

Make lots of noise /

Kiss lots of boys kiss lots of girls if that is somethin' you're into /

Follow your arrow wherever it points /

James the just

Drew daddy

Commerical break food

Concerts

Music

Dancin'

Cruises

Josiey Joe never inn

Dave the fucker From Corey and England!:)

Tim Anderson willie

Tim badge tim lange tim from 'troit enjoy prison

Tim the small city prison

Jacob Jared Jason daddio enjoy prison from Corey and your mom!:)kisses to the moon and back!:)

David the account keep those numbers Daryl looks good on ya' witch one? Phil the filth CharLAY ian got there Ivanhoe see yas now

[erodasfishtacos]

I fucking love mlb!harry and ceo!harry

Ur so talented

Erm i had an idea (pls feel free to ignore, i know u hv a busy schedule and life outside of tumblr) but what if mlb!harry played badly in a game (or less than how he expected he wld perform) and y/n makes him feel better

Or

Ceo!harry loses an important deal and y/n makes him feel better

CRAMP

i write for FREE - so if you would like to support my work, you can donate here. ($15+ is guaranteed blurb written for you).

if you liked - pleasure support me by reblogging, recommending, liking, commenting, and come talk to me about the fic!

warnings: smut; 18 +

YN knew it wasn’t going to be a fun time when Harry came home that night.

All four babies were fast asleep in their respective rooms and she was lounging on the couch, some cooking show on after she watched her husband play a rough game on ESPN.

He got hit with a fastball to his calf during the second inning and after that, his performance went downhill and he couldn’t get back on track.

He threw three homeruns and only made a few mediocre hits, trying to ignore the shooting pain in his lower leg.

In a typical Harry move, he refused to do the end of game handshakes with the opposing team and stormed off the field.

An interviewer chasing after him to ask him a question and Harry give her a dirty look before muttering, “Get away from me. I’m not answerin’ any questions,” before he disappears down the stairs.

YN knew just the thing that will cheer him up.

-

Harry trecks into the house with heavy feet and tense shoulders, his eyes are tired and frustrated as he drops his duffle on the ground carelessly.

“Hi,” YN murmurs when he steps into the living room, she was all curled up in a fluffy blanket with a surprise underneath.

“Hi,” He says back blandly, the frown unmoving from his face - almost like a pouty little kid.

“Can you come rub m’back?” She asks, feeling herself dampen a little bit with the excitement of what’s to come.

Harry scoffs, obviously in a sour mood, “I just finished a game, walked in the door, and tha’s the first thing I get is a demand?”

“Okay? And I just dealt with all four of your babies all day today. Ezra refused to be put down for more than five minutes straight,” She tries to bite down the smile, she shouldn’t find it funny when her husband’s bent out of shape.

That makes him melt a bit though, voice soften minutely, “Were the babies good today?”

“I’ll tell you about it after you rub my back.”

Harry grumbles, kicking off his trainers with a irritated edge, and heavy-footed as he makes his way to the couch.

“Take off the blanket and move on y’belly then,” He mutters, eyes boring into hers without reflecting the amusement that she has - if he was in a better mood he would have helped her along.

When she slips off the blanket and quickly moves on her stomach, burying her face in her arms when she hears him sucks in a breath.

“Wha’ are y’naked?” Harry demands, obviously trying to stay irritated because he deserved it for having such a shitty game.

YN makes sure her voice sounds airy and coy, “Just got hot is all.”

“S’fuckin’ freezin’ in here,” He rebukes but sits on the side of the couch with only a little room on the edge - his large hand coming to massage at her back muscles.

“Mmm,” She agrees noncommittally, feeling Harry’s hand wander curiously, further down her back to the lower curve before her bum.

“Y’trying to cheer m’up with sex,” Harry accuses, bent out of shape because he just wants to sulk in his poor performance but also he has the most beautiful woman in the world in front of him - bare and wet for him.

“I didn’t offer sex,” YN smirks, her husband falls into her to tricks every fucking time, no matter how much of bad mood he’s in.

Harry’s voice gets lower, more dangerous and gravely, “No? Just flashin’ y’ass at me for fun now? Decided for absolutely no reason to be waiting for m’to come home naked?”

“No reason at all,” She agrees, excitement building when his gentle massage turns rougher, hands kneading a little deeper into her muscles.

He shakes his head, eyes glued onto her backside where her cheeks are round and hiding what he really wants to see, “So if I dip m’fingers down between y’pretty thighs, your cunt won’t be soaking f’me?”

Harry’s skin prickles when his wife lets out a feathery, delicate moan at his words, he’s desperately trying to hold onto all of his negative feelings but he’s struggling because of the beauty that’s squirmy underneath him.

“Dry as the Sahara.”

It makes Harry finally break a little, letting out a belly laugh, and smacking her bum hard enough to make her squeak in delight.

His fingers travel down between her puffy folds, slipping into the heavenly heat of her where she is soaking his fingers.

In a filthy move, he pulls them back up and rubs them on his wife’s lips, “If y’not wet than what’s on y’lips, darlin’?”

Harry’s cock twitches when she lets out a quiet whine, pink tongue tracing her bottom lip before she laps at her husband’s thick fingers.

“Fuck,” He grunts, pressing down on her tongue,“Y’gonna let m’hit it from behind?”

When she can speak, she shakes her head, “No, want it on m’back.”

“Spoiled thing,” He murmurs, giving her one more smack before helping her flip back over, “Supposed t’be all about me, not you.”

YN’s eyes are sparkling, hand coming to tug lightly at his locks and pull him down into a kiss, her other hand wriggling his shorts down.

“All I had to do was take m’clothes off, didn’t even have to ask for it,” She giggles sweetly, teasingly, “Doesn’t matter what mood you’re in, always want to give it to me.”

“Best I’ve ever had, mama,” Harry replies against her lips, mumbled a bit as she grips him and leads him right to where she needs him most.

“Only one you ever had, only one you ever will have,” YN remarks confidently before throwing her head back when he bottoms out.

“Y’so fuckin’ hot when you’re possessive. You already know y’own me, darling. I bought you this big ole’ house, got four of m’babies sleepin’ upstairs, and got y’under me every night. I’m fucking yours. I have been since we met.”

“Harder, H,” She demands, nails digging into his strong shoulders as he fucks into her at a steady pace.

“Be quiet, let m’do it how I want,” He chides, keeping a slow but hard rhythm as he ducks down the suck at the hard peaks of her breasts before grazing them with his teeth.

“Do it how I want,” YN moans with an arrogant tone, it just drops with how confident she is that her husband is whipped for her. (He is).

But he’s already in a less than great mood so it has him flipping her, putting her onto all four as he wants, and slamming back in.

“We’re gonna do it ‘ow I want it,” He grunts in her ear, his hand gripping her cheek roughly enough to dimple and his other wrapping in her messy hair, “Y’absolutely soakin’ me, pet.”

“Oooh, fuck!” YN hisses but it doesn’t sound like a normal moan from her - Harry knows every sound his wife is able to make.

“Mama? Y’alright?” Harry checks, slowing down but not completely losing momentum as he loosens his grip on her hair.

“Cramp, I’m cramping. Want it on m’back,” YN whines, trying to shake out her leg and Harry obliges, helping her back down to their original position.

Again, Harry isn’t stupid.

As soon as she is back where she’s moaning lowly and with an airy hitch as she goes to pinch at one of her nipples.

“Y’such a spoiled brat,” Harry shakes his head in disbelief, “Y’didnt have a leg cramp, y’just wanted to be a pillow princess.”

“Lies,” YN giggles, eyes bright and happy as she peers up at her husband who is looking down a her like she hung the fucking moon and stars.

No one would ever be able to convince him that she didn’t.

“M’the one who had the shit day. I’ve just spoiled you so fuckin’ rotten tha’ y’just a desperate slut,” He laughs meanly but it sends a full body zip of electricity through his wife and he knows it.

“Harry,” She chokes out, gripping his biceps hard.

“Hands to yourself,” He snaps, taking her hands and pinning them above her head with just one of his hands.

The other comes down and lands a smack right on her puffy folds, once..twice…three times before YN is coming on him.

“Easy f’me,” Harry hums with satisfaction, leaning down to kiss her moans quiet as he fucks in hard a handful on times before he’s filling her up, “There y’go, hm? Marking y’up as mine, all full of me.”

“Yeah, baby,” YN agrees dazed, dated as he comes to a halt as he softens and pulls out - wiping her down with his shirt as she whines, “Sensitive.”

“M’sorry, mama,” Her husband apologizes, trying to be careful around her nerves.

After, they lay on the couch - talking about their day until Briar’s monitor lights up from the side table with high pitched cries.

“Mama, mama, daddy,” The thirteen month old sobs as she sits up in her crib - unable to find her binky in the dark.

“I’ll go get the bub,” Harry offers, sitting up and tugging his briefs and shorts back on.

“Okay, she missed you a lot today. I’m going to go shower.”

-

When Harry steps into the room, Briar is looking expectantly at the door and her eyes widen when she spots her father.

“Daddy, dadada,” She babbles happily, standing up to clutch the railing of her crib with anticipation.

“Oh, there’s m’lil mama. Hi darling,” Harry coos softly, gathering her up into his arms and taking a step over to the rocking chair.

He pops her pacifier back between her lips and she looks up at him with heavy-lids, it doesn’t take long before her blinks get longer until her eyes shut close.

Harry doesn’t know what he did to deserve such an amazing life but he was sure fucking grateful.

[missmeinyourbones]

JUST ONE PIECE (DABI X READER) (WC: 1350+)

NOTE: this is literally just dabi x reader eating fruit. idk why it’s so long. yuna mentioned the vague concept to me one (1) time and i couldn’t stop myself from running w it ^v^

“i am citrus—

peel back my skin

open me and expose the soft wet inside”

- peel my orange every morning, ezra furman

When you’d returned home from work, you weren't empty-handed. 

Dabi had noticed your playful smirk and box in hand as you wordlessly beckoned him to join you at the small kitchen table for two. A bit skeptical but intrigued nonetheless, he slowly rises from his place sprawled across your couch and makes his way over to the kitchen stools.  

As you’re humming to yourself and grabbing two plates from the cupboard, he takes the opportunity to peek inside the white box. However, his eyebrows furrow in confusion at what sits inside. 

It’s a fruit platter—one of those fancy ones with expensive varieties where they cut the fruit into little shapes like stars and crescents. They're stacked in a decorative manner, and Dabi thinks it’s a bit stupid and pretentious to arrange fruit like this when it’s going to end up digesting in someone’s stomach all the same.

You knew Dabi was picky—he’s always been particular about his likes and dislikes, no matter how important the topic. Fruit was no different. 

Truthfully, you picked up the tray on your way home as a nice little treat for the two of you. However, the more you thought about it, the more you realized how little you actually knew of Dabi’s taste preferences. You were determined to learn more about his palate—applied to all things—and if a simple fruit platter helped you get just a bit closer to understanding that, then so be it. You were determined to help him find a fruit he enjoyed. 

After setting some plates down and making yourself comfortable at the table, you dodge Dabi’s suspicious glares as you poke and place a few different pieces of fruit onto your plate with a fork, before doing the same thing to his. You eagerly watch him push colorful berries around with his pointer finger, picking up a slender piece of honeydew and indulging in the world’s tiniest bite, before tossing it back onto the platter. 

“What about some pineapple?” you ask as you take a bite of the sticky piece glistening in your hand. It tastes bright and loud, like a bunch of little flavor soldiers are battling over the territory of your tongue. Dabi grimaces as he watches you take another bite, but his face visibly softens when you lick the juice dripping from your fingers. 

“Fuckin’ stings the roof of my mouth,” he grumbles.

“Aw,” you coo with teasing sympathy, shooting Dabi a pout. “want me to beat it up for you?”

He lightly snarls, but consciously chooses to remain silent as he continues to play with the colorful food on his plate. 

You try again, holding up a green grape in one hand and a purple in the other, dangling them in front of his face like tempting a dog with a treat—curious to see which one he’ll choose to suit his fancy. Your smile fades when his deadpan expression refuses to change. He scoffs before returning to picking at the half bitten apple slice on his plate.  

“C’mon, what’s wrong with grapes?” you whine like a child. 

“The skin is weird. Don’t like the crunch to it,” he states matter-of-factly. 

“Yeah, but then it’s soft in the middle,” you mumble as you bite the green one in half and rotate it in your hand, almost like you were proving to him that you weren't lying about the interior of the tiny fruit. 

“Exactly,” his nose scrunches in distaste again, “weird combination.”

Kinda like us, you want to say, but hold your tongue. If you’ve learned one thing about being with Dabi, it was not to push—even in silly scenarios like this. 

Dabi was like caring for a tedious flower. He needed just enough water to sustain himself, but not enough to drown in. Just enough sunlight to flourish, but too much and he’d overheat. He often shamefully walked the skewed tightrope of too much and not enough. It was a difficult line to balance, but you always tried.

A bit discouraged at his lack of enthusiasm, you find yourself now shuffling untouched pieces around your own plate, “You keep saying things you don’t like, I wanna hear something you do.”

Dabi sees your slight pout and it stings a little. All he’s ever been taught to do was to pick out the bad. Focus in on it, obsess over it, make it better or destroy it trying. It’s all he’s ever known, so he’s not sure why you’re so surprised when it still applies to his taste in fruit.

There’s a few moments of silence. Dabi continues to pick and prod at a few pieces of melon here and there, while you eventually stop sulking and go back to relishing in the sweetness of the fresh fruit. When he speaks up again, it surprises you.

“I like mango.”

You look up from your plate to find him chewing on a tiny cubed piece of the light orange fruit—and it takes everything in you to not let an accomplished smile spread across your face. You bite your lip to hold it back (which Dabi sees and pretends to ignore) as you encourage him a bit. 

“What do you like about it?” you ask innocently, as if the two of you aren't both very aware of what it is that you're trying to do. 

You're trying to get him to be positive—to indulge in something for the sole purpose of pleasure. To admit that he can like something without disdain or guilt. He knows. He sees right through your antics, yet he still finds himself humoring you. 

He finishes the piece in his hand and immediately picks up another one.

“It’s not like, painfully sour or sickeningly sweet,” he articulates. 

He’s never been good with words or describing things. He’s used to sitting in silence with his passion and pain, he doesn't know what it means to articulate. He looks up to see if you’re still following his bland yet honest attempt. 

You are—eyes bright and head nodding along at his incoherent words—so he continues. 

“It’s normal. It tastes—” he pauses, almost as if he’s searching for the right descriptor. 

You let him take a moment. You’d let him take as long as he needed to if it meant him actually liking something, communicating his feelings to you, even over something as silly as a piece of mango.

“Smooth,” he finally decides on, “it tastes smooth.” 

You can’t help but laugh a little at the odd yet accurate description of the fruit. You pick up a piece for yourself and plop it into your mouth, letting its sweetness dance along your tastebuds. You find yourself laughing again, but this time, it’s because you agree with him. 

“It does taste smooth,” you giggle with affirmation and Dabi struggles to hide his own smirk at your enthusiasm. 

You reach across the table and put a hand on his cheek, beckoning him closer to you. His face remains stoic but he complies without resistance, meeting you halfway as he leans in to kiss you. He can taste the leftover hint of mango nectar on your lips and he fights back a smile (which you feel due to the slight upward quirk of his lips, but you decide to let him have it in peace). You pull away and rub your lips together as if you just applied chapstick, before popping another piece of mango into your mouth. 

“How do I taste? Smooth?” you tease. 

“Yeah,” the sarcasm in his voice isn’t laced with malice in the slightest, but it’s there, “the smoothest.”

The two of you continue to sit and relish in the warmth of the scenario. Dabi eats a few more pieces of mango. You have one as well but eventually move on to pieces of melon and citrus, deciding to let him eat the rest of it, because he likes it. 

It’s a start, you think. A small one, but one nonetheless.

On your way home from work the following day, you physically can’t help yourself from stopping at the fruit vendor and buying a few ripe mangoes. You also can’t help but notice the faint blush creeping across Dabi’s face when he spots them sitting on the counter the next morning. 

[sixhours]

i know you by heart - chapter 2

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Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Prospect, Joel Miller x Ezra, Joel & Ellie, Ezra & Cee, Joel is bad at feelings and relationships, Ellie is a little shit (affectionate), mostly follows canon after season 1, SMUT, gay sex, bisexual!Joel, period-typical homophobia, light angst, romance, age gap (~10ish years), I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

When Joel was 17, he kissed a boy for the first time.

His name was Kenny Farmington, and they were both a little drunk on cheap beer and a nice Texas night and the special high that comes from being not quite a man and not quite a boy, stuck in that in-between time when it felt like anything was possible. Joel had a truck and a part-time job at Regis Construction and his whole life spread out before him like an open road.

It was a nice enough kiss. But when Joel opened his eyes after their lips parted and saw fear rather than lust in his friend’s eyes, he knew it ended there. Everyone knew Kenny’s dad was a raging homophobe who would “whoop his ass” if he thought his son might be “one of them dirty fuckin’ faggots”.

Joel wasn’t convinced his own father wouldn’t have had something to say about it had he known.

And, oh well. Joel liked girls, too. He liked them enough to bring Eileen Folsom home and make out with her in the basement rec room at her parents’ house until his cock was weeping and his balls were blue. He liked them well enough to get to third base with Cindy Sherwood in the back of his truck. He liked girls plenty.

It was the eighties, anyway. AIDS was spreading like wildfire, and small-town Texas was hardly the place to go looking for action if you weren’t straight as a goddamn arrow.

Four years later, Joel liked one particular girl enough to knock her up, and then he didn’t have much time to consider whether he’d want to kiss another boy, because he was going to be a father.

And then there was Sarah. And a divorce. And his parents died. And Tommy went off to war and came back, and there was overtime and working doubles to keep the roof over their heads and the payment on the truck up, and who the fuck had time to think about boys or girls or anyone in between.

And then there was cordyceps. And his daughter, his baby girl, bleeding out in his arms.

And then Joel didn’t spend much time thinking about what he liked at all. He kept going for the ones who needed him without a thought spared for himself.

And then came Ellie.

Ellie, who patched up his heart and turned his life upside down and made him care about something other than brute survival again. Tore down his walls and broke him open and somehow left him whole.

Whole, and…wanting.

Which is why, forty years after Kenny Farmington, he doesn’t feel bad about imagining another man’s face, or hands, or lips on his body when he strokes himself in the shower. He doesn’t feel ashamed when he gets off to the thought of another man’s mouth on his cock. It’s not the first time he’s been attracted to a man, and it won’t be the last.

No, he feels bad because that man is his daughter’s fucking therapist. That man is someone she needs to trust, someone she raves about over dinner, someone who is, in her words, “so fucking cool”.

And his duty, first and foremost, is to Ellie.

So he tries not to imagine Ezra when his libido comes roaring back to life after years of dormancy, boiling his blood and making him feel half his age.

And he fails, miserably.

He comes out of his own bad dreams to hers more often than not. Sometimes she calls for Riley, sometimes for him, and sometimes she just screams.

Tonight it’s the latter, and he’s across the hall and through her door in seconds, a reflex perfected over months.

“Hey, Ellie,” he mumbles, only half conscious. “Ellie, you’re okay.”

“He was–he–I can’t breathe ,” she chokes out, panting in short, wispy breaths.

“Yeah, y’can, in and out,” he says. “Like we practiced. C’mon, you got it. Breathe, baby girl.”

“Can’t,” she gasps, but he feels her back expand and contract under his palm, the movements slowing as each subsequent breath gets longer. He folds her into his arms and rubs her back the way she likes and whispers assurances into her hair as her panicked gasps turn into sobs.

“You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re okay, baby, you’re alright.”

In these moments, she goes from being the smart-mouthed, sassy little shit he loves to a scared, vulnerable little kid. He prefers her bratty. This is too much like those brutal winter days when they came so close to losing each other.

Eventually, she sniffs and scoots over so he can stretch out next to her on top of the covers. He puts his arm out so she can curl into him, one hand gripping his t-shirt at his side. He swears all his sleep shirts are stretched out funny; even after washing, they hold the imprint of her fingers.

They both sleep better this way, though neither of them will admit it. She swears she’s too old to snuggle and he worries what people might think. But after months on the road, after so many nights camped out next to each other in the dirt, the comfort of someone else’s breathing makes for a powerful lullaby.

“Bad one?” he asks, tracing the line of her temple with his thumb.

“They’re all bad ones,” she mutters into his chest. “Wish I wasn’t like this.”

“Like what?”

“All…broken and shit.”

“We’re all pretty fuckin’ broken, kiddo.”

“Yeah, but I’m like, extra broken.”

He swallows hard, wonders how many times he’s dreamed of a vast field bordered by blocked highways, the sound of helicopters overhead, gunfire in the distance. The smell of blood.

“Know it feels like that…but it’ll get better,” he whispers, hugging her tightly, wondering if it counts as a lie. “Jus’ takes time.”

He’s almost dozed off when she speaks again, her voice low and distant.

“I don’t belong here.”

His brow furrows. “What d’you mean?”

She doesn’t answer. He can’t imagine a world in which she doesn’t belong with him, can’t imagine a life where she isn’t exactly where she is right now. Knowing how close they came to that reality, just the thought is enough to set his heart to racing.

Swear to me.

“What do you mean, kiddo?” he prompts.

“Nothing,” she murmurs. “S’nothing, never mind.”

“Look, Ellie–”

“It’s fine, Joel. I’m just…tired,” she mumbles, nuzzling into his chest. “Don’t wanna talk.”

“Alright,” he whispers, cupping the back of her head. “Alright, then. Get some sleep.”

She does, and he doesn’t. He stares at the opposite wall and listens to her breathe and wonders if he will ever not feel like he’s failing her.

Ellie doesn’t offer much about her weekly appointments with Ezra and Joel doesn’t ask. Instead, she talks about the music they listened to (“None of that Linda Ronstadt shit.”) and begs Joel for a record player. He swaps one of his refurbished guitars for a small portable model at the trading post, and Ezra sends her home with new records each week.

There’s a lot of Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, and AC/DC, all played at a volume that Joel might find concerning if he wasn’t already half deaf.

Late November comes and she hasn’t had a nightmare in two weeks. She still grumbles about going to school, still talks back and swears like a goddamn sailor, but there are no more pink slips and she hasn’t stabbed any more desks. Or students.

Small favors.

They’re walking into the Saturday movie together before he sees Ezra again.

“What’re they playin’?” Joel asks.

“It’s a Wonderful Life," Ellie chirps. "It’s black and white, a classic.”

He wrinkles his nose. “Just ‘cause it’s in black and white don’t make it a classic.”

“Thought you’d like it that way. Means it’s old as dirt, like you.”

“Was born in ‘67, you little shit,” he grumbles. “We had color movies.”

“Whatever you say, grandpa.”

Ellie drags him into the rec center, eager to claim one of the big couches at the back so she can sprawl out and hog three-quarters of the damn thing.

“I save seats, you get popcorn,” she says. Joel makes a show of rolling his eyes at being bossed around, but this is part of the routine. He makes his way to the table with the little wax bags of popcorn and grabs two. He doesn’t like the stuff, it gets stuck in his teeth, but she’ll eat his portion. That’s also part of the routine.

He gets back to the couch and motions for her to scoot over. “I get the corner.”

She obliges, then takes her usual seat, propped against his right side in a heartbreakingly familiar position.

“Don’t fall asleep this time,” he mutters, handing her the popcorn.

“As if,” she scoffs.

“You did last week.”

“Yeah, ‘cause it was one of those stupid action movies.”

“ Die Hard is not a stupid action movie,” Joel grumbles. “You wanna talk about Christmas classics.”

“You’re kidding, right? What part of ‘dude spends two boring-ass hours climbing through air vents’ makes Die Hard a Christmas movie?”

Before he can make his case for Bruce Willis, she catches sight of someone across the room and gasps.

“Hey, Ezra! Over here!”

She jumps up and waves, eliciting a faint smile from the man as he approaches. “Hello, my young prodigy. And…just Joel.”

Joel nods in greeting; his tongue suddenly doesn’t want to cooperate.

“Sit with us,” she says, scooting closer to Joel and patting the seat.

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” Ezra says, eyes flicking uncertainly to Joel’s, but Ellie is already pulling him down on her other side.

“Plenty of room,” Joel coughs. “S’no trouble.”

As soon as Ezra’s butt hits the seat, Ellie begins chattering about Christmas movies as Ezra listens with rapt attention. Joel catches only a fraction of their conversation–he blames his bad ear and the rumble of the crowd filing in around them–but he can’t help but watch the two with an unexpected feeling of relief. It’s clear she’s made a friend.

The opening credits start and Ellie turns back to Joel, tucking herself under his arm. She munches on her popcorn until it’s gone, at which point Joel wordlessly hands her his share.

He’s never liked It’s a Wonderful Life , even less so after Sarah’s death. They watched it every Christmas at her insistence. He thought it was dumb then, and twenty years and an apocalypse have done nothing to change his opinion. But for Ellie, he’ll watch just about anything, one arm draped over the back of the couch as she cuddles up against him. 

Halfway through the movie, with their empty popcorn bags discarded on the floor, Ellie is curled up against Joel’s leg, head pillowed on his thigh, breathing deeply.

“Told ya not to fall asleep,” he murmurs, but he doesn’t try to move or wake her, reaching down to stroke her hair instead. Movie nights are good for something, even if it means suffering through Jimmy Stewart’s manufactured crisis.

When he looks up again, Ezra’s attention has drifted from the movie to watch them, a soft expression on his face. Their eyes meet and he smiles a little and Joel feels that warm flush creep up his neck.

He’s used to people avoiding him. Walking around with his scowl and his “asshole voice”, as Ellie calls it. It worked in the QZ and it works in Jackson. He’s known for being gruff and stoic and taking no bullshit. He saves his smiles for Ellie’s shitty puns.

If that makes him an asshole, so be it.

But Ezra clearly hasn’t gotten the message, and Joel doesn’t know what to make of that.

When the movie is over, he rouses Ellie with a gentle flick to her ear. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

“Mmmph,” she growls. “Didn’t fall asleep, asshole.”

“Sure, kid,” he mutters. “C’mon, let’s get you home.”

She makes it to her feet, rubbing her eyes, and lets Joel help her with her jacket, one of the sleeves having turned inside out in her rush to claim the couch.

“Bye, Ezra,” she yawns.

“Goodnight, young prodigy. Joel,” he nods, those warm brown eyes lingering. He opens his mouth as if to say something else, but doesn’t, and then Ellie is pulling Joel into the exiting crowd.

They’re eating dinner at the caf next week when Ellie brings him up again.

“Ezra wants you.”

Joel chokes on a bite of stew. “W-what?”

“Chew much?” Ellie raises an eyebrow. “I said, Ezra wants to see you.”

“Oh, right, uh…why does…Ezra wanna see me?” he coughs, reaching for his water.

“My last session’s on Wednesday. He wants to ‘check in’ or whatever.”

“Oh…right…fine,” Joel says, pulse suddenly a nagging throb in his throat. “I’ll, uh…I’ll drop by tomorrow before patrol.”

“Tomorrow’s Sunday.”

“Yeah?” Joel stabs at a carrot. “So?”

“Sooooo he’s not in on Sundays.”

“M’sure he can spare five minutes,” Joel mutters.

“Whatever, dude,” Ellie shrugs. “Oh, hey–Dina invited me to go with her and Jesse after stable duty. They’re gonna show me around the south quad; the sheep pasture. Your favorite.”

“Dina…Dina,” Joel mutters, thinking. “Wait, ain’t that the one who–”

“Yeah,” Ellie says, blushing a little. “She’s kinda cool when she’s not being a fucking jerk.”

Joel hides his smile in his mug. “Alright. Just be careful an’ get back here for dinner.”

“Sir, yes sir,” she says through a mouthful of potatoes, throwing in a little mock salute.

This time, he doesn’t bother hiding his smile.

He finds himself on Ezra’s doorstep the next morning. Faint music drifts from inside and by the time he finally works up the courage to knock, Ezra is peering at him from the other side of the glass, half-naked and toweling his hair dry.

“Oh, uh…hey. I, uh–”

Joel tells himself the cold December air accounts for the sudden flush of color in his cheeks. Ezra’s torso is still slick from the shower, a pair of gray sweats hanging low on narrow hips. His bare chest, much like Joel’s, is dappled with scars. He finds himself entranced by a drop of water that escapes a dark curl and lands on his neck, slipping down the length of his throat and settling on one firm pectoral. Joel bites the inside of his lower lip hard.

Maybe Sunday was a bad idea.

“Joel! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

And maybe Joel is reading too much into it, but the way Ezra’s face lights up makes him think it is a pleasure.

“Uh…I can come back–”

But the other man has already opened the door and is ushering him inside. “Nonsense, come in.”

“Ellie said you wanted, uh…needed to see me?”

“I did! I do. ”

The strains of a Tom Petty song float from the office. Ezra ducks in and stops the player with a light needle scratch.

“Coffee? It’s not the genuine article, I’m afraid, just chicory, but I brewed more than enough for two.”

“Uh…sure. Thanks.”

“Make yourself comfortable, I’ll return posthaste.”

‘Posthaste.’ Jesus.

Joel stands at the door of the little office with his hands in his pockets, slowly taking in the room with fresh eyes. He’s drawn to the record shelf. Curious, he thumbs lightly through the stacks of vinyl, finding an eclectic mix of basically everything. There’s even some of “that Linda Ronstadt shit”.

“Your young prodigy prefers Pearl Jam,” Ezra says from the doorway, startling Joel a little. “I’m trying to broaden her horizons a bit.”

He’s put on a t-shirt, his hair still tousled and damp around his ears, and he holds out a steaming mug of chicory coffee.

“Thanks,” Joel takes it gruffly, sips at it, burns his tongue, sputtering and making a damn fool of himself in the process. “Yeah, she’s, uh…she’s really impressed with your collection.”

“We’ve had quite the musical education,” Ezra smiles, that same boyish grin. “I’ve enjoyed her company immensely over these last few weeks, I have to say.”

“Uh…good,” Joel says. “She, uh, said you needed me for somethin’?”

“Sure, sure. Have a seat.”

Joel does, setting his mug down on the coffee table as Ezra does the same. 

“The council mandated twelve weeks; our last appointment is coming up. I just wanted to convey my deep appreciation for–”

The office door, slightly ajar, is suddenly flung open.

“Ez, I’m gonna–whoa.”

A lanky, blonde-haired girl, not much older than Ellie by Joel’s estimation, rushes into the room, then stops short. She blinks at Joel and grimaces in apology.

“Door was open,” the girl says.

“We’re not–I’m not working, Cee,” Ezra says. “Cee, this is Joel. Joel, Cee.”

“Hi,” Cee says. “Sorry, I just…I’m at the greenhouse today. ‘Til six.”

Ezra nods. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, birdie.”

And then she’s gone with a wave and a “later” over her shoulder, and Ezra’s smile softens.

“I have a young prodigy of my own,” he murmurs. “You aren’t the only one to take in a stray.”

“Your kid?”

“No…no, not exactly. I’m afraid I don’t share your fatherly tendencies,” he muses. “Fellow travelers, let’s say. She’s helped me out of a scrape or two, and I do the same when I can. We make a formidable team…as do you and your Ellie, I believe.”

Joel bites his lip. When they were on the road, he would have said they made a good team. Now he’s not so sure.

“Right, uh…you were sayin’, about Ellie?”

Ezra smiles and relaxes back into his chair.

“Joel, I think your young prodigy is quite possibly the sanest person alive in the town of Jackson. She has a knack for seeing things exactly as they are, and the soul of someone twice her age. It’s truly…remarkable. It’s evident she’s endured some trauma, but she has a strong constitution.”

Joel braces himself for the inevitable “but”.

She won’t behave. She swears too much. She’s too loud.

She needs someone who can take care of her, and you’re not cutting it.

You’re failing her.

“But…?”

Ezra raises an eyebrow, shrugs. “That’s it. I know from some…personal experience,” he says, eyes flicking toward the office door, “that it’s sometimes difficult for a man to know where he stands with these things. For what it’s worth, you’re doing a fine job with her.”

Joel snorts softly. “Yeah, right.”

“I am wholeheartedly serious,” the other man says. “I’m sure she’s awash in the usual teenage reticence, but in present company, she speaks of you fondly. She tells me she’s lucky to have you, perhaps not in so many words, but it’s there. And I’d agree. She is lucky to have you, Joel.”

Joel blinks, surprised to feel the prickle of tears in the corners of his eyes, the sudden overwhelming relief of it. He ducks his head.

“That’s…uh…that’s good,” Joel manages. “She’s, uh…”

He can’t finish, his tongue feels stuck in his mouth. Ezra nudges a basket of handkerchiefs across the coffee table, and Joel almost laughs aloud at the absurdity. A year ago, if someone told him he’d be crying in a therapist’s office he would have shot them point blank and slept like a damn baby after.

She’s my whole damn world.

She deserves better.

“She’s a good kid,” he finishes thickly.

“Indeed. For the purposes of the council’s involvement, I don’t think she’s a danger to herself or others,” Ezra continues. “And that’s what I’ll be putting in my report.”

“Alright. That’s…that’s real good,” Joel sighs.

He swipes a cloth from the basket and rubs at his eyes. It’s like taking his first breath of air after drowning. For the first time since arriving in Jackson, he thinks maybe she’s going to be fine. They might just make it through.

Ezra gets up and Joel does the same, crumpling the cloth and stuffing the evidence into his pocket.

“Before you go, would you humor me?” Ezra says. “There’s something I like to do with my clients. Not that you’re a client, but…I’d like to satisfy a certain…curiosity.”

He goes to the record shelf and begins thumbing through the albums as if looking for something specific. Eventually, he pulls one down, examining it thoughtfully before turning and bringing it over.

“Give this a listen,” Ezra murmurs. “Tell me what you think. A…musician’s opinion.”

Butterflies alight in Joel’s stomach at the timbre of his voice. That wanting is back, filling in for the weight of the anxiety he’s carried for so many months. Ezra watches Joel’s face with an odd kind of quiet, as if searching for something.

If Joel didn’t know better, he’d think he was nervous.

“Uh, sure,” he says, accepting the album after a too-long pause. “I’ll…let you know.”

And then the moment is gone, and Joel is leaving, record tucked under one arm, half relieved, half longing, and entirely confused.

Later, he sneaks into Ellie’s room to borrow the record player. He takes it to his room, plugs it in, and unsheathes the album.

Eva Cassidy, Songbird .

Joel recognizes the title track, but it’s a softer rendition, softer than any of the music Ellie has brought home and blasted at top volume.

The woman’s soulful, sweet voice draws him in. It’s almost sad. It’s the kind of music that reminds him of Sarah, something she would have asked him to play on the rare nights he was home with enough time to do so. Something she would have sung along with in her soft soprano voice.

Midnights in winter

The glowing fire

Lights up your face in orange and gold

I see your sweet smile

Shine through the darkness

It's line is etched in my memory

So I'd know you by heart

Before long, he’s reaching for his guitar and replacing the needle to repeat the track, frowning as he tries to suss out the key and the chord progression.

Ellie finds him that way sometime later, perched on the edge of the bed with his guitar in his lap.

“Joel, where’d the record pl–oh, hey.”

“Hey, kiddo,” he says, blinking into the dim light. “Sorry…guess I lost track of time. Got caught up here.”

“What is it?”

“Oh, uh…saw Ezra today. He gave me this,” he gestures to the record. “Thought I’d try to play a little.”

She narrows her eyes. “Did you guys talk about me?”

“Yep,” he says, setting the guitar aside. “Ezra told me all the dirt on you.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Said you’re a menace to society. Should lock you up and throw away the key.”

Ellie grins. “Did not.”

“Did too,” Joel smirks. “Said you’re crazier than a squirrel in a nuthouse. Loonier than a lake full of…uh, loons.”

She giggles, music to his ears. “Shut up.”

He has the sudden, desperate desire to pull her in for a hug and ruffle her hair. He settles for giving her shoulder a squeeze.

“How ‘bout we go get some dinner?” he says, standing and propping Songbird up on his dresser for safekeeping. “My treat.”

“You mean the caf’s treat, asshole. And I want my record player back.”

“Who says it’s yours? Don’t see your name on it.”

“Dude, c’mon .”

“So…what do you know about this Ezra guy?”

It’s Christmas Eve, and they’re sitting at the table in Tommy and Maria’s kitchen. It’s been over a week since his conversation with Ezra. He hasn’t been able to get the other man out of his mind, and he definitely doesn’t know what to make of the record album sitting on his bedroom dresser.

Tommy frowns. “Ezra…Ezra…that the one without an arm?”

“Uh-huh.”

A shrug. “Gettin’ hard to keep track, lot of new folks comin’ through. Think he came in a few months ‘fore you, though. Had a girl with him, that much I remember. Why?”

He takes a sip of his beer. “Just curious, s’all. Ellie was seein’ him for the stuff that happened at school. What’d he do before?”

Giggles float in from the living room. Out of the corner of his eye, Joel watches Ellie sitting on the floor next to the tree–her first Christmas ever , she’d eagerly tell anyone who would listen–playing with baby Isabel while Maria dozes on the couch. All of them are stuffed full of a holiday meal that might have been a week’s worth of rations in the QZ.

Sometimes Jackson feels like a mirage in the desert. It’s almost too normal, too safe to be real.

“Think they broke off from a raidin’ party. Honestly, I don’t think we would’ve taken them in ‘cept the girl was in rough shape. Thought maybe he was…y’know…usin’ her or somethin’.”

Joel winces, shoots his brother a knowing look. They’d seen worse.

“But she insisted. Vouched for him,” Tommy continues. “Bit of an odd pair. Just like you and Ellie, I guess.”

“Hmm.”

“Why you askin’?”

He can’t meet his brother’s eyes. “No reason.”

“He’s an odd one but seems harmless. Or harmless enough. Talks fancy,” he mutters. “His kid’s a bit shy but smart as a whip. Reminds me of–”

Tommy stops abruptly, glancing at Joel from the corner of his eye as he takes a long swallow of beer.

“You can say her name, y’know,” Joel murmurs, frowning, scratching at an invisible spot on the table’s surface. “Sarah.”

“Sarah,” Tommy nods, then continues softly, “To be fair, big brother, there was a time when I couldn’t.”

“Yeah, well…things change,” Joel mutters.

He still can’t look at his niece without thinking of her, can’t hold her without feeling the weight of one who didn’t make it on his heart.

But at least he can say her damn name.

“An’ cheers to that,” Tommy smiles, lightly clinking his bottle against Joel’s. “How’s Ellie doin’, anyway?”

He tips his head toward the living room.

“Better,” Joel says, surprised to find he means it. “Think she’s settlin’ in alright.”

“She’s warmin’ up to me,” Tommy grins. “I know she’s been a little prickly. But the other day she caught me at the stables to ask about goin’ on patrols.”

“What’d you tell her?”

“She’s gotta be sixteen to start trainin’…and she needs your permission. Mighta told her that wouldn’t be a problem,” he grins. “Told her I could sweet talk you into just about anythin’.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “Christ.”

“Offered to take her out at some point if it’s alright with you. Just her and me. Said she’d think about it. That’s somethin’, right?”

The hopeful note in his voice is almost heartbreaking. Sarah and her uncle had been thick as thieves, and Tommy’s eagerness to fill that role for Ellie radiated off him like heat off the pavement in a Texas July. He’d been standing on their doorstep two days after they’d come back to Jackson, ready to be the best damn uncle there ever was.

But Ellie was like a feral cat, slow to warm and quick to bite. Didn’t matter that Tommy was family, didn’t matter that Joel trusted him more than anyone else in Jackson, didn’t matter that Tommy would have let her get away with murder if she asked nice. Whether out of jealousy or fear, she’d resisted his careful advances and bribes.

“Yeah…that’s somethin’,” Joel agrees, smirking. 

“How ‘bout you?”

“How ‘bout me what?”

“How’re you settlin’ in?”

Joel snorts. “You sound like Ezra.”

“Yeah? Well…couldn’t hurt to make some friends, maybe.”

“M’fine, Tommy.”

Tommy shrugs. “Just sayin’. If you’re not careful, Maria’ll try to set you up. Likes to think she’s a matchmaker with all that spare time of hers.”

Joel tries and fails to hide a shudder. Yeah, he’s noticed the attention. It’s a small town with an even smaller dating pool, and he might as well be fresh meat thrown into the lion’s den. Ellie gets a kick out of watching him squirm when women approach him at the caf, is all too eager to string them along on his behalf when she really wants to be a shit-stirrer.

His asshole voice gets plenty of use.

Maybe if it were the right person…well. That would be a different story, one that makes him think of the album on his dresser again.

But he’s sure as hell not gonna tell Tommy any of that.

“M’not lookin’ for anything,” he mutters instead, sipping at his beer. “Got my hands full with that one.”

Ellie sits with the baby in her lap. They’ve turned their attention to the packages under the tree. Joel watches as Ellie picks up the presents one by one, checking the tags and shaking them, then offering them to Izzy to chew on. Tomorrow, half the presents will be sticky with drool and tiny teeth marks.

“You sure do, brother,” Tommy chuckles. “You sure do.”

[maulusque]

Top 20 Funniest Things about Star Wars, in No Particular Order

1. Darth Maul repeatedly dying and then randomly turning up for absolutely no narrative reason, exclusively to ruin Obi-Wan’s day

2. Hondo Ohnaka in general

        2.a. Bonus: Hondo and Maul competing to be Ezra’s Weird Crime Uncle

3. Dave Filoni being forced to spend 6 7 seasons doing narrative backflips to keep Anakin and Grievous from meeting, because of one throwaway line in ROTS about Grievous being short

4. The B1 Battle Droids in any given moment of the Clone Wars, but especially during the movie

       e.g. those two droids on top of the cliff at Teth, arguing about seeing the approaching clone army and fighting over the binoculars, and one of them just fuckin FALLS of the cliff and the other one goes “get BACK HERE          sergeant”

       also e.g. Rex and like, one other guy, completely surrounded by droids and Rex is like “surrender! we have you outnumbered!” and one of the droids is like “hang on” and actually stARTS COUNTING

5. Grievous bailing hard the moment anything goes remotely wrong 

6. Anakin stabbing a guy in cold blood as the Imperial March plays in the background and then looking all offended at Obi-Wan and going “WHAT? he was gonna blow up the ship!”     

7. Dave Filoni’s incessant need to put wolves in Star Wars

8. the fact that the Mandalorian almost died and earned his clan signet on an errand to fetch brunch for a bunch of jawas

9. Rex’s plan on the Rishi Moon base: “ok so to get into the base currently occupied by droids, i’m going to hold a droid head up to the camera and do my best droid impression and ask them nicely to open the door” and it WORKED

        bonus 9.a: that same episode, Cody’s reaction to Rex shooting one of their brothers (as far as he knew) right in the face was “HECK”

10. Kallus, to Ezra and Kanan: ok you have to knock me out so i don’t get caught as a spy. it has to be convincing.

Ezra: ok *uses the force to fucking YEET kallus through like three panes of glass*

Kanan: EZRA

Ezra: WHAT? that is convincing

Kanan: yeah, but i was gonna do it

11. Kylo Ren stalking into the war room and going “i sense... unease... about my appearance.” and all the generals rushing to compliment his new mask

12. those two stormtroopers in TFA walking around the corner, seeing Kylo Ren having a tantrum and beating up a console with his lightsaber, and just quietly backing away

13. Stormtrooper bonking his head in A New Hope

14. Rex bonking his head on a pipe

15. “It’s ok that we’re here.” “It’s ok that you’re here.” “It’s GREAT that you’re here.” “You’re relieved that we’re here.” “THANK GOODNESS you’re here” “Welcome, guys.”

16. the fact that Palpatine was is still so pissed off about Anakin slam-dunking him down the garbage chute at the end of Return of the Jedi that he had a giant pit built in his Secret Backup Fortress specifically so that he could throw Anakin’s grandson down it thirty years later like that level of PETTINESS

17. Darth Bane was voiced by MARK FUCKING HAMIL

18. Boba Fett dies by blind, confused Han Solo going “BOBA FETT?? WHERE????” and spinning around and accidentally backhanding him into the Sarlacc Pit (of course he’s not really dead shhhhhh fuck you disney)

19. those two scout troopers in episode 8 of the Mandalorian, having captured Baby Yoda and radioing in to try to tell Moff Gideon that they captured the asset like “is he available yet” “yeah, he just killed an officer for interrupting him, so it could be a while.” “ugh ok whatever. Standing by. Still.”

20. the fact that, from Obi-Wan’s point of view, ROTS is just fucking bonkers. Like, he and Anakin rescue the chancellor, everything’s going well, he tells Anakin he’s proud of him, and then he leaves to kill Grievous and just when he succeeds and the war is just about over, Cody tries to shoot him off a cliff and when he makes it back to Coruscant, Anakin is slaughtering a bunch of children and swearing allegiance to a Sith Lord and Obi-Wan has NO IDEA what the FUCK happened there

21. Twilight of the Apprentice from Darth Vader’s point of view: you chase down a bunch of Rebels to a secret Sith Planet. You go to the Temple. Surprise! Your old apprentice is there, along with some random jedi kid. She forces the kid to flee the collapsing temple, and then you proceed to have a big ol’ lightsaber fight but like THIRTY SECONDS LATER, a portal opens up in mid-air, the SAME KID but with a different haircut pops out, grabs your apprentice, and just fuckin vanishes. Poof. Gone. Like, that is just something that happened to Darth Vader one day and it’s just something he had to deal with.

22. JJ Abrams dedicating an entire scene in Rise of Skywalker to calling out Rian Johnson’s shitty Luke-related decisions from TLJ. Rey throwing away the lightsaber and ForceGhost!Luke catching it and going “wow hey maybe treat a Jedi’s weapon with a little more respect RIAN” and “hey Rey don’t do what I did and fuck off to the ass-end of nowhere for twenty years and refuse to do anything useful because that was really stupid and pointless and out of character of me, wasn’t it RIAN”

[x-wing-junkie]

New fic for @karabastard! A modern restaurant AU that was a joy to write!

Here's a preview:

~~~

“Be nice,” Hera warned as soon as Zeb walked in the door.

“What?” he asked, holding his arms out in a wide shrug.  “I’m always nice.”

The look that Hera gave him clearly said he wasn’t.  “I hired a new manager and he’s here.”

Zeb slumped.  He knew Hera needed to be home more lately; there was the baby coming in a few months and Kanan was still recovering from that nasty fall he took in the kitchen.  Still, anyone other than the two of them running the place just seemed wrong.

Fántasma had belonged to Hera’s parents, a staple of Mediterranean comfort food in Lothal for years until they retired and transferred ownership over to Hera.  They’d hired Zeb, who brought in some new flavors to the restaurant while still keeping the same staples that kept customers coming back year after year.  And, Zeb thought, he’d been doing a good job.

“Tell me he’s just front-of-house,” Zeb said.

“He’s front-of-house,” Hera confirmed.  “Your iron grip on the kitchen remains.”

Zeb grinned, feeling cheerful again.  “He stays out here, we’ll get along.”

Before Zeb could head on back to the kitchen, Hera grabbed his arm.  “Zeb, I mean it when I say be nice.”

“Okay, now I’m worried.”  Zeb looked around the restaurant.  No one he could see but the lunch wait staff.  But Hera had said the new manager was there, which meant…

He was in the kitchen.

Zeb stopped in the doorway and stared in dismay.

Standing at his expediting station, examining the line setup, was his worst nightmare.

Alexsandr Kallus had been in his same classes in culinary school, until it became clear he didn’t have the creative talents necessary to be a true chef.  Last Zeb had heard, he’d been working as maître d’ at some fancy place downtown, which let him use his theoretically much-more-developed people skills to manage the place.

Theoretically.  Zeb had never found him all that pleasant, especially when they vied for the same scholarships and internships.

“Kallus,” he said blandly, trying not to let his disdain show.

The man turned around, one of his trademark pompous expressions on his face.  Upon seeing Zeb, however, his face morphed into abject disappointment.  “Orrelios.”

Hera pushed past Zeb, standing between the two of them.  She gave them a stern look, one she usually saved for Ezra.  “I trust that both of you are adults and professionals and won’t have a problem working together?  I’ll be here when I can, but you’re still going to have to play nice when I’m not.”  Looking at Zeb, she asked, “Got that?”

“Got it,” Zeb said grudgingly.  He looked at Kallus, noticing that even though he’d combed it back, some of his blond hair had escaped and hung loose.  “As long as you don’t mess with my fuckin’ kitchen or my fuckin’ menu.”

“I understood Fántasma needed managerial help,” Kallus said.  “Or was I misinformed?”

“Alexsandr,” Hera said.  “Fántasma runs fairly smoothly already.  I need to know that’s going to continue while I’m away.  I trust the two of you to make this a well-oiled machine.”

“Of course,” Kallus said, backing down immediately, though Zeb could just imagine him filing away that ‘fairly smoothly’ for later abuse.

Turning his back on the other two, Zeb put his things in the small lockers, using the top one that only he could reach, usually.  It wasn’t that he had anything to hide.  The other kitchen staff were simply shorties, compared to him, and he always let them all use the lower lockers.  Pretending Kallus wasn’t there, he spoke to Hera.  “I want to use that shrimp you brought in yesterday, so I was thinking a sorta jambalaya using orzo instead of rice.  Some olives, too.  How does that sound?”

“Like a mess,” said Kallus.

Zeb tensed, fighting every urge in his body to turn around and deck the man.  In my kitchen…

“Sounds like the sort of thing everyone loves from you, Zeb,” Hera said.

Wondering if Hera was regretting hiring Kallus yet, Zeb acted as if he hadn’t heard him and smiled.  “Good.  That’s what we’ll do, then.  I left some shrimp and sausage marinating; I’ll whip up a roux and see what you think.”

Turning around, Zeb saw the sour look on Kallus’s face turn to a smile when Hera glanced his way.

Point to Zeb, then.

[secretpajamas]

a different kind of rush;

an ezra x reader fic

pairing: ezra (prospect) x female reader

rating: explicit

genre: romance/smut/and they were roommates (oh my god they were roommates)

words: 5.6k

part 2 of 2 (read part one HERE)

please scroll to the end to “content” if you would like to know specific smut-related content before reading!

--

When you emerged from the shower, you changed into your long sleep shirt (the thing was far too old and ratty at this point to be considered a “nightgown”). Even though it wasn’t dark out yet, you figured you might as well go to bed at the rate this day was going.

As you slowly crept through the tent partition, you noticed that Ezra was gone—and so was his gear.

You found a note in Ezra’s barely-legible scrawl placed at the foot of your bed.

“Starstone quality check,” you mumbled, reading the note aloud.

Starstone was so finicky that it was necessary to check up on it in storage to make sure it maintained its stability. But you knew in your gut he was avoiding you. While he was out, you cleaned the filters and checked the tanks like you always did—minus the filter and tank that Ezra was currently using—the methodical work helping soothe your nerves a little.

When Ezra came back in, you were sitting up in bed, reading the book Ezra’s kid Cee had hand-written (“She didn’t come up with the story, but she basically rewrote the whole damn thing herself. Smarter than she knows, that kid.”). It wasn’t your usual kind of story, and not even your usual medium of consumption (you preferred late-night radio dramas, but they broadcast from the Ephrate—the signal was spotty at best in the Fringes and nonexistent here in the Reach), but it was captivating nonetheless.

You didn’t look up from the book as Ezra walked in. Neither of you said a word.

Part of you was relieved that you didn’t talk about it.

The other part of you was desperate to talk about it.

--

The next morning, you woke to Ezra sitting at his makeshift desk—a chair set in front of an old wooden shipping crate—swirling together the starstone enzyme bath. He was wearing a pair of boxer shorts and a gray t-shirt, his hair already matted with perspiration from the heat.

You grumbled and slowly sat up.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” Ezra said, not lifting his eyes from his work.

“Mmph,” was your sleepy response.

“Oats are ready if you have a hankering,” he continued, gesturing with his head towards the “kitchen”—another wooden shipping crate, this one with a battery-operated stove placed on top.

You were suddenly very awake at the promise of food. “Please tell me there’s coffee, too.”

“Haven’t made it yet,” he replied. “Go easy on the stuff, you’ve drunk near all my supply.”

“I believe food and board is included in my contract.” You yawned before shuffling your way over to the stove.

“Food and board, sweetheart, not drink.” Ezra held the canister of freshly mixed enzyme solution between his knees as he twisted on the cap with his hand.

Your stomach rumbled and you eagerly grabbed your bowl of oatmeal. After wolfing down your breakfast, you filled Ezra’s rickety kettle with water and set it on the stove, turning the power up to high. You pawed around the mismatched collection of canteens piled next to the stove until you found two clean ones and set them out, along with four packets of powdered coffee (three for you, one for Ezra). It was the instant stuff anyone could grab for cheap at a shuttle station, and it tasted wretched, but it did its job.

As you waited for the water to boil—not long when the water in storage was already warm thanks to this planet’s heat—You heard Ezra stand up and approach you. When you felt his hand brush the small of your back, you shivered.

Ezra huffed. “Are you cold? For cryin’ out loud, woman, it’s hotter’n two channel-rats fuckin’ in a wool sock.”

“Must be caffeine withdrawal,” you lied, knowing full well it was Ezra’s touch.

He rubbed his thumb back and forth and you nearly shivered again. “I suppose it’s high time I replenish our supplies,” he said, “lest you pillage the remainder of my coffee.”

When the kettle began to whistle, you switched off the stove and poured equal amounts of hot water into the cups—and unequal amounts of coffee packets. All the while, Ezra’s hand stayed on your back.

“Speaking of supplies, we could use another full O2 tank,” you said, trying your best to ignore how your stomach did somersaults every time Ezra absentmindedly rubbed his thumb against the material of your sleep shirt, “and coolant for the air circulators.”

“I’m well aware,” Ezra said, “but thank you kindly for the reminder.”

You offered Ezra his canteen of coffee. You mourned the loss of his hand on your back, but feeling the brush of his fingers against yours as you handed him his cup was nearly as electrifying.

“S’posin’ we pull a good haul of starstone today, I can ready the pod for the shuttle station tomorrow,” he said between sips. “Be back within a couple days’ time.”

You swallowed down a lump in your throat along with your coffee. You did need supplies, but it was hardly urgent—was he really that keen on avoiding you? But the way he just touched your back—he’d never been more intimate than friendly pats on the shoulder before—

“The shuttle station gets a clearer radio signal to the Ephrate,” Ezra continued, “I can have a good an’ proper talk with Cee.”

Oh. He wants to talk to his kid, you moron. Why did you make this about yourself and your ill-timed masturbatory ventures?

“I’ll hold down the fort, then,” you said between gulps of your coffee.

“I’m countin’ on it,” Ezra said. “Now let’s score some stone afore this bitch of a planet bakes us alive.”

–

Ezra was gone before you woke, but you had expected it. He told you as much last night. But you still couldn’t shake the notion that he was avoiding you. You sighed deeply before untangling yourself from the bedsheets and crawling over to make your morning coffee.

On the table, the kettle was already set out on the stovetop, along with three coffee packets, a clean canteen, and a note from Ezra.

“Radio at 21:00,” you mumbled. That was tonight—so he was planning to call you as soon as he got in. You couldn’t help but smile as you made your coffee.

You didn’t have to mine today or tomorrow, thanks to working double-time yesterday (and your aching muscles certainly reminded you of that), but there was still plenty to do around the tent. After gulping down your coffee, you started with the pile of laundry in the corner. It was the most urgent order of business, based on how it was beginning to climb up the wall—and how much it stunk. You filled a basin with water and soap and got to work.

While hanging the garments to dry, you noticed a pair of Ezra’s compression pants had a tear in the thigh—thankfully, it was on a side seam, so you could easily sew it shut. You noted to fix it as soon as it was finished drying. You wondered if you could mend anything else, noting Ezra’s ratty assortment of boxers and briefs. If he made any cash in the aurelac rush, he certainly didn’t spend any of it on underwear. You could mend holes, but you couldn’t work miracles.

As you waited for the clothes to dry, you snacked on a ration bar and read more of Cee’s book. You were invested in the characters now, despite your initial skepticism of the subject matter. You had to admit, it was a bit of a page-turner. After a while, you didn’t want to put it down. You moved from sitting at Ezra’s desk to leaning against one of the tent supports to laying on your bed mat, your eyes glued to the page.

When you finally came to a satisfying enough chapter to pause your reading, you looked around for a piece of scrap paper to mark your place. You picked up Ezra’s note and tucked it inside the pages before shutting the book. You noticed the laundry hanging up was dry—had you really been reading that long? Oh well. Time to get mending.

–

You had mended Ezra’s pants, a pair of his socks, and were about to sew a button back on the pocket of your suit when you heard your name crackle from the radio headset in the corner. Startled, you dropped your work, the button skittering across the floor.

“Gimme a minute!” You shouted, hoping your headset would pick it up from across the tent. You quickly found the runaway button and placed it on Ezra’s desk before scrambling to your side of the tent to put on your headset.

“Sorry about that,” you said, “I’m here. You get in okay?”

“All in one piece,” came Ezra’s voice in your ear, “give or take an arm.”

You rolled your eyes at Ezra’s wisecrack. “Talk to Cee yet?”

“Not yet,” Ezra said, “with the time difference between here and the Ephrate, she’s still in class. I shan’t interrupt her studies.”

You looked at the book where it lay on Ezra’s desk and smiled. “Well, when you call her, tell her I said hello.”

“Will do.”

“So, what station did you end up at?” You asked.

“Trinity,” Ezra replied.

“Trinity,” you said, “don’t think I’ve been on Trinity since the rush.”

“Ain’t any different,” Ezra said, “still got egregious docking fees and an abundance of unpleasant company.”

“Already shooed away a pick-pocket busker, haven’t you?”

“Several,” Ezra grumbled, “Damn this stump, they think I’m an easy target.”

“Were any of them good players, at least?” You asked.

“Truthfully, the boy on the panpipes was a talented little devil,” he said, “both in playing his instrument and his victims. I let him pilfer a coin from my pocket—I fancy myself a patron of the arts.”

You snorted. “You keep coin in your pocket? On Trinity?”

“Sweetheart, it’s the decoy cash,” Ezra explained. “You keep a couple low-credit coin in your pocket for the vandals so that they don’t go scroungin’ for the heavy-hittin’ gems in your suit lining.”

“Speaking of your suit lining,” you said, “I’ve been doing some mending.”

You heard Ezra’s raspy laugh through your headset. “Don’t suppose you’ve been sewin’ up my underthings.”

“Those are hopeless,” you remarked, “I meant your spare compression pants.”

“Ah!” Ezra said. “I do recall those had a rip in ’em. I was fixin’ to fix those.”

“Well, I figured I’d do it as long as I had the time,” you said. “Also darned a pair of your socks.”

“Are you anglin’ for a raise?” You could hear the smile in Ezra’s voice.

“Your listing did say ‘compensation negotiable,’” you replied.

“Hmm. That it did,” Ezra said. “Perhaps we shall negotiate upon my return.”

The radio line lay silent for a moment, and you felt a nervous pang in your stomach. Enough small talk. You needed to say something about what happened the other day—even if it was just to apologize.

“Ezra?”

“Yes, sweetheart?” He replied.

“Is everything... Okay? With us?” You asked, trying to suppress the anxiety in your voice.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Ezra replied, before quickly adding in lowered tone, “Did somethin’... rub you the wrong way?”

“Kevva help me,” you grumbled, feeling the wave embarrassment crawl up your spine. “I’m so sorry, Ezra. It won’t happen again.”

“Stop apologizin’. There ain’t a thing wrong indulgin’ in a little well-earned self-pleasure.”

The way he said pleasure made your breath hitch. You hoped like hell it didn’t pick up on the radio.

“If there’s one thing I’ve come to realize in my years,” he said, “is that there’s no use feelin’ shame in feelin’ good.”

His voice was smooth and deliberate now. That bastard knew exactly what he was doing to you. “So don’t you stop yourself because of me—truthfully, I don’t mind. Not one bit.”

Hesitantly, you reached down to press the heel of your hand against your clit, choking back a moan threatening to escape your throat—but not entirely succeeding.

You heard Ezra’s breath coming loud and heavy through the radio. “Are you touchin’ yourself right now, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you gasped out, your previous inhibitions completely shattered.

“Fuck,” Ezra replied. “Thank Kevva this radio headset is hands-free.”

You heard what might have been Ezra undoing his zipper—and your suspicions were confirmed when you heard a low moan through the radio.

“Ezra—”

“Do you have the faintest idea what you do to me, woman?” The line swelled with static and the throaty rasp of Ezra’s voice. “Told myself not to—made myself not think of you like that. It ain’t proper. But when you—you let me watch—”

You whined and slid your hand beneath your underwear. “I was thinking of you,” you confessed, “always thinking of you—”

“It’s a cryin’ shame,” Ezra said, “all I’ve got is spit-slick and a weak hand wishin’ like hell it was you.”

You sped up the pace of your fingers as he continued.

“If you were here,” he said, “I’d bury myself inside you so deep—ah, fuck—’til you were the only thing I could feel.”

At his words, you slid two fingers inside yourself up to the knuckle, arching your hips, trying to get them as deep as they could go, thumb tirelessly working at your clit.

“I want that,” you panted, “I want you.”

“—Make you come on my cock again and again ’til you’re dizzy with it,” he said, “fuck you so hard you feel it the next day.”

Ezra’s words were pushing you close to the edge. “Ezra, I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” he groaned, “let me hear you, sweetheart.”

You came to the overwhelming sound of Ezra’s broken moans and your own desperate cries and the static of the radio and the beating of your heart—

a discordant symphony of absolute ecstasy.

–

Ezra returned the following night with a full pod of supplies. You worked together like a well-oiled machine, moving various goods from the pod to the tent in an orderly fashion. You both made small talk—Cee was doing well at the Academy, the shuttle station shop was stocked enough with what they needed, no, they didn’t have real coffee, just the shit stuff in packets.

Despite the friendly conversation, the air was thick with unspoken words.

It was hot out—as it always was on this planet—so you breathed a huge sigh of relief when you had both moved all the supplies to the tent and you could leave the sweaty pod. You both discarded your helmets and stood in front of the air circulator on Ezra’s side of the tent, sifting through the supplies and placing them where they belonged throughout the tent.

When you reached at the same time as Ezra for a can of coolant, your hands collided, sending a shockwave up your arm and stopping your breath.

You both froze, staring at your hands where they met.

Slowly, carefully, Ezra intertwined your fingers with his.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he whispered, those beautiful brown eyes of his gazing at you tenderly.

You couldn’t take it anymore—you climbed over the pile of supplies between you and pressed your lips to his.

He let out a surprised little noise against your mouth before returning the kiss with fervor, wrapping his arm tightly around you and pressing you close to his chest.

“Couldn’t—stop—thinkin’ of you,” he said between kisses.

“Do you want to—can we—” You gasped against his mouth.

“Yes,” he breathed, scrambling to work at the zips and fasteners on his suit. He didn’t object when you reached out to help remove the suit—and honestly, you weren’t thinking of it as helping him, more like getting all your clothes off as fast as possible because holy shit this was happening. Ezra had already removed his boots when he took his helmet off earlier, and you were only dressed in your undershirt and shorts, so this blasted contraption of a suit was the main obstacle.

You both managed to get the damn thing off and Ezra kicked it aside. He reached back, grabbing his sweaty t-shirt behind the collar to tug it over his head. You grasped the hem of your top and pulled it up and off, throwing it to the growing pile of discarded clothing.

You were about to strip off your shorts when Ezra reached for you again, kissing your mouth, your jaw, your neck, down to the tops of your breasts along the edge of your bra. You scrambled to unclasp it, letting it fall to the floor. Ezra wasted no time, cupping a breast in his hand and lavishing kisses on the other. When you felt the wet heat of his tongue against your nipple, you cried out, grabbing his hair and giving it a tug. He moaned against your breast before pulling away to look at you.

“Let’s take this to a bed,” you urged.

Ezra nodded vigorously in agreement and you both stumbled over to his bed mat, falling atop the sheets in a tangle of limbs.

Ezra sat up and you situated yourself on his lap, wrapping your legs around him. You could kiss him like this for hours, his tongue in your mouth, your fingers in his hair, his hand steady and warm on your back.

When you both took a moment to catch your breath, Ezra cleared his throat and looked you in the eye, his expression almost timid.

“I must confess, I have not had the chance to... partake, since I lost my arm,” he said. “I may not be as formidable a sparrin’ partner as I once was.”

“Ezra, I’m sure it doesn’t matter,” you said, leaning in to kiss him again. He stopped you with a press of a finger to your lips.

“Allow me to enlighten you.” He shrugged with his stump. “Nothin’s as it once was. I can’t even take a piss the same way. Ever try to hold a dick with a hand that ain’t there?”

“Can’t say I have,” you said.

“Oh, hush, birdie, you can understand the sentiment,” Ezra grumbled. “Everything is at the behest of my damned weak hand. I can’t read my own handwriting anymore. Can’t shoot like I used to—my grip’s shit on the left. Even gettin’ dressed is harder than minin’ aurelac.”

He took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair before continuing. “And as long as we’re on the subject of minin’, I can no longer mine most things on my lonesome. Each harvest is hardly half of my previous yields, and I got the kid to support on top of everything. Now, Cee deserves every bit of that support, do not misunderstand my words—I would move Kevva and earth for that girl. But such meager wages do tend to make one feel... inadequate. A man’s work is no petty thing.”

You listened to Ezra attentively, not knowing how you could get it across to him that he was no less of a man in your eyes than if he had two arms. You wanted to reassure him, but he pressed on.

“So please, allow me to posit this caveat,”  he said, “that I intend to make love to you, and to do so to the fullest of my capabilities—but even my best efforts may prove... unsatisfactory.”

Make love. Ezra wanted to make love to you. Your heart stuttered in your chest.

You were so stunned by Ezra’s choice of vocabulary that it took you a moment to process what he said.

“Oh,” you said. “You don’t think you can make me come.”

Ezra ducked his head; you could have sworn he was blushing. “You always cut right to the quick.”

You cupped his cheek, running your thumb along the little white scar there.

“Ezra, I don’t care. I just want this. With you.” You glanced down to where you straddled his lap, rolling your hips a little against his growing arousal. “And forgive me if I’m assuming things, but it seems like you want it, too.”

Ezra moaned quietly at your movements. “My desire was never in question, I assure you,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smile.

You leaned in and kissed him softly. He returned the kiss before gently moving you off his lap.

“Lie down, sweetheart,” he whispered, and you eagerly obliged, reclining on the mattress. He settled on top of you, propping himself up on his elbow, kissing you passionately. Eager to get your hands on him, you hooked a finger under his waistband and gave a tug.

“Whoa there,” Ezra said, “slow down, spitfire.”

You moved your hand away. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’, believe me. But those clever hands of yours will have to wait, because I’ve been starvin’ for you,” he said with a sly grin, kissing a path down your breasts to your stomach, “and I can no longer deny myself a taste.”

It took a moment for your Ezra Translator to kick in. “Oh.” You scrambled to shimmy your shorts and underwear down. Ezra took over, pulling them all the way off and tossing them over his shoulder before leaning down to continue his trail of kisses.

He nudged at your thigh with his head and you eagerly opened your legs for him. Rough stubble tickled your thighs as he kissed his way to your cunt. At the first feeling of his hot breath against your clit, your hips jumped up out of their own volition, knocking Ezra off his left elbow and face-planting him onto the bed beneath you.

“Sorry!” You squeaked. You reached out to steady him but stopped yourself—you knew he hated being helped.

“Hell’s bells,” Ezra grunted. He gripped at the sheets with his hand as he slowly pushed himself to sit upright.

“Left arm ain’t worth shit,” he grumbled under his breath, “can’t even hold me up.”

“It’s alright, Ezra,” you said, “we can try again.”

“Indeed we can,” Ezra said. He lay down on his back next to you and motioned to his chin. “Take a seat, sweetheart.”

“Um,” you started. You’d done this before, but not like that. “I don’t want to—hurt you.”

“Kevva’s sake, woman, I ain’t gonna break,” Ezra said, then added with a grin, “if I suffocate on account of your cunt, I will embrace death with open arms. Well, one of ’em, anyway.”

“Oh, shut up,” you said with a groan.

“Here lies Ezra, drowned in pussy,” he continued teasing, eyeing you with a wicked grin.

You hesitantly shuffled toward him. Drumming up some courage, you knelt above him, one knee on either side of his head. You were so nervous that you could hear your pulse roaring in your ears.

Whether impatient or just eager, Ezra grabbed you by the hip, then, and urged you down onto his mouth.

You gasped, bracing yourself as you felt the white-hot warmth of his tongue against your cunt. You choked back a moan, your hips stuttering forward, trying not to grind down too hard on his face. Ezra was having none of that. He urged you to move, his hand gripping your hip and firmly pulling you forward. With a little more certainty, you rocked your hips forward and back, making his tongue slide against your clit in long strokes. You moaned again, louder this time, and Ezra hummed his desperate response, burying his face in your pussy like a man starving.

You rutted against him urgently, your thighs beginning to burn from holding yourself up over him. Your movements became less graceful, more desperate—you slid forward too far, causing your slit to grind against the bridge of his nose, and you’d be embarrassed if didn’t feel so damn good. You were right on the precipice, moments away from shaking apart, when Ezra stilled your hips with his hand and brought you back to his tongue. He latched his mouth over your clit and sucked on it, wet and sloppy and fucking perfect.

“Fuck, Ezra,” you gasped, the heat coiling inside you tighter and tighter, “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna—”

Ezra growled, his teeth grazing your clit for a moment, and the jolt of sensation just on the right edge of pain had you coming so hard you thought you might black out. You stumbled forward, reaching out to break your fall, your cunt pulling away from his mouth. Somehow, Ezra knew you needed more, reaching behind his head for you and guiding you back in place with his hand. He began to lap at you again, working you through another shaking shockwave of pleasure.

You had to pull away before it was too much. You collapsed next to Ezra on the too-small mattress, trying to catch your breath, feeling your thighs burn and your cunt twitch and your heart sing.

“Give me a minute,” you gasped.

“Take all the time you need, sweetheart,” Ezra said, equally breathless.

You turned to look at Ezra. His face was flushed red, beads of sweat dripping down to mix with your slick that had ended up all over his mouth and chin—and his nose. He looked absolutely filthy and you’d be mortified if he didn’t look so damn pleased with himself.

You reached for your discarded t-shirt and gently wiped at his face, cleaning up the most offensive wet patches before tossing it aside again. “Sorry,” you said.

Ezra chuckled. “I do not accept your apology, ma’am,” he teased. “That was sexier than hittin’ a motherlode of aurelac.”

“Now that’s high praise,” you teased back.

“C’mere and kiss me,” he all but whispered, reaching out to hold your chin between his thumb and index finger. You closed the distance and pressed your lips against his. It was almost chaste—if not for the knowledge of where that mouth had just been.

He pressed his forehead against yours. You breathed deeply, absentmindedly playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck.

You looked down at the straining bulge in his pants, snaking your hand down to stroke at him through the fabric. A little choked moan tumbled from his throat at your touch.

“Let’s take this off,” you said, thumbing the waistband. He nodded in agreement, laying on his back and lifting his hips so you could pull his pants down and off in short order. His cock sprang free, hard and aching.

You licked your lips. “No underwear?”

“Too fuckin’ hot for underwear,” he said, gasping when you gently rested your hand on the crease where his thigh met his hip.

You moved your hand up and down his thigh, making him squirm and thrust up against nothing but air. He practically whined, his hand clawing at the sheets.

“Touch me,” he begged, voice cracking.

“I am touching you,” you said with a wolfish grin.

“Damn it, woman,” he groaned, “if the heat don’t kill me, you sure as shit will have the pleasure yourself.”

“Patience,” you chided, not sure how long you could keep this up—you wanted him inside you, and you wanted him now—but you loved seeing him spread out and desperate for you.

Finally, you wrapped your hand around him and gave a long, firm stroke. He threw his head back and moaned, arching into your touch. You licked your lips as you studied his cock, the thick length of it twitching ever so slightly in your hand. You rubbed at the underside of the head with your thumb and your mouth watered when a bead of precome welled up at the tip. On instinct, you moved down to lick it off.

Ezra cursed, bucking up to meet your mouth. You held him down by the hip before taking him into your mouth as far as you could.

“Fuck, sweetheart—I—fuck!” Ezra cried out, clawing at the sheets with his hand, writhing against your hand where it held him down. When you tentatively reached down to gently squeeze his balls, he nearly sobbed.

“I’m gonna—” Ezra gasped.

You pulled your mouth off of him, then, replacing it with your hand, not moving, just holding him at the base.

“Hold on, I didn’t say stop,” he said with a breathless chuckle. “Everything alright?”

“I want you inside me,” you whispered, barely audible.

Ezra reached out to still your movements. “I don’t have protection, sweetheart,” he said, voice strained.

You bit your bottom lip, averting Ezra’s gaze for a moment. “I have the implant,” you said, looking him in the eye again.

Ezra’s eyebrow shot up. “Well, shit, woman,” he said. “Thought they only had those fancy contraptions in the Ephrate.”

“They do,” you said. “I did have some decent money, once. In the rush. Before my crew took it all and left.”

“You and I have trod similar paths, so it would seem,” Ezra said.

“The rush left a lot of us in the dust,” you said.

Ezra nodded. “The deadliest dust there is.”

After a long moment, he sat up to kiss you, just a gentle press of lips. You put your arms around him and closed your eyes, breathing with him for a moment.

“How do you want to—which way should we—” you stumbled over your words.

“You may have me whichever way you desire,” Ezra said, voice low in your ear, “and I will do my darnedest to provide.”

“Can—can you be on top?” You started, “I mean—I will if it’s easier, but my thighs are kind of killing me.”

Ezra chuckled, and you thrilled at the vibration of it against your chest. “Lay back,” he said.

You complied, laying down on the bed mat. He reached behind you to grab the pillow.

“Lift up that pretty ass of yours for me,” he said, and you did. Kneeling before you, he placed the pillow under your hips.

“Reckon my knees will hold me up longer than my arm,” he said, gripping your hip to tug you towards him.

“Guess both our thighs will be burning tonight,” you said with a sly smile.

“Worth every ache,” he replied, taking himself in hand.

He slowly rubbed at your slit with the head of his cock. You moaned, your cunt clenching against thin air as you felt wetness dribble down. Ezra dragged his cockhead through the slick, gathering it before rubbing at your clit directly. You gasped at the jolt of pleasure lighting up your body—it felt so good you could cry. You could hardly stand the teasing anymore, wanting him inside you now more than ever.

“Ezra, please,” you begged.

At your urging, he lined himself up and slid inside you with one deliberate movement. The sensation of his thick cock filling you up, the almost-aching stretch of it—it was better than you ever imagined. He grabbed you by the hip again to pull you even closer as he began to thrust into you at a steady pace.

“Look at you,” Ezra said, his voice gravelly and low, “takin’ my cock like it was made for you. Shoulda known you’d feel this good, sweetheart.”

“Ezra,” you panted, “Ezra.”

You looked up at Ezra as he filled you completely—from his pupils blown wide and his lips slightly parted, to the broad expanse of his shoulders, to the torso adorned with freckles and scars, to—fuck, where his cock was seated deep in your cunt—he was more beautiful than any gemstone.

You could tell Ezra was trying to control the pace of his thrusts, biting his lip in concentration. You didn’t want him to hold back.

“Harder,” you breathed.

“I ain’t gonna last,” Ezra said through gritted teeth.

“I don’t care!” You cried out, clenching down on him.

“Fuck!” Ezra leaned forward and braced himself against the bed, arm trembling with the effort as he set a brutal pace, fucking into you hard and deep and unrelenting. You nearly screamed.

“Touch yourself, sweetheart,” Ezra’s voice was frantic and loud, “come for me, please, please, fuck!”

You rubbed your clit for hardly a moment before you shook apart, your cunt spasming around his cock, your body consumed in flames of pleasure so intense you could hardly breathe.

Ezra managed a few more thrusts before he came with a shout, his cock inside you as deep as it could go.

–

In the aftermath, Ezra collapsed beside you, absolutely exhausted. You turned your head to kiss him, lazy and slow.

“If it’s alright with you,” he said, his breath warm and close, “I’m inclined to take the day off tomorrow.”

“We’re sure going to be sore,” you sighed.

“Well, yes,” he agreed, “but I’m keen on more...sparrin’ practice.”

“You can say sex, you know,” you laughed, “not everything has to be a metaphor.”

Ezra smiled. “I do have an inclination to run my mouth, don’t I.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

Ezra just rolled his eyes before taking your hand in his, your fingers twining together.

“I just realized,” you said, looking over at Ezra’s desk, “I could’ve sat on that chair instead of your face. Would’ve made things easier.”

Ezra’s eyes widened a fraction, looking over at the chair, then back to you.

“Why didn’t I think of that? I am dumber than a box of rocks,” he said with a chuckle. “But I do believe my method is superior.”

“We’ll have to test your theory,” you said. “Do some serious research.”

Ezra nodded eagerly before setting a steely expression with a furrowed brow. “Of course.”

--

content: phone sex (well, radio sex if you wanna get technical), cunnilingus, face-sitting, blowjob, vaginal sex

a/n: listen. all the scifi sex I write will conveniently make use of “the implant” purely so they can raw-dog it. also like where tf is ezra gonna go buy space condoms. this is set in the fringes of the galaxy. it’s not like he can pop over to space cvs and get some cosmic cock wrappers for his magnum dong. they don’t carry them at the shuttle station, okay?

and yes I DO go back and forth in my fics deciding whether “come” or “cum” is hotter/more grammatically correct/etc and this is a come fic, apologies to the cum crowd

special thanks to taylor (@damerondjarin​) for the exchange of messages that inspired this fic, and for all the moral support thereafter. believe it or not this entire fic was supposed to be JUST the face-sitting sex scene and uh it expanded from there. Oops.