#ezra prospect x f!reader w/cee | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

perotovar · 1 year ago

Text

hey sweeties!! kel and i put a list together of all the submissions we got for our event and split them into two masterlists of fics for you all to read and enjoy! this is my part of the list, so if you don't see yours give @beskarandblasters 's list >here< a look and see if that's where your fic/submission ended up!

we can't thank you enough for submitting and helping us give a voice to the smaller writers of the fandom ♥ oh, and for any multi chapter fics/series, we only read the first chapters to make it fair!

please make sure to read each fic's warnings carefully and happy reading! ♥

@iamskyereads - Compulsion (Ezra x ofc!Beatrice)

i can't even begin to describe how much i love this fic already. it's so smart and the worldbuilding?? incredible!! it feels like a sequel to the film, or like it could easily take place in the same universe. just brilliant. and ezra's voice is so clear here, i could hear him saying every word. and the oc, beatrice, is fascinating already, i can't wait to see where it goes!

@all-the-way-down-here - This Is Why We Fight (Dieter x nb!oc!Bell)

i love the start of this. both dieter and bell have excellent characterization and the conversations being had by every character feel so real and are so important. bell's group of friends all sound like friends i would have, and i would love to hang out with them. i love the direction this is going!

@linzels-blog - Delta Palms Tropical Resort (Frankie x f!reader)

ahh what a delightful little fic! it feels very much like an early 2000s rom com and i mean that in the best way! very cute and i love the vibes. everyone's characterization is great and i can't wait to sink my teeth into the rest of it!

@elvenmother - Context and Perspective (Marcus M x f!reader)

completely obsessed with this concept. i love a good enemies to lovers and this is such an awesome way to do it! i always see marcus m fics featuring someone without superpowers, but to have a character that's just as powerful as him? sign me up!

@kedsandtubesocks - In the Dead of the Night (Din x f!reader)

one of my absolute favorite din fics. the worldbuilding and din's creature form is incredible. i love a horror au that's flipped on its head. i also love the "creature is also the hunter" trope and this does that incredibly well. the atmosphere is off the charts.

@ghostofaboy - Rock Bottom (Frankie x original male characters)

god, i don't even know where to begin with this story. it's so raw and visceral and i can't say enough how much i enjoy it. i love reading something new and especially if it's coming from a male perspective. this is, unfortunately, something i could see frankie getting up to. frankie is such a deeply tragic character and this fic does that justice in a dark, but really intriguing way.

@ishabull - The Way We Were Drawn (Marcus P x f!reader)

ohh this is such a sweet fic. i love the imagery painted and the dynamic between marcus and reader is so sweet!

@secretelephanttattoo - Headshots (Marcus P x f!reader)

this fic is beyond sweet and so dreamy. the ideal scenario for anyone, in my humble opinion. who wouldn't want to take pictures of handsome fbi agents and then fall in love with said agent?

@lesbianhotch - you walk by and i fall to pieces (Frankie x f!reader)

THIS WAS THE CUTEST DAMN THING. i love me a nervous frankie (hello, have you read my fic lmao) and this was by far one of the cutest. i'm obsessed with reader's confidence and i just know those two are gonna be menaces once they're together. throw in some patsy cline and i am a goner. this is going on the reread list for sure.

@insomniamamma - Remain Nameless (Ezra & Cee w/ gn!reader)

ok, this one actually made me cry. i'm not sure if it's my own sleep-deprived ass that caused it but this is probably one of the most beautiful but sad fics i've read in a long time. i mean all of this in the best way because i don't normally get emotional from fics. prospect as a movie makes me emotional, though, so it doesn't surprise me that this did as well. it's such an incredible missing scene that i can, unfortunately, see absolutely happening. have some tissues nearby.

@sweetercalypso - Unlikely Friends (Joel x gn!reader)

this fic is one of my absolute favorite fics for joel. a big reason for that is i have a cat named tilly. and imagining joel reluctantly and grumpily cuddling with my tilly makes me emotional, ok??

@softstarlite - The Casualty of Love (Javi P x f!reader)

very cute! i love the awkward tension around not seeing someone for so long and there being a huge glow up maturity-wise from one of them! seeing someone in a new light is always a strange thing and i love the start to these two and their journey!

@julesonrecord - Shots (Jack x f!reader/oc)

probably one of the best post-movie fics i've ever read for jack. the way jack's trauma and therapy is handled is so fucking brilliant and tonic is one of the best fucking characters, god. eva is written so well and i just. i can't recommend this fic enough. if you like jack, hell even if you don't, give this fic a shot. i promise you'll come out of it liking it.

@coulsons-fullmetal-cellist - The Audition (Dieter x f!reader)

goddd this was so cute! dieter's insecurities don't come up very often and i absolutely love what a match he and reader make. she's so sweet with him and takes such good care of him. and he loves her so much and i love them ok

@max--phillips - A Little Lipstick Never Hurts (Max P x f!reader)

this is one of the best explorations into kink that i've ever read. it's so respectful and hot as fuck. completely obsessed with this take on max as a character and i can't get enough of the dynamic between him, reader, (and eventually dieter). it may not be everyone's cup of tea, but i highly encourage you to give it a try. max gets some well deserved lessons taught, and who doesn't love that?

@coastielaceispunk - The Gift of Lingerie (Max L x f!reader)

god, this was so fucking hot. i'm so here for a mentally healed maxwell in a healthy marriage with a fulfilling sex life lol the little bit of teasing on both their parts was beyond sexy and i loved how equal everything felt. ugh, will be rereading this one for sure.

@lotrefcp - Hidden Away (Javi P x f!reader)

i'm obsessed with a no nonsense reader with just as much attitude/sass as javi does lol i just kept reading going GET HIS ASS. an excellent start to a universe i'm excited to sink my teeth into!

@beefrobeefcal - On the Waterfront (Frankie x f!reader)

oh, this is dark. i love the vibes immediately. i've had a weird fascination with the mafia for most of my life and this has that air about it. a dark, chubby mob boss!frankie is right up my alley for sure. i love that he's still frankie tho. sensible, practical, but with an edge. mind the warnings.

@flightlessangelwings - La Estrella de Mi Vida (Javi G x f!reader)

ahhh so romantic and so tragic!! i swear, it's impossible to make javi unappealing but this fic is just so sweet and manages to make me love him even more (somehow). but i love the added drama and tension from outside forces!! i need to read the rest of it asap!

@littlemisspascal - Rockford & Roan (Tim x f!reader)

my god, i love this?? i'm not usually one for superpowers/soulmate au's but i'm in love with the practicality of this? it feels otherworldly without being too much and it's very grounded. i love the reader and the way tim is written is so believable. i love that we as a fandom have created such a visceral image of this character from only a minute's worth of footage!

@something-tofightfor & @the-blind-assassin-12 - Aphelion (Oberyn x Ellaria & f!reader)

goddd the imagery painted in this one. so heartbreaking. absolutely breathtaking. i'm a slut for vampires and i'm a slut for oberyn/ellaria. this is absolutely something i will be reading the rest of lol

@bluestar22x - The Rockford Files (Tim x f!reader)

ok this is insanely good. one of my favorite books of all time is "red dragon" by thomas harris and i felt like i was reading that again while i read this. the details of the case and the cadence of everything was top notch. obsessed with the psychic element thrown in there and i'm beyond excited to see where tim and psy end up next!

bonus:

@sweetenerobert - Fiction vs Reality (Tommy Miller x m!reader)

ohhhh my god. you give me a bisexual tattoo artist tommy miller with stretched ears and i'm supposed to be normal about it??? UNLIKELY. i am extremely tempted to edit this into reality ngl but my god. this was so fucking hot lmao

153 notes · View notes

yearofcreation2023 · 1 year ago

Text

Year of Themed Creations: October 2023 Collection (in progress)

WORDS:

A Different Way of Life by @ghostofskywalker - Year of Flowers A princess desperate to get away from the throne you're expected to inherit, you struck a deal with a passing bounty hunter. Originally all you want was to hide away somewhere, but you fall in love with both Fennec and the way she lives. (Fennec Shand/Fem!Reader)

Bounty and Hunter by @never--doubt - Year of Soulmates She's the one bounty he's never been able to catch, the one that's always gotten away. Until now. But when they both realize that they can't harm each other because they're soulmates…what will they do? (Din Djarin x Female!Reader)

Quiet Moment by the Fire by @keldabe-kriff - Year of Small Joys This involves Din and an original character I have only hinted at thus far - all you need to know for now is she is a member of Din's covert. Part of a bigger story I started with a friend and have been working on since sometime in 2020. No pairing in this particular story, just Kestrel and Din and Grogu having an evening by the fire. (Din Djarin and friends)

My Knight in White by @flightlessangelwings - Year of Protectiveness Dialogue prompt- “ that was for saving my life. “ Action prompt- [ KISS ]: after having been saved from immediate danger by the receiver, the sender, in a state of intense emotion and relief, kisses them to express these feelings. (Marc Spector x fem!reader)

Like a Damn Disney Prince by @captainsophiestark - Year of Olympians Elijah asks the girl of his dreams to accompany him to the Mikaelson ball. (Elijah Mikaelson x Reader)

Threefold by @insomniamamma - Year of Kisses The prompt for this fic is “Kiss as a lie.” This does not connect to any of my other Prospect fics, even though some terms may overlap. Enemies to reluctant allies. Reader is disabled and relies on body mods to assist her breathing. (Ezra x F!reader w/Cee)

#year of themed creation #october

0 notes

fandom-blackhole · 4 years ago

Text

Sinful Sunday!!!!

AN: Soooo sorry I've been MIA this week. I don't know whats gotten to me but motivation has been L O W this past week, but I should be back soon, I have some work stuff to finish. BUT, when I do come back, it will be with a nice one-shot (small hint, its for a certain merman featured in another set of sinful sunday thots) and then I'll get to the THOTs piled in my inbox....

Sinful Sunday Masterlist

Pairings: Ezra (Prospect) x Reader, Din Djarin x Reader x Paz Vizsla, Modern!Captain Rex x Reader

• So the idea is Ezra x reader + Zombie Apocalypse AU, but considering its me, it'll be more like a Last of Us AU, of sorts

Ezra (Prospect) x Reader

So I wouldn't say this is really a THOT, its more or less just a concept I wanted to share. If you guys like it let me know and I might make it into a short series....

• Cee would definitely be in this one, unlike my other Ezra series (Hayloft)

• I imagine Ezra to be a hunter, someone who purposely attacks people and steals their supplies, but he himself tries to avoid killing, though the rest of his small group does not

• Ezra meets Cee, when he is the one being used as bait and he's acting like he's injured while his team members wait to ambush Cee and her father

• A big fight breaks out and Cee’s father is killed along with two of the hunters and Cee is bound and taken to the hideout

• Ezra keeps trying to talk and negotiate with his group to let Cee go because she is just a girl, but he ends up being threatened and told to shut up

• So on his early morning watch, he packs a big bag and steals alot of the supplies, before going to Cee and taking off with her

• The two barely reach the city limits before the hunters catch up, and a fire fight ensues, which also draws in a small group of zombies/infected

• In the skirmish, Ezra and Cee management to fight off all zombie/infected and hunters, BUT Ezra does get a small bite on his arm

• Cee cuts it off for him right there, and they go build a small fire just enough to cauterize it, before moving so they don't attract more attention

• Where are they headed? Well, Ezra happens to know a sweet little peach(reader) who owns a bartering house a few towns over, a place that is neutral ground for everyone, and they own him a small favor

At this point you aren't even sure how you had gotten into this situation, but maker you wouldn't trade it for anything in the galaxy. The situation? You were currently sandwiched between two of the fiercest mandalorian warriors you knew. All you could feel, smell, or think about was them and how absolutely FULL you felt. You can't even think straight too overwhelmed with pleasure, your head too full of the whines and rambles of the man below you and the loud grunts and groans of the man on top of you.

Din Djarin x Reader x Paz Vizsla

First off thank you, @joculatrices for letting me talk about this THOT with you. I was pretty hesitant to post this one, but it has been haunting me for weeks, and while I don't think Paz nor Din would be into sharing all that much, the THOT of them both having their way with me, well it has me overheating.....

You held both Din Djarin and Paz Vizsla close to your heart, but you had never even imagined that you would be with them like this, blindfolded as they both filled you. You never imagined that you'd be here laying ontop of Din, with his twitching cock nestled deep inside your ass, as Paz held your legs as wide as possible and pounded into you pussy like there was no tomorrow. Paz reached down at some point and wrapped his thick fingers around your neck as Din bit into your shoulder trying to quiet himself just a little. It was almost too much feeling the slide of Paz’s thick cock in and out of you, and along the thin wall that separated him from Din's own cock. You were wetter than you had ever been in the past, and hearing each squelch-y thrust from Paz drove you crazy. You could feel yourself dripping down to where you were combined with Din, who was twitching and giving out breathy moans from the stimulation he was receiving with each rough thrust from Paz.

The pleasure was so good, and overwhelming and you didn't want it to end but you could feel yourself about to snap. Din was mumbling something you couldn't make out as he reached around and squeezes your breasts and started circling your nipples. That small added pleasure is all you needed to be launched over the edge into the abyss, and you came harder than you ever had before. You heard Din curse loudly as you tightened up around him and he gave a small thrust before groaning your name and cumming deep inside of you. It didn't take long for Paz to follow, as he gave you three earth shattering, hard thrusts while praising how good you been and then he buried himself as deep as possible and unloaded everything he had inside of you. And as you came back down after that orgasm you knew, you were never gonna be the same after this.

You swore angrily as you all but ran to your next class. Not only had your last professor kept the whole class from leaving because HE was late, but the campus was teeming with soldiers and military personnel using the university campus as a short cut to get to the base stationed next door. You were beyond frustrated, most of the men blocking your path had been rude and tried pulling rank on you when you all but ran passed them, and you had probably given a few too many middle fingers to the assholes, but you could find it in yourself to care.

Modern!Captain Rex x Reader

Ok so after all that FILTH, here is a cute little THOT of how you meet modern au Captain Rex.....

Then one of the grabbed your arm right as you were about to reach the building your class was in and you saw red. You couldn't even hear what he was saying, and you ripped your arm away from him, and in a loe voice, most certainly interrupting his rant, you said, "Do not touch me, or I will make sure you meet your maker sooner than you are supposed to."

You saw his jaw clench and his face turn into a snarl as he spit back, "Do you know who you are talking to?"

As he spoke he rose his finger sticking it in your face. The anger of knowing that you were late to class and your professor had most certainly closed and locked the classroom door at this point, and from the fact that the man infrastructure of you thought he could walk all over you boiled over. In a split second, as he was still shoving his finger in your face and raising his voice, you whipped your hand up, grabbed his finger tightly, and smashed it back until you heard a satisfying crackl. With a smirk, you made eye contact with the now shocked and angered man and said, "That is for making me late to class, would you like for me to continue or are you going to walk away?"

The man puffed up his chest and rose his other hand to slap you but, an arm shot out from behind you, and a deep voice rumbled out, "That is enough, Private Connors, get yourself back to the barracks, your free time has bee revoked and you are being put on bathroom duty for threatening a civilian. Your tooth brush better be ready when I get back to the barracks myself."

"Yes, Captain...."

As the man walked away dejected, the other man, whose deep and ordering voice went straight to your belly, came around and gave you a soft smile as he ran a hand through his buzzed, blond hair.

"I am sorry for the way the Private Connors treated you, and I think the broken finger you gave him wasn't even close to the punishment he deserves for that attitude," you blushed and looked down, before smiling up at the now shy Captain. He stuck his hand out saying, "Captain Rex of the 501st, if there is anyway I can make it up to you, please let me know."

Shaking his hand you introduced yourself and mumbled out, "Well since he made me late to class, my afternoon just freed up, so...um... if you aren't busy, there is this nice Cafe two or so blocks from here?"

#sinful sunday #ezra prospect x reader #ezra x reader #din djarin x reader x paz vizsla #din x reader x paz #din djarin x reader #din x reader #paz vizsla x reader #paz x reader #captain rex x reader #rex x reader

65 notes · View notes

insomniamamma · 1 year ago

Note

@sp00kymulderr thank you for tagging me!!!! I love your writing so much ❤️ You are one of the very first people i interacted with in this fandom and it is wonderful to see you back.

Anyways, this was kind of hard. I tried to balance the fluff and the smut and the angst. As for my favorite fic i've written? Honestly it changes. These are what jumped out at me tonight.

Late Bloomers: Ezra x f!reader /w Cee This is part of the Liminal AU, an modern? Contemporary? Prospect AU. Ezra is Cee's legal guardian and the reader's hot neighbor.

Song of the Wrong Response : Din Djarin x gn!reader Part of the Atin'ika AU but can stand alone. This takes place after S2.

Maze: Frankie Morales x f!reader soft little Halloween fic, part of the Changes AU, but it's not necessary to read that one first. Reader is childhood friends with the Millers and has moved back home after a disastrous relationship.

Ephemera: Nico (House Comes With a Bird) x f!reader This oddball with like five lines intrigued me, okay? Age gap because I wanted to play with the power dynamics of age and class. Also this is hate mail to northern San Diego county, a move that went horribly wrong.

Glory: Ezra x f!reader w/Cee smut adjacent I guess? Part of my Prickle'verse AU. Jumps back and forth in time. New love and old love that's still strong.

no pressure tags: @oonajaeadira @grogusmum @honestly-shite @artemiseamoon @fromthedeskoftheraven @jessahmewren and anyone else who wants to jump in!

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love ❤

Ohhh this is fun! Thanks for making my Monday morning, anon! 🤍

(even though this is like picking favorite children 🫢 so these have and will change in order over time)

Recovery Road (dieter bravo x f!reader) - one of my more thoughtful pieces, it feels like a culmination of many years of reading and writing for fandom. can't believe its gonna be over soon 😭

Just One More Thing (javier peña x f!reader) - an on-going series where I dump all my 70s criminal vibes into one character who is hopelessly in love with Javier Peña. I tend to be overly angsty in my head, so the humor in this is a nice change of pace.

i am touchin', i am grabbin', everything I can't be havin' (dieter bravo x f!reader) - first fic i wrote for the ppcu and despite its length, it remains one of my favorites!

the hush of the very good (Midnight Mass) - where i got to trauma dump my southern catholic ptsd into a fic about fucking a vampire priest into redemption

a brief, fragmentary, and most imperfect record of specters few have seen (Magic in the Moonlight) - the 1920s medium fic my heart always wanted.

gentle and loving reminder that if you followed me for Pedro Pascal blorbo fic, I've moved all of that content to @chronically-ghosted and will be posting new fic only there!

Now for my favorite part, tagging some amazing writers!

@trulybetty @avastrasposts @sp00kymulderr @morallyinept @mrsquill @theywhowriteandknowthings @pr0ximamidnight @suzdin @iamskyereads @astarkey @julesonrecord

(that's more than five but i want to shower you all with praise!)

#self rec tag game #fic rec #ezra x f!reader #din djarin x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #nico (house comes with a bird) x f!reader #atin'ika AU #liminal AU #changes AU #Ephemera AU #prickle'verse

66 notes · View notes

writer-darling · 3 years ago

Text

Northern Lights: ⤝ Part 3 ⤞

⤝ Previous Chapter ⤞

Rating: PG-13 (13+)

Pairing: Ezra (Prospect, 2018) x F!Reader

Warnings: None that I could find, but if there are any that I missed, please inbox me to let me know and I will add them in (:

Word Count: 6k

Summary!: After you are updated on Ezra's current state, you finally reveal one of the contents of the journal you keep so close to you. This brings a new memory and stirs up those new feelings you have for the man.

******

A couple of days later, the nurse confirms that they’ve taken Ezra out of the coma now.

“We don’t know when he will regain consciousness, but we will keep monitoring him and let you know if anything happens.” She’s a tiny thing, humanoid in appearance, save for the snakeskin pattern of her body; a gradient of greens, purples, and pinks. Her hair, which resembles the various shades of an oil slick, is pulled up into a tight bun. Despite the initial impression she gives off with the stern set of her mouth, she’s very kind. She monitors Ezra well and always offers you food any time it’s getting late. Zeeva’s her name. You’ve just come into the room, freshly showered along with Cee as you both had packs with overnight supplies. You planned to stay, as today has been a particularly rough day for you. Your anxiety about Ezra’s situation has been spiking since the night before, and you do not want to stew in it at home.

“Thank you, Zeeva.” You say as you take a seat in the cushioned chair on Ezra’s left side. Cee follows suit, doing the same and pulling her knees up to her chest next to you. She had revealed the content of the two packs you had seen her with upon their arrival a few days after agreeing to stay at your pod complex. You couldn’t help the rush of pride you had felt. Stars, he had done it. He had found the Queen’s Lair. Neither one of you had touched either treasure, instead choosing to shove both packs full of aurelac into a closet in your room. You would wait until Ezra woke up and decide what to do then; they were his earnings after all. After some time, Cee has fallen asleep, taking a nap in the seat near the window of the pod, with her blue and gold headphones placed over her ears. You’ve been journaling when you come across your poem again. You glance up at Ezra for a moment. He’s still, for now. His hair is longer than you’ve ever seen it, with beautiful chestnut and caramel curls that you imagine feel like silk. His facial hair has grown out a bit as well, and you have a feeling he’ll want to trim it all as soon as possible. You look to make sure Cee is asleep, before taking a deep breath and reading your poem aloud:

“Man with the mahogany eyes and a golden heart

Why have you gone?

Try as I might, my mind always orbits back to you

A solace planet that is pulled by your gravity.

Your voice rings in my head, bringing me the comfort

I crave from you on my darkest days

Your smile encompasses my memory

Following me into the deepest recesses of my dreams

I long for the moment we are together again

This time, I swear I won’t let go

Never been a liar, I'm a lilac and you are my sun

And every season I need you to come back…”

As you flip through another page, you find the journal entry from the day you met Ezra, this time unaccompanied, on the Green. You smile as your mind replays the memory.

3 ½ Years Ago:

You’d been trekking across a field of wildflowers as you tried to look for the newest dig site. The map in your hands was useless to you. Navigation had never been your strong suit. You had trekked well so far, but these clearings all looked the same to you. You had cursed to yourself as you looked around at the lavish, green jungle surrounding you. Your air filter saturation was now falling into the red zone and you could feel the burning in your lungs from the toxic spores. You set your pack down on the floor of the field, taking a moment to catch what breath you could. At least the flowers were a nice sight. You figured your best bet was to just see if there was anyone around who could help you out. You turned on your internal radio, and began to speak,

“Hello, is there anyone in close range? I'm in need of some assistance. I lost my way and could use a helping hand. I-I need a new air filter and maybe some clean water. If there’s anyone nearby, please, I have plenty to trade.” You closed your eyes for a moment, feeling nauseous.

“Greetings and salutations!” You looked up as the familiar accent was heard both in and outside of your helmet. From across the field, you spotted the patchwork of olive green and the man inside it. He smiled at you, and you could see the fond recognition in his eyes.

“Ezra??” He nodded and rushed over as you had tried to stand, but failed, suddenly coughing up a storm.

“Woah, slow down a beat there. I’ve got you. I was just cooking up some food for dinner, and came looking for some herbs.” He said, helping you to your feet. You’re still coughing and his eyes rushed over you in concern. You saw as he checked his filter, but it was dipping into the red zone as well. You knew it wouldn’t be enough for you both. He had cursed under his breath and looked around for a moment, thinking, before meeting your eyes again. “Can you walk?” He asked. You had nodded, determined to try. He had grabbed your pack, slinging it over his shoulder. “Well, my ship is only a few yards away. Hold onto me.” You complied, your breath coming out in short, desperate pants. The walk to his ship had seemed to take hours, with your breathing only becoming rougher with every other step. Once you had reached the ship, he had taken you inside. You had collapsed on the floor, your pack falling down beside you, as he had quickly shut the hatch. Your lungs were begging for something, anything clean. Water, air. Anything that wasn’t covered in those malignant spores. You had barely felt as Ezra pulled your helmet off, then stepped back. The cold, fresh air of the ship hit your sweaty face and filled your lungs. You had taken in gulps full, coughing in between. He had placed himself in front of you, making you meet his gaze. You forced yourself to focus on his deep brown eyes, anything to distract you from the pain in your upper chest.

“It’s alright now. Breathe, breathe deeply with me.” He had inhaled and you tried to follow his lead, doing the same. Nausea slowly subsided with every new breath you took, as did the coughing and gasping. When your breathing finally relaxed, he had smiled at you. “Better?” You had nodded in response, your voice a little hoarse,

“Much.” You cleared your throat. He had walked over to his pack, pulling out a canteen. He handed it to you silently, and you took it without hesitation, bringing it to your lips. The cool water was a welcome relief to your throat, and you drank up the liquid greedily. Meanwhile, he watched you, his eyes still holding some worry. Once you had finished the entire bottle, you had set it aside, leaning your head against the wall of the pod, trying to catch your breath again. “Thank you.” You finally said.

“We gotta get some food in you; need to get your energy back. Wait here a moment, I shall return shortly.” He had said. He grabbed a few things from one of the cabinets in the ship, exiting it quietly. As you tried to further relax, you had taken a glance around. His ship had been pretty spacious, maybe about 30 feet. The white walls had maps taped to them, writings in red ink on some. A cot was in the corner, and under it were stacks of books that were all tied together in bundles with twine. The pilot and co-pilot seats were empty, save for the backs of them that had jackets hanging off the back. You wondered where his partner was, and silently hoped it wasn’t Oruf again. You heard the hatch opening, and he stepped through it a moment later, a small black cauldron with a lid in his gloved hands. The smell of the food was making your mouth water and your stomach grumbled quietly.“I went fishin’ earlier today after my dig. Managed to snag a couple of arachora. I hope you’re not allergic.” He said, setting the cauldron on the small table next to his cot. He then removed his helmet, sighing.

“Thankfully no.” You replied and tried to stand up. He had rushed over again, grabbing your arm to support you.

“Here, sit on the cot, the books will keep you steady.” He had said, leading you. Once you were seated, he had gone back to the cabinet and grabbed two wooden bowls. He poured the contents of the cauldron, and you now saw that it was a stew, with chunks of the arachora meat. He handed you one of the bowls and you thanked him, the heat of the bowl warming up your hands. “Do you mind if I sit beside you?” He had asked, his own bowl in his hand. You shook your head, making some room. You both ate plenty, and you found the silence between you both oddly comfortable. You didn’t feel the need to fill the space with unnecessary chatter and neither did he. The food had been another welcome relief. The stew was salty, and just a little spicy, warming your chest. Meanwhile, the meat was cooked to perfection, as soft as butter. When you finished, he had grabbed both bowls, setting them aside.

“That was really good. Thank you.” You had said. He had smiled.

“Old recipe I picked up some years ago. Would you like some more?” He had asked. You shook your head.

“I’m stuffed enough, thanks.” You replied.

“I don’t mean to pry and feel free to disregard this if you feel that I am overstepping any boundaries but… where is your better half?” He had asked. You had resisted rolling your eyes at that last bit.

“Long gone. Back in Zatera, I imagine.” You had replied. “We broke up a while ago. I came here because I heard there was some good work.”

“Alone?” He had asked. You nodded.

“Pretty stupid idea, in retrospect.” You had mumbled. He had shaken his head.

“Not at all, plenty of prospectors come here unaccompanied. But, if you’re not familiar with this terrain, it can be difficult.”

“Are you familiar with it?” You had asked. He had nodded, running a gloved hand through his hair.

“I have trespassed through here more than once.”

“Your partner must be lucky then.” At that, he had looked away, down at his hands.

“Actually… I find myself solus as well at this present time. My partner,” he spits that last word as if it leaves a bad taste in his mouth, his lips turning down into a scowl full of contempt. “for this dig thought it would be a good idea to try and steal my entire harvest. Words and metal then promptly flew, and I taught them what a mistake that was.” You didn’t ask him to elaborate; his tone had been clear enough. You knew that a prospector’s work was no small feat, and it was only fair that he should defend what he had likely spent days working for. He hesitated for a moment before continuing. “I would be open to collaborating with you since you’re new to the territory.

“You barely know me.” You had said. “What makes you think I wouldn’t try to steal your goods as well?” He smirked now as he met your eyes.

“I am sure you are capable, save for one glaring slip… you stated yourself in your signal that you were lost and in need of assistance. You don’t seem like the kind to stoop so low for a pay grade. In addition to the fact that a spore fit is no easy thing to fake, thus I have a feeling that I am the one with the upper hand.” You had both laughed at that and you nodded.

“Touché.” You smirked back, thinking it over. You knew you could always just learn how to survive here on your own. But, he seemed like a good ally to have. At the very least, a good teacher to show you the reins. “Ok, sure.” He had extended his hand to you then, and you smiled as you slipped your hand in his, shaking it.

“Well… my sanctum sanctorum is your sanctum sanctorum then.” You thanked him again and suddenly felt the stew getting to you, making you feel a little sluggish.

“Do you happen to have a washroom?” You had asked. He nodded, pointing the way.

“Got any extra clothing?” He asked. You shook your head, disappointed but he smiled reassuringly. “No worries, I’ve got some sleepwear I could lend you.” You smiled at him in gratitude as he stood up, reaching under his cot. The two pieces of clothing he handed you were breathable, cotton fabric. You stood up then, making your way to the cabinet. You took your time in the shower, relaxing as you washed the grime and sweat away. You brought in your suit, rinsing it and washing away the dirt from it as well. It was water-resistant, so you knew it would be dried off by the morning. Once your shower was done, you had changed into the clothes. They smelled freshly washed, with just the subtlest hint of his scent clinging to the fabric. It was woodsy, rich. It came off as sweet at first, but it also had a hint of spice in there that lingered. It’s actually a really good smell. You laughed internally, chastising yourself for psychoanalyzing a scent like a weirdo. You stepped out of the cabinet then, dirty clothes folded into small bundles that you could shove into your pack. Your suit was hanging on one of the pegs in the shower. Ezra had turned to look at you then, stepping back as you saw that he had set up another cot opposite to his.

“I hope this is to your liking. I know it’s not much, but it was the best I had.” He had said. There on the cot was your pack, along with a pillow and a simple blanket. You had smiled, nodding.

“It’s perfect. I washed my suit already and left it in the washroom, if that’s alright?” You asked. He had nodded in response.

“I imagine you must be exhausted. Feel free to make yourself at home. I’m going to wash myself up as well.” With that, he had gone. You sat on the cot and took a moment to yourself, silently thanking the stars that at least for tonight, you were safe. You laid down as you heard the water startup. You tried for a few minutes to sleep, but the shower had done the contrary to its desired effect, reinvigorating you with energy. After a few frustrating stirs, you sat up again and grabbed your pack, pulling out the journal your ex had purchased at Central, minutes before take-off on your first prospecting trip. It was a simple, brown thing. But you loved it just the same, much to your chagrin. You began to journal, letting your mind recount the day's events for a couple of pages. Out of the corner of your eye, you had seen Ezra come out of the shower now, wearing a sleeveless white shirt. He had looked at you as you sat on the cot, knees supporting the journal as you wrote.

“Not much of a sleeper?” He had asked. You had shrugged.

“More of a night person. I like the quiet.” You replied. He had nodded, laying down across from you.

“Is it alright if I sleep facing you? My back is not what it once used to be; I usually wake up in a better mood this way.” He had said. You nodded, glancing up at him.

“Of course. It’s no problem.” He had smiled and nodded back.

“Good night.” He had said. “I’ll see you in the morning I hope.” You smiled at him in return.

“Good night, Ezra.”

The next morning, his alarm had awoken you with a start. You freaked out for a minute as you failed to recognize your surroundings before it all came rushing back to you. You sat up and turned to see Ezra already dressed, changing his air filter.

“Good mornin’, sweetheart.” He had said, his tone way too chipper for the time of day in your opinion. You begrudgingly returned his good morning and got up, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. “Guessin’ you’re not a morning person. Huh?” He had said teasingly as you stretched your arms over your head. You saw him glance at the skin that revealed itself when you did so and tried not to make it obvious that he had.

“Not at all.” You had replied as you set your arms down. He chuckled and nodded.

“Well, I can always go out on the dig myself if you’d like to catch some shut-eye?” He had said. You rolled your eyes at him, smirking, and shook your head.

“And let you have all the fun? No way.”

Out on the dig, the other teams of prospectors were already harvesting as you and Ezra arrived. The two grids you had claimed individually were now going to be for you both, and Ezra communicated that to the other prospectors. As you set your stuff down in your area, Ezra suddenly spoke.

“Now, I must admit, harvesting has never been my strong suit. But I have managed to get a few treasures so far. How well do you know your way around the aurelac?” He asked you. You had smirked.

“Bring me the kit and water and let’s find out.” He had done as told and you found a good starting spot: a root that seemed to contain more than one gem from the size of it. You opened up the kit, making sure all of the tools were there. Ezra cut into the root, as you prepared the acid for the extraction and the fazer solution in the squeeze first, with water from the canteen beside you. He grabbed the acid, pouring it into the root, and it had released a bit of vapor along with a hissing sound. He had opened it up enough to stick his hand inside. He grabbed the husk, pulling it out of the root. Once that was done, he offered you the cord to cut. You grabbed the extraction knife and made one smooth movement, cutting the cord in half. You took the husk from him, setting it down on the extraction mat in front of you. He had settled in beside you as you worked and you smiled to yourself. Now was your time to shine. You made a careful incision in the husk, being extra careful not to puncture the crystal’s inner membrane before removing the seed vessel containing the aurelac from inside it. Ezra silently set all the bottles of solution, water, and acid in front of you before tossing the now useless husk aside, watching the process carefully. Next, you applied the water to the mat and the vessel, trying to keep it as clean as possible. After that, came the next incision on the inner membrane, revealing the blister. This part was a worrisome bit. You had seen the damage carrom acid could do, but you knew you just had to be patient and confident. The incision here was a careful “c” shape that would be deep enough to open the blister, but not so deep that it would scratch the gem. A damaged gem was worth nothing. As you pulled a piece of the blister away, you could feel Ezra’s eyes on your every move. For whatever reason, that did make you a little nervous but you did your best to ignore it. Once the gem was carefully removed from the skin of the blister, you set it in the metal pan, grabbing the fazer solution and pouring it over the gem. More hissing was heard as the outer mucus coating of the gem was melted away, before revealing a perfectly clear crystal with an amber center that glistened in the sunlight. You held it up to Ezra, who admired it, impressed with your skill.

“Perfection. You truly have a gift for this business.” He had said, beaming at you. The rest of the dig was relatively successful, save for a few empty roots here and there. Once you got into the swing of things, both you and Ezra chatted privately to one another through your radio signals. He was still as conversational as you remember and you found yourself having a fun time with his stream of talking. He was funny, charming, and could still tell a great story. The shift actually felt much shorter with him around, and you found yourself glad to have taken up his offer of partnership. Once your break at the sun’s peak came around, everyone made the trek back to their campsites for a good rest and to bring the treasures you had dug up so far back to your tents. You and Ezra decided on just eating bit bars, wanting to save your appetites for dinner.

“So,” he asked, handing you a bar and propping down beside you. “How did you end up in the prospectin’ game?” You ripped open the red packaging and dug in, the granola and dehydrated fruit leaving a slight metallic taste on your tongue.

“Boyfriend. He convinced me to join him in the digs. I was studying to be an accountant and pretty much left it because I realized it didn’t make me happy. This, the traveling and the prospecting surprisingly do, most of the time anyway.”

“You’ve never wanted to leave then?” He asked, opening his own bar up.

“Oh sure,” You said, nodding. “Many times. I just… don’t know what I would do otherwise.”

“Go back to accountin’?” He offered, smirking at you. You let out a huff through your nose.

“I would rather face the Saters than sit through another one of those classes.” He had laughed, a full-bellied sound that warmed you up more than the stew from the night before. “What about you?” You asked, taking a swig of your water. “How did you end up here?”

“I’ve been part of Fringeling crews since I was 19. My parents had a mom-and-pop shop, and I worked there for a while but I wanted something a little more… thrillin’” He raised his eyebrows, and you nodded with a knowing smile.

“Restless soul, were we?” You asked, and the flush returned to his cheeks. He scratched the back of his neck, bashful.

“You could say that, certainly. Eventually, I got caught up in the whirlwind of it all. Couldn’t help myself, I suppose.” He had said. “I felt like I was the epitome of rebellion; goin' against what everyone else expected of me… turns out I was just a naive sucker who didn’t know what he wanted out of life.” His tone turned sour and he frowned, looking down at his hands. You take a moment to let the heavy emotion hang in the air, before speaking again,

“And now? Have you ever wanted to leave?” You asked and he nodded, drinking his water before answering.

“Kevva, yes.” He said, his expression light once more and you laughed softly at his tone of voice.

“And do what?” You asked, finishing up your bar. He shrugged the shoulder closest to you. You smiled as it brushed up against yours with the movement.

“My mother always said I had the soul of a poet.” He said and you found yourself nodding along with the sentiment.

“She’s right. If your flowery turn of phrase is anything to go by.” He looked over at you and leaned in close, smirking.

“Just between you and me?” He said, his voice lowering a bit, as if it’s not just you two in your pod. You followed along, raised an eyebrow in curiosity, and leaned in a little as well. You suddenly noticed the truly lovely shade of his mahogany eyes, and noticed the amber specks throughout, giving a warmth to the color that made you a little dizzy. “I just like to be pretentious.” He grinned at you as you laughed at his words. Before you could continue your conversation, you heard the alarms in your radios going off. Ezra sighed and stood up, offering you a hand. “Shall we?” You smiled and slipped your palm in his, standing up as well.

“Let’s.”

The rest of the dig was uneventful but successful, and you were glad no one was trying to start any trouble. As everyone began packing up for the day, you turned to Ezra, who was putting away the last of the gems in your trophy case.

“Ez, do you mind if we try to track down my ship? I can contact Central and let them know I’m staying with you now so they can send someone to take it back to Zatera in the sling-back.” He had nodded and you handed him the map.

He walked in clear confidence, showing you that he did indeed know the terrain better than you did. When you two finally arrived at your ship, you were grateful to find your belongings whole, just as you had left them. You stored them away in another pack. Then, you turned on the external modulator, and left a message for Central, letting them know your prospecting identification number, your ship’s number, and your current situation. The ship would remain untouched - you hoped at least - until the sling-back.. When you exited the ship, Ezra was waiting, leaning against the side. He smiled and reached for the extra pack, but you shook your head.

“I’ve got it; I know you’re probably tired.” He had shaken his head in response too, grabbing it anyway.

“Nonsense, sweetheart.” You had beamed at the term, despite yourself.

When you both got in, he showered first this time. Meanwhile, you organized your things. You put your clean clothing under your cot, along with the couple of belongings you had. Nothing too fancy; just a few books, some random knick-knacks, and your field kit. Ezra emerged from the shower a few minutes later. He smiled at the setup you had created, and took a seat on his cot, grabbing the paperback that was next to his pillow.

“I’ll make dinner tonight, as repayment for yesterday. Wait for me?” You had asked. He nodded before turning his attention to the pages before him. You grabbed your clothing and dashed into the shower. Now that you felt more at ease than the night before, you let the hot water seep into your bones, washing away the tiredness of the day. When you were done, you grabbed your clothes. It was a sleepwear set you always carried to any trip since it was light. The baggy, sleeveless shirt and short shorts were a welcome familiarity and you knew you could finally relax. You quickly braided your hair, leaving a few stray pieces framing your face. In the pocket of your shorts, your fingers brushed a small, cylinder item. You pulled it out and saw that it was a tinted lip balm you thought you had lost ages ago. You debated on it for a moment but decided to just use it. It turned your lips a slight cherry red and you couldn’t help smiling at your image in the small washroom mirror. The worry that crinkled your brow was gone and you felt lighter, happier than you had before encountering Ezra. When you emerged from the shower, he looked up from his book, and you noticed the clear glasses he now had on. His eyes practically bugged out of their sockets when he saw you and his gaze suddenly had you feeling both freezing cold and burning hot at the same time.

“Well… aren’t you as pretty as a starflower?” He suddenly said, his voice a low drawl, and you felt your face flush as his eyes raked over your form. That term had you raising an eyebrow at him, smirking despite your warm cheeks.

“Starflower, huh?” You had said. He had nodded, clearing his throat and tearing his gaze away from you, his own face now flushed as well.

“I uh, brought out the leftover arachora meat, if you’re alright with that?” He said while you could see that he was making an effort not to look at you - and failing.

“Absolutely.” You said, following his lead of changing the subject. You grabbed the meat and cooked it over the electrical hot plate you had in your pack. Thankfully, there was enough for both of you. You also brought out some of the bit bars you still had and refilled the two canteens with purified water for you to drink. By the time the meat was ready, you were feeling a little sleepy. The entire time, Ezra had been silent, but you had felt his gaze on you more than once. It had made you smile, self-satisfied. Nice to know you still had it in you.

You grabbed the two bowls and handed him his dinner while sitting down beside him.

“What are you reading?” You asked as you grabbed the two canteens on the floor in front of you.

“It’s a fictional story about an estranged family that becomes stranded in a dangerous forest and are forced to work together to stay alive. I picked up at one of the kiosks in Central.”

“Oh wow, it sounds really interesting. I haven’t done much reading lately.”

“I can read it to you if you’d like?” He asked and you nodded eagerly, smiling at him.

“Yes please.” He smiled and flipped to the start of the book. He took a deep breath and began. You immediately realized just how perfect his voice is for narration. Much like his storytelling abilities, his narrating abilities were so natural and so confident. His voice was the perfect balance between high and low, with his accent bringing warmth to his words. His voice made slight changes in tone with every character and every new statement, especially those that were exciting or confusing. You found yourself magically immersed into the story being weaved by his melodic voice, and the easy flow of it made you feel at peace in a way you couldn't exactly pinpoint a reason for.

You hadn't realized you'd fallen asleep until your head had hit his shoulder. Your eyes shot open and you sat rod-straight, covering your face in embarrassment. “Oh my god, Ezra, I’m so sorry. I must be more tired than I thought.” He had smirked and you had seen him lean a little closer to you.

“You can sleep on my shoulder any time, starflower.”

“Well… aren’t you the sweetest apparition these eyes have ever been graced with? Such a pretty vision, worthy of all the stars in this universe and the next.” Your head snaps up at the new voice in the room. It’s gruff from the lack of use, but it warms you all the same. He’s smiling softly, his eyes half-closed as he faces you now.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Ez.” You say quietly. He frowns slightly.

“Is that where I am? Could have sworn I was finally in Kevva’s sacred grasp, given the angelic picture before me.” He says softly. This time, you can’t help yourself. You barely process getting out of your seat and tossing your journal aside before rushing towards him, hugging him. He lets out a groan as you squeeze his form and you wince, pulling back.

“Shit, I’m so sorry.” You say, giving him some space to breathe. He lets out a smile, trying not to grimace as he readjusts.

“No, no. Don’t apologize, darlin’, I have longed for this sentiment indefatigably.” He says. You smile, tears springing to your eyes as you hug him again, this time being more careful. He instantly melts into you, bringing his arm up and cupping the back of your head to him as you tuck your face into the crook of his neck. “Kevva, I have missed you.” You hear him sigh as he clings to you. You take a moment to enjoy this. His familiar scent of teakwood fills your senses and it’s the most relaxed you’ve been in ages. The spiciness of the leather, cinnamon, and tobacco that clings to his skin finally convinces you that it is actually him. This is Ezra.

“I missed you too, Ez. So much.” You admit, a couple of tears finally falling and gathering on his collar bone. He had lost a bit of weight from the lack of solid food, but you could still feel the familiar softness of his body still.

“Hey, now,” You sniff as he pulls back from your embrace, the hand now placing itself on your cheek. He’s more alert now and his brow furrows in concern as he looks at you. He uses his thumb to wipe the tears from the corner of your eye. “What are these melancholic sentiments about?” He asks.

“When we lost contact, I got worried. I didn’t hear anything for cycles. I thought maybe something had happened. Some nights I feared the worst. Then you arrived like this and the doctors… said you might not wake up again.” You can see him processing your words and he exhales slowly.

“My comm link was destroyed during a scuffle with some Saters. None of the other teams had one. I tried for rotations to contact you but all my efforts were futile. Every signal I managed to find was either corrupted or unstable. Eventually, I had to come to terms with the fact that I wouldn’t be able to reach out on the Green. But, believe me when I assure that I tried, sweetheart.” You nod, finally understanding. “I promised I would find you again. I kept my word.” He says. The relief fills you.

“I know.” You say, but his concern doesn’t dissipate. “Thank Kevva you did, otherwise I would’ve been very upset.” You say, putting on a false stern voice. You do an exaggerated pout for emphasis and your plan works because he laughs softly, his face at ease again. Stars, how you’ve missed the sound. How you’ve missed him.

“Well now, can’t have that can we?” He asks. You shake your head in response. A look you can’t describe is on his face and the air is suddenly filled with tension as his gaze drops to your mouth. His hand is still warm on your cheek, and you see him lean closer until he’s only a breath away. “I will always return to you, my starflower.” The seriousness in his tone cuts through you, sobering you up. You let out a shaky breath as his warm scent fills your senses again.

“Ezra-”

“You’re awake.” You jump away from him as you both turn to the foot of the hospital bed, where Cee is now back from her trek. In her hands are some of Ezra’s favorite gummies, along with some baked chips and a few cans of pop.

“Little bird, you’re still here.” He says, smiling at the girl. She nods, looking over at you with a smile on her face.

“She’s been taking care of me.” Ezra looks over at you in surprise.

“Cee hasn’t been able to reach her family in Kamrea yet, so she’s been staying with me.”

“How long was I in a state of unconsciousness?” He asks, and you move off of the bed. Before you can move any farther, he grabs your hand in his, keeping you there. You smile to yourself as you respond,

“Two cycles; the doctor had you under heavy sedation while you healed from your surgery. How do you feel?” You ask.

“Ravenous.” He says, but he's looking at you intensely. His eyes are obsidian, darker than you've ever seen them. You laugh softly - a slight shiver running down your spine - and press the button to call Zeeva. As you pull back, he grabs your hand again. “How I have longed to hear that sound again. All my recollections of that sweet voice do it no justice, moonlight. The melodic timbre of it, the richness in tone. I do not wish to ever be kept from it.” You’re unable to say anything, stunned into silence. You were used to his sweetness being much more subtle, and even more private, just between the two of you. Even during your various partnerships in the digs, you both made a conscious effort not to make a habit of your connectedness extending past the walls of your pod. Because you knew it would likely lead to big trouble for you both. Especially in front of rival teams. But he spoke now as if you were alone, paying no mind to Cee only a few feet away. And damned the stars if your attraction to him didn’t just spike. You blush, and the soft smirk on his face doesn't disappear. When Zeeva comes in, she and an A.I. help Ezra sit up. You ask her if Ezra can eat and she nods,

“Just take it slow, nothing too solid yet. I think the cafeteria is serving some Womoon meat and broccoli soup. You can also have a pudding cup and some water. Try to keep everything as bland as possible.” You, Ezra, and Cee nod, thanking her.

“I’ll go to the cafeteria; get plenty of food for all of us.” You say, but Ezra doesn’t drop your hand.

“Now, hold on. I just woke up. I am capable of disregarding my hunger for a few minutes.” He says, running his thumb along your knuckles. He then moves your hand up to his face, leaning into your touch. His scruff tickles your palm and you bite your lip. You can’t believe that even just that soft gesture has you buzzing. You laugh again, trying not to go red in the face. You know you fail when his smile widens.

“You’re hungry, Ez. You haven’t eaten anything in over two cycles.”

“I can go,” Cee says, dropping the snacks on the foot of Ezra’s bed. The entire time, she had been watching you both carefully, and you had a feeling she was offering to go to give you and Ezra another few moments of privacy, But you couldn’t be alone with Ezra right now. It was everything to you to know that he was here, he was alive. But there was definitely something different about him. You had a feeling his brush with death made him more brazen, more open than you remember. And you weren’t sure how to feel about it. You were so used to knowing his affections to be soft, subtle. It was a solid, unspoken agreement you two had made throughout the years… this was uncharted territory. You stood up straight, giving Ezra’s hand a gentle squeeze before dropping it.

“No, I’ll go, Cee. You keep Ezra company and I’ll be back soon.” You try to ignore the momentary hurt look in Ezra’s eyes, who just nods as Cee takes a seat. His gaze burns into your back as you leave the room, and you have to take a moment to breathe when you’re finally alone in the hallway.

About 20 minutes later, you have a cart with all the food and even more snacks for Ezra and Cee. The cafeteria had been relatively empty, but the lady there had been kind enough to heat your food for you and offer you a cart to take it all back to the room. As you near the door, you can hear Ezra and Cee talking. You’re not usually one for eavesdropping, but you can’t help it as you hear Cee reference you,

“So, how do you know her?” Cee asks.

“We have indulged in various partnerships throughout the years,” Ezra replies, and you hear the tearing of plastic, likely his gummies.

“So she’s an ex?”

“Thank Kevva, no. Our relationship has always been strictly professional, birdie.”

“You like her, though, don’t you?” Cee says, and you hear the teasing tone in her voice.

“Very much so, little bird.” He replies, and your heart skips.

“Good. She’s kind and smart. She’s been here every single night since we arrived.” She says.

“She has?” He asks.

“Yes. It’s obvious she feels the same.” At that you stop listening, pushing the door open. They both look up at you, and Cee immediately is out of her seat, holding the door open for you.

“Couldn’t wait, could you?” You say a smirk on your face as your earlier suspicions are confirmed. Ezra has the candy in his hand, chewing some. He shrugs lightly,

“Go easy on me, dearest, you know I am not immune to the allure of these flavorful treasures.” You smile again as you and Cee begin handing out the utensils, food trays, and cans of pop.

******

Hi, hello! Hope you all enjoyed Part 3 (: I also wanted to let everyone know that I plan on uploading Ezra x Reader one-shots that will and won't take place in this NL AU. I am super open to collaborating with people who enjoy my work so please let me know if there is anything in particular that you would like to see in upcoming chapters of this story and for the one-shots; I love to write what people enjoy, not just what I enjoy. Thanks a million for all the love and see you next Saturday!

Tag list: @castleamc @klara-luise18

Links!

Join the Tag list here

Spotify Playlist here

Ao3 link here

TikTok here

#NorthernLightsAU #pedro pascal #ezra prospect #prospect 2018 #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal x you #ezra x reader #ezra x you #fanfiction #alternate universe #crossposted on ao3 #cozy-pie #youre a killer #i am indeed #but are queue

35 notes · View notes

artemiseamoon · 4 years ago

Text

Ezra (Prospect)

The love of my life.

💫 = ofc

Completed Fics

Opia | Ezra x ofc ( Read on A03 ) 💫

Lacuna | Ezra x ofc ( Read on A03 ) 💫

Nostalgia Antiques | F reader

Lilac Lounge | Ezra x ofc ~ Ofc x ofc 💫

Elysian | soulmate au Ezra x ofc 💫

The Queen of Poisons | Werewolf! Ezra x ofc

Headcanons

Ezra x pets

Ezra x Milo (his cat)

Dogs

One shots & Drabbles

Pumpkins and Chestnuts | reader unspecified

The Art of Storytelling | reader unspecified

No Love too intimidating | bi Ezra x f reader x omc

Sunday Kind of Love | Ezra x f reader

Golden | Ezra x f reader

Luminous | Ezra x f reader

Electric Feel | Ezra x f reader

Apple Cider & Maple Syrup | Ezra x f reader

Love Letters | Ezra x f reader

Flowers, Sweaters, Kittens | Ezra x GN reader

The Star, The Sun, The Moon | mentions of Cee | Ezra x GN reader

Incandescent | Ezra x GN reader

In Ezra’s Arms | Ezra x GN reader

9 Muses | Ezra x f reader

Imagining worlds | Ezra x f reader | ft Cee

The Process of Getting Better | Ezra x GN reader

Love is a rebellious bird | Ezra x f reader

All My Love Is Yours | Ezra x f reader

The joyous Delight of Pleasure | Ezra x f reader

A Lovers Moon | Ezra x GN reader

The Adventures of Ezra and Milo x , x , x

Water Lilly | Ezra x gn reader

Rock lobster | Ezra x f reader

Pirate! Ezra f * (will be a fic soon) | on hiatus for now

Animal Desires | Ezra x f reader

Love on the green | Ezra x ofc 💫

No heroes no villains | Ezra x ofc ft Logan Delos 💫

Splendor | Ezra x Little bird

Repose | Ezra x Aurora

Your devoted lover | Ezra x Luna

Divinity | Ezra x Evangeline ft Cee mention 💫

A light at the end of the tunnel | Ezra x ofc, ft. cee

In progress fic

None atm

Future wips *

Not sure if I’m coming back, so future works are on tba💜

Marauders of the Deep | Pirate Ezra w/ cast & f reader *

May turn to ofc when it returns later this year.

Frisson Bleu | Ezra x ofc 💫

Wicked Pleasures | Dark vampire Ezra *

The Trickster and the Belle | Ezra x ofc 💫

* dark fic, darker tone

….

Inumon

The Nocturnes of Melancholia - upcoming

#Ezra #Ezra prospect #ezra fan fic #Ezra writer #prospect #prospect au #cee prospect #by artemiseamoon #ezra headcanon #Ezra Drabbles #Ezra oneshots

105 notes · View notes

insomniamamma · 2 years ago

Text

@deadhumourist Oh my goodness, thank you!!!! Ezra's such a menace isn't he? I think this is the second fic I ever posted, but this is the one that really opened the floodgates. I meant it to be a one-shot but that didn't happen 🤣. The more I write for Prospect, the more I just want to inhabit that world, even if it is dangerous and scary sometimes. Thank you for reading ❤️

Prickle: Ezra x F! Reader

A/n: Okay, so don’t know what the hell this is. I was trying to go to sleep a few days ago and this just kind of popped in there, the idea of Ez giving the reader a weird nickname. I swear I have a more serious, put together fic in the works, but this demanded my attention first. I meant this to be short, but I suck at keeping things short.

warnings: language, angst, mild violence, lil bit of fluff, no beta

______________________________________________________________________

He calls you Artichoke. Since hiring you on, Ezra has thrown a string of nicknames at you, mostly botanical or avian, some referencing things you have never heard of, and this is the one that stuck. Cee is Little Bird most of the time, until she indulges in teen-age surliness and then she’s Channel Rat. You are Artichoke. Which would be fine, except you don’t have the foggiest idea of what an artichoke is. Nothing about the word triggers anything in your brain.

Keep reading

#comment rb #prickle 'verse #prickle au #ezra prospect #cee prospect #ezra prospect x f!reader #ezra prospect x f!reader w/cee

157 notes · View notes

insomniamamma · 1 year ago

Note

What's my favorite fic? WHAT'S MY FAVORITE FIC?? What isn't my favorite fic, my darling?!?! I know! I know! That doesn't help all that much, so let me think...

I love the Nico series.

Every Ezra I've read is pure gold and I know I have more gold to prospect. (See what I did there??!)

But some shout outs to - Remain Nameless, Tricks (Or how Bee Girl got seduced into a life of crime): Ezra x F!Reader w/ Cee... OH I CAN'T REMEMBER THE NAME OF THE ONE WITH THE PHONE BOOTH - HEART-RENDING!!

You break my heart with every Frankie fic...

You are just brilliant, and EVERYONE SHOULD READ YOUR BEAUTIFUL WORDS AND SENTENCES AND PARAGRAPHS!

HAZEL-RAH!!!!!! I LOVE YOU SO!!!! Persistence is the fic with the phone booth and I do a little happy dance when ever anyone mentions it because it was one of the stories that just hit all at once, like fully-formed. That's a very rare thing for me, and Persistence felt effortless in a way that most of my stories don't.

Tricks was so much fun to write. I love Halloween. And if anyone could convince me to commit petty crimes it would be Ezra 🤣 Part of me wonders if this becomes a Thing for them. Nothing super illegal, just a little bit of vandalism here and there.

Remain Nameless is the saddest thing I've ever written, hands down. That idea fucked me up, and then I made it everyone else's problem.

I love writing for Nico. I just want to study him like a bug. Sweet and wealthy and a bit clueless, but also with his own hidden hurts. And Frankie? That man is an angst magnet. I don't make the rules.

I love you so much, Hazel, you don't even know ❤️ You are one of my favorite humans.

what is your favorite fic of mine?

#ask games #hazel my beloved

2 notes · View notes

insomniamamma · 3 years ago

Text

Safe: Ezra x f!reader w/Cee

A/n: What can I say? I'm hormonal and all my shit hurts and if I cannot get snuggles IRL then I will write something super soft and self-indulgent to make myself feel better. Part of the Prickle AU. Set sometime after Sacellum.

Warnings: Oh no! There's only one bed. Soft!Ezra. Language. Cee's best friend on The Pug is non-binary and also named after my little boy's favorite stuffy. Maybe the slightest bit of angst. But mostly super soft.

"You did this on purpose." "Right hand to Kevva, I did not. I asked for double occupancy and they must have misunderstood and--" "You don't have a right hand," "Let's go back to the reception desk," says Ezra, "We may be able to negotiate more appropriate accommodations." "Errgh," you groan. Reception had been a nightmare, three freighters worth of traffic trying to secure berths all at once. It was a lot of people. Too many for your liking. Cee was staying with Kit and their family. Kit and Cee had practically tackled each other right there on the dock, everyone else forgotten, walked away arm in arm. "We shove off in three cycles," Ezra hollered at her retreating back, and she flapped a dismissive hand at him. You had to smile. For three cycles Cee gets to be a normal teenager hanging out with her best friend without worrying about points and pulls and overhead costs and fuel margins. "I don't wanna go back down there," you say, "Too many people. I think twice the population of Falnost was waiting in that fucking line." You brush past him and into the suite. The ceilings are low and slightly curved and it feels strange to be under this much grav. The outer rings of Puggart Bench have something close to terra-normal gravity, but after so much time spent on little moons and worldlets, this much G feels weird and you have no desire to trudge back down to reception. "You sure?" Asks Ezra. "Yeah," you drop your day bag and press a hand to the mattress. "Look at the size of this thing. It's, like, five crash-couches wide. This seems above our pay grade." "They're overbooked," says Ezra, "We're paying the same points for the berth we should have gotten. I made sure of it. I can sleep in that recliner if--" "No." "No?" "Kevva, Ez, we're both adults," you say, "I think we can share a bed for a night without exploding."

Your suite has a real, honest-to-Goddess shower with a generous 15 minute timer. You scrub as fast as you can and then just let the water hit you, let the pressure pound on your tense back muscles until the chime sounds and the water cuts off. You towel off and dress, soft clothes you sleep in, and pad out into the main room. Ezra is reading, face far off and serious, and you just look at him for a minute, illuminated in the warm lamp-light, absorbed in his book, little furrow between his brows and then he looks up, all knowing smirk and dancing eyes, he's caught you staring. "Your turn, Ez," You say and turn your face away. Kevva. This man. You've been trying to keep things professional, but it's a losing battle. His flirtations make you flush, but he's never tried to push you, never tried to leverage the fact that it's his name on the ship's title, that you signed a contract, that you are junior-most crew. You feel safe with him. And, from your limited experience in the fringe, that is a miracle in itself.

Ezra sets his book aside and heads for the bathroom. You peel the sheets from the other side of the bed and settle in. There's a media player bolted to the wall, but you just want quiet. You switch off the lamp on your nightstand (we both have lamps, we both have a nightstand, how weird is that?) The sheets feel deliciously cool against your skin. To be clean and sleeping in clean sheets...if Heaven isn't like this Kevva's got some answering to do. Ezra sings in the shower. You're barely awake and you smile. Ezra can't carry a tune in a bucket, singing fringeling songs and reels, stories of mercs and pirates and ghosts and you drift off to the sound of him, the sound of the water running.

He sees you soft and loose and asleep. No rail-gun, no body armor, no thrower under your pillow. Your face slack, snoring slightly. You've kicked out of the blankets and lay curled as if chilled. "Hey Artichoke," he murmurs, pulls the blankets up and tucks them around you, "Let's get you warm, yeah?"

Ezra wakes. Bleared red numbers of the clock saying that this is still the deepest ditch of local night. Ezra is warm and confused. He feels you pressed against him, your chest to his back, an arm hooked around his middle, your legs entwined with his. You've sought him out in your sleep and folded yourself around him, your breath slow and steady against his nape. Ezra's eyes prick with tears. He can't remember the last time he's been held like this. He's had lovers. He has payed for sex on the less reputable Benches of the Great Arm, but for someone to hold him? For someone to touch him without payment, without trying to press some advantage, gain some kind of leverage, without priming him for the inevitable backstab? He is overwhelmed. He tries to wriggle away from you, but your arm just tightens around him. "...fixed the transponder," you mutter against his neck, "told you we didn't need...told you..." He pats your arm and relaxes against you. "Okay, Artichoke, okay, sweetheart. Go back to sleep."

You wake enfolded, Ezra's good arm wrapped around you. You feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, the slow sussurration of his breath, the snores that catch in his throat and turn to murmurs, the rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek. You've tucked yourself against him in your sleep. Your hand rests on his sternum. Oh Kevva. What are you doing? You go rigid. Your first impulse is to wrestle out of his hold, take one of the blankets and install yourself in the recliner that you wouldn't let Ezra take, but part of you wants to stay right here in the combined warmth of your bodies, feeling his breath, his heart, his calloused palm spread against your shoulder. You shift, making the smallest effort to pull yourself away and his arm tightens further, a low, sleepy chuckle reverberates through his chest. "Hi Ez," "Hi." He strokes the pad of his thumb along the exposed curve of your shoulder. "I'll get up," you say, even as he shifts and cups the back of your head in his palm, tucking you closer. "You don't have to," he says, voice rough with sleep. This gesture pricks at your heart. Coming up on Falnost has made you hard, guarded, there has been precious little gentleness in your life, pulling rocks out of the parched ground since you were big enough to lift a shovel. Learned to fight and shoot to chase water-thieves from the homestead. He strokes the back of your head like one might pet a skittish cat and your heart squeezes. "Ezra?" You hate how small your voice sounds, you hate the uncertainty you hear there, "Are we okay?" "Of course we are," he says, "Why wouldn't we be?" "I wrapped around you like a Bueller's world python and I did it in my sleep-" "The wrapping was mutual-" "You're not mad or uncomfortable or anything?" He laughs again, gentle huff of breath against the crown of your head. "Mad about waking with you in my arms? The day I'm mad about that you can just shoot me in the head and send me to Kevva because I will surely have lost my ever-loving mind." You smile against his skin and relax some, your hand unfists and you curl your arm around his soft belly, feel his breath hitch. "Tickles." "Sorry." You feel yourself drift, skirting the edge of sleep. He is warm and solid and you let yourself relax against him. “This feels...safe..." you say, so close to sleep that you're not sure if you've said it aloud or if you've just thought it. And you're not sure if you hear his response or dream it, one word. Always.

"She's late," says Ezra. "We still got a sixteenth to button up and board," "Still," says Ezra, "Yon freighter will leave with our pod wether we're strapped in it or not." You see Cee and Kit, trailed by Kit's parents, weaving through the crowd. Cee is beaming, her blonde hair has a brilliant streak of blue, and Kit has a matching streak in their hair. "Hey guys!" Cee hugs Ezra and then hugs you. "How was your shore leave, Little Bird? I like the fancy hair." "Isn't that cool? We've got matching streaks," says Cee. "It's semi-permanent," says Kit, "We'll pick a different color next time!" You have to smile. Cee looks revitalized. Three cycles spent with her friend, just doing normal kid things has been good for her. "Check this out!" says Cee and pushes a laminated drawing towards the two of you. Ezra makes a show of looking carefully. "I recognize you and Kit," he says, "I am not familiar with these other people, though." "They're from The Streamer Girl, dumbass," says Cee, "Here's Clo and Reive and Lily and Auri. See? Kit put us right in the story." Ezra gives Kit his best smile. “You drew this? You are very talented." Kit smiles big. "Thanks!" says Kit, "I'll put you guys in the next one! Maybe you could be professors at Bowsun Academy or something." "I look forward to it," says Ezra. "Time to go, Cee," you say and Cee and Kit exchange one more enthusiastic hug. "Later fringeling!" Calls Kit. "Piss off, stationer!" Cee calls back. Ezra curls his fingers around yours and squeezes. Cee tells you all about her three cycles with Kit, the movies they watched, the Real Food they ate. How Kit's little brother wanted a blue streak in his hair too and Kit's parents said no and how mad he got. I wanna be cool like Kit and Cee. "I told him he's got plenty of time to be cool," says Cee, "And he told me that I don't understand how the world works. He's like, four." Ezra laughs. "Wise for his years." Says Ezra. And the three of you fall quiet. You find the pod much as you left it, towed to the Polly Jean and clipped in, transferred by the station's tugs. You settle in and do a full systems check. Calling out the checklists and making sure everything is good for transit. "What are you guys so happy about?" asks Cee. "Whatever do you mean?" asks Ezra. "You been all smiles since I hit the dock," says Cee, "Both of you. Did we score a really good job? Did we win the Puggart Bench lottery or something? What aren't you telling me?" "That," says Ezra, "Is for us to know and you to endlessly speculate about." "Hmph," says Cee.

Tagging: @oonajaeadira, @grogusmum , @honestly-shite, @writeforfandoms, @ladyvengeancesposts, @the-blind-assassin-12

#ezra x f!reader w/cee #ezra prospect x f!reader w/cee #ezra and cee #soft!ezra needs his own warning #don't look at me #this is so soft

114 notes · View notes

insomniamamma · 2 years ago

Text

Indulgence: Ezra x f!reader

A/N: initially written for @littleferal's writer's iron chef. I had to polish it up and expand it a little because I can't help myself. The prompt was "taking a bath together." I didn't quite have time to work the second prompt in, and I don't really know if it was something Artichoke would say. Also Cee is not really in this one. She is away at school in the Ephrate. Takes place after Fancy but before Christmas In The Ephrate. May run concurrent with parts of Seasonal. But it can stand alone.

Warnings: None. Really this is soft soft soft.

Ezra is up early and moving around. This is nothing new. He's always been an earlier riser, awake and chipper no matter what local dawn is doing. Sounds and voices come through the bedroom wall. Nothing new, Ezra is friendly with the neighbors, someone comes along the road, gravel and rutted, and he'll call them over for coffee and a bit of gab. There are some other sounds that threaten to wake you further, thumps and bumps and the whine of some sort of power tool, but you find yourself slipping back under, the lure of more sleep stronger than your curiosity. Ez is probably puttering around, modifying the dropper.

The house is slowly becoming a proper home. The three of you agreed on a standard colony dropper kit. Nothing too fancy. This is what we make of it, Ezra had said, it'll be hard work, but we're no strangers to that. No return boosters, just enough fuel in the tanks to guide the drop, to park her on your property. The dropper is built to be converted into a shelter. Empty fuel tanks converted become cisterns, cooling system pumps now draw water from the river. The RTG provides power to supplement the solar kit, and also warmth, heating for the winter, hot water in a near endless supply, it'll still be pissing out power when our grandkids are old and grey, said Ez.

A prickly kiss to your temple wakes you. You stretch and slit your eyes open.

"Hi," you say, a yawn drawing out the word. "Hi yourself," says Ezra. "Is it still morning?" You ask. Ezra smiles. You blink at the light coming through the window. It's taken some getting used to, the weather, the light, passage of time measured by the rising and setting of the local Sun and Moons,Greater and Lesser. "Close to local noon," says Ezra, "You would sleep all day like a cat in a sunbeam if I let you." "Hmph. It's not like we've got anywhere to be." "No, but there is only so long I can be without your company," says Ezra, and taps the tip of your nose with his finger, knowing it will make you scrunch your face in frustration. "Selfish." "Perhaps," He takes your hand in his and gives you a little shake. "Up you get, Prickle, I've got a surprise for you. Close your eyes." You reluctantly leave your blanket nest and let him lead you, his hand warm against the small of your back. You hear the creak of hinges, and then a warm wall of steam hits you, welcome on your chilled skin. Farhaven is colder than you're used to. Colder than the benches. But there is rain and snow and seasons, things you were starved for without even knowing. "Open up those pretty peepers, Artichoke," he murmurs, nuzzled into your neck, his lips brushing the tender skin below your ear. "What the--I thought you sold the engine skirts for scrap!" "An omission on my part," says Ezra, eyes crinkled and dancing with mirth. "The water's nice and hot. Hop in."

A proper bathtub, fashioned from the cargo dropper's engine skirts, ugly welds but it holds water and you slip in with a groan that makes Ezra grin and close your eyes. Such indulgence was unimaginable on your home world and on the stations you've frequented. But here? There's a river outside your front door. Water clean and cool and good to drink. Your family back on Falnost would lose their collective minds at such waste. "You like it?" "Are you insane? You can practically swim in this fucking thing. I don't even wanna know what you traded for this." "Jamie's oldest is apprenticed to a smith in town," says Ezra. "We help with the Jessonroot harvest?" "We help with the Jessonroot harvest." "Worth it," you say and open your eyes, "You gonna get in or what?" "Thought you'd never ask."

#ezra x f!reader #ezra x f!reader w/cee #prickle 'verse #prospect AU #lissie's iron chef #expanded on that submission

76 notes · View notes

insomniamamma · 2 years ago

Text

Thanks for reading Adira!! Yeah. I never get sick of these three. I imagine the other crews she's signed with would have sold her back to her shitty family without a second thought. Not our boy though. Artichoke is crew and I think he feels a similar responsibility to her as he does to Cee. I mean, he is mostly in charge of this disaster trio 😁 I think he wants to be better than the people who left him on the Green Moon (and that version of himself).

And Artichoke? Yeah. She had to get out of there. You know what weird insular vibe that small towns have? Falnost is an entire planet of that.

Thank you for reading ❤️

Where The Heart Is (Ezra x F!reader w/Cee)

warnings: mentions of past violence, sexism, crime, anxiety, fear of abandonment

A/n: Written for @writersironchef 14. I started this fic when the prompt dropped and then got interrupted and forgot about it for a while. I did not work the second prompt in because I ran out of time. Part of the Prickle 'verse AU. Sometime between Pigment and Clean Dirt but you don't have to read those to understand this. A story about home and how you can't go back.

[PROMPT] A well-kept secret is revealed

"Oh hey, Falnost," says Cee, "That's home for you isn't it?" The spit dries on your tongue. "Lemme see that," you say and grab the itinerary out of Cee's hands, the scheduled drops along the flight path and sure enough, there's Falnost, the final pivot and then back Central-ward. "Huh," You try to sound non-committal. "What's the job?" "Evershine," says Cee, "Big deposit. Guess the locals can't get it out of the ground without fucking it up." She grins at you, but it falters when she sees that you're not responding in kind. "Should be a pretty straight pull." "Straight pull. Sure." Ezra eyes you from across the pod, but if he reads anything in your face he doesn't say.

You botch a hand of pulls on Elee, the last drop before you tuck yourselves in for the Falnost pivot. It's a simple enough job, run your blade along the sagittal sutures and into the soft meat without nicking the inner membrane. It's a bit like taking the pit out of an avocado, says Ez, and you and Cee just exchange a look. You don't know what an avocado is and you doubt Cee does either, Ezra likes to make mention of weird Old-terran things he's encountered. The sixth pull you hose Ezra reaches and grips your wrist, stilling the trembling of your hand.

"Keep the perimeter," he says. "We're losing the light." And you nod, relieved. There are a few middling predators on Elee, but nothing worth fussing over. He's giving you an out. Later that night when you're back at camp settling in, Cee already absorbed in her music, writing out a story in her battered journal, Ezra reaches across the space between your cots and pokes you to get your attention. You dog-ear your page in the shitty espionage thriller you picked up on The Pug. You've been expecting this.

"Something's bothering you." Says Ezra. A statement. Not a question.

"I'm fine."

"You're not. You've been nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs since we shoved off Arlen. I've never seen you do so poorly on a pull--"

"So prorate me. Adjust my cut. It's fine."

"It's not about the cut, Artichoke," Ezra shakes his head, "It's not about the pull. Since I've hired you on I've rarely seen you so rattled. I understand wanting to cast off the place you came from but this seems like something more." He folds his hand around yours, smoothing his thumb over your rough knuckles, squeezing your fingers in his.

"Talk to me," he says.

"Please,"he says. And you do. You tell him about how you were the unwanted daughter, a problem to be solved, find her a man and she'll settle down, even though you only had eyes for the skies for the bright star of the bench, for the etched lines of drop-ships screaming in across the black.

"This armor. The rail-gun. It's not mine," you say, "I stole it from my brother. I skimmed enough to buy me off world and then I took what was his and I ran. I can't go back there. They'll KNOW me. They'll find me, they won't let me leave--"

"You are crew," says Ezra, "Signed and sealed. They can't hold you--"

"They've put bounty on me," you say, "I read it on the drop-net. The money's good--"

"Artichoke. Stop." His hand grips yours tight, squeezing almost to the point of pain. "You have your papers. You are registered crew aboard our fair vessel. They cannot legally detain-- "

"The bounty's 17c-scrip to points--" He drops your hand and reaches for you. You flinch back, he curls his hand around your nape and pulls you close, presses his forehead against yours. If this was suit work he would be tapping his face-plate against yours, a gesture that can mean anything from I know this is a rough one we'll talk when we get back to camp or hey dumbass you're on the wrong channel. This? This is different, and you're not sure how. He keeps you there a beat, and you feel yourself settle some.

"I'm not gonna sell you," says Ezra and draws back so he can look at you, "Kevva, what kind of folk've you been running with?" You shake your head. Ezra's question answers itself.

"If they come for me, don't tell Cee okay? Let her think I got homesick and decided to stay. I don't want to scare her."

"That's not going to happen," says Ezra. He grips your shoulder and gives a little shake, "Look at me. You are crew. No one gets left behind. Not you, not me, not Cee. We clear?" When you meet his eyes, you see nothing but concern, little furrow digging itself between his brows, worry lines bunching themselves across his forehead. You study him, peer into his eyes. There is sadness there too, and you think maybe he knows what it is to be screwed over for a half-hand of points on a pull.

"Yeah. Okay. Clear."

#comment rb #sunshine adira #prickle 'verse au #prickle 'verse #ezra prospect x f!reader #ezra prospect x f!reader w/cee #ezra and cee #prospect fic

38 notes · View notes

insomniamamma · 3 years ago

Text

Sacellum: Ezra x f!reader w/Cee

A/n: set in Prickle 'verse, right after Clean Dirt but can be read as a standalone. Reader is established crew with Ezra and Cee. Ezra's nickname for her is Artichoke. I'm not a doctor so any inaccuracies regarding hypoxia and cyanosis are mine.

Warnings: Anxiety. Claustrophobia. Agoraphobia? Not entirely sure which applies. Panic attack. Medical emergency. Mentions of food and drink. Protective! Ezra needs his own warning.

"There she is," says Ezra, firing the thrusters to turn the pod so the heat shield is angled for reentry. This is not a sudden motion, Ezra handles the drop-pod delicately. Fuel saved is a safety margin for the boost. The result is a slow arcing turn that gives you a view of the world below through the windows. Not that there's much to see. ALX-M72 is a featureless white orb, a vague lattice pattern of off-white on white, like the mackerel-skies of your home world after a miner-craft sent a hunk of gravel and water-ice slush down the well, a teasing promise of rain that never quite fell. "We got weather coming?" you ask, and Ezra gives you one of those knowing smiles, the one that says you've got a lot to learn, dirt-farmer, the smile you would very much like to smack off his skull. "Those aren't clouds," says Cee, "'Sacellum Mycorrhizae' You're looking at the dominant life form on this rock." "Myco...what those are giant mushrooms down there?" "Something like," says Ezra. The pod vibrates as you cut through the atmosphere, plasma glowing hot white outside the windows. You and Cee go quiet during entry. Ezra mutters as he pilots the pod through the burning heat of entry. C'mon you Kevva-cursed son of a melon-drunk Jata. C'mon you piss-stinking channel rat... Ezra reaches for the panel and the drogues fire and are immediately torn away, a sickening jolt that you always feel in the pit of your stomach. "Deploying mains," says Cee, another jolt, less harsh and the pod is drifting. "Get ready," says Ezra, "We'll break through and then hit the ground." The pod lurches and then drops with a jolt that clicks your teeth together. "Kevva's tits! You could've warned me!" "I did."

Since you've been kicking around the Great Arm with Ezra and Cee, you have seen some Strange Shit, but this little moon might be the strangest of all.You emerge from the pod and the visible patch of sky where you broke through shines a brilliant star-shot indigo, impossibly high up. The pod sits canted in a nest of something that looks like noodles, thick pallid ropes squirmed over the ground, reaching out from the base of a huge tree. Tree is the wrong word for what you're seeing, mushroom is closer, only this mushroom is as tall as the skyscrapers of central. The three of you stand beneath it's fluted canopy, light from the harsh double suns passing through the fragile flesh, casting a pearlescent, diffuse glow over everything. "Wow! This is weird!," says Cee, echoing your own thoughts, her voice slightly muffled by the mask covering her mouth and nose. The atmospheric pressure is something close to optimal and the environment isn't toxic enough to warrant suits, but you do need a little supplemental oxygen. Ezra showed you how to work the breather and set it just so, small cylinder hanging from your hip where you could reach easily if you have to adjust the mix. "You good?" Asks Ezra, and you give yourself a once-over. Thrower? Check. Paint? Check. On the hip opposite your oxygen cylinder you have a can of bright green spray-paint. Nothing on this world is as loud as that paint, this is a world of gentle pastel colors and soft iridescence like the inside of a mollusk shell, bland in its sameness. That green paint is like a scream in the silence. You go from one canopy to another, you blaze your trail. Spile? Ugh. He'd handed you the spile and you'd asked,

"This isn't gonna be like the bugs is it?" He'd chuckled. "I'm serious!" You'd placed the spile wrong on that last job, arterial instead of venous. The result was a high pressure jet of the worst smelling substance you'd ever encountered in your life, all while wrestling a carnivorous bug nearly as long as you were tall. "Not to worry, Artichoke," he says, "You jam the spile beneath the node and let it drain the sap. That way you don't get sprayed in the eyes when you cut through." "Is it sticky?" The scythe-wing ichor had the consistency of molasses and smelled like an open sewer. Your stomach rolls at the memory. Your voices echo oddly under the canopy, like the odd laugh that gets amplified inside a temple for the whole congregation to hear. "It's gonna be fine," says Cee, "I've been here before." "Really?" Says Ezra, "You didn't tell me." "I was real small," says Cee, "Me and Dad and Mom. I didn't even think of it until I noticed the smell." The three of you stand in silence for a moment. Cee is right about the smell, there's a smell like wet earth and ozone under-layed with the scent of crushed leaves, something musty and old. "This is an easy enough pull," says Ezra, "We'll split up. We'll get more pearls that way. Just make sure you mark your path. It's easy to get turned around. We clear?" "Clear." "Clear." "We meet back here a half-cycle from now and take stock," says Ezra. You set your chronometer for a quarter cycle. Quarter out, quarter back. Their footfalls are fading already, faint echoes from the fluted ceiling of the world. Once they're out of your sight you turn up your head and yell at the oddly vaulted canopy "Woo!" And your own voice comes back to you oo-oo-oo from what feels like a hundred different directions. "Echo-ko-ko-ko-ko. Weird," you huff under your breath and even that comes back a little the percussive d sound clicking, bouncing from the curls and furls of the canopy.

Ok. Enough screwing around. Time to move out. You see where Ezra and Cee have blazed their trails, bright purple for Cee and screaming orange for Ez, and you turn in the opposite direction, spray a bright green X over the pearly, moss-carpeted ground before darting into the light. The canopies? Caps? Of the Sacellum trees do not overlap. Crown-shyness Ezra called it. If drill-worms get into one cap it doesn't spread to the others. The two suns, Karava I & II scorch the ground between the canopies, not far to travel, about the distance between your homestead and deep-drills back on Falnost, but far enough that sweat sheens you, Kevva almighty it is hot, and then you are out of the bright and back under the cool, delicately ridged flesh of the canopy. You spray a big green slash, and then head inward to examine the fleshy nodes dotting the fibrous stem.

Color indicates maturity, Ezra had explained, shown you on the stem where you'd landed, you're looking for a nice baby-blue. Too pale and you get nothing but a handful of shiny grit, too blue like those ones up there--he'd pointed with the business end of the spile, those one's don't have the same shine, less sap to cushion them. They get rubbed raw. Ezra had grinned, like people, I suppose. Cee rolled her eyes and got to harvesting. You shove the spile into the first node, angling down like Ezra showed you, so you don't get sprayed anywhere vital, and even through the mask, the smell hits you, a chilly, almost sweet chemical smell. The node shrinks, puckers in on itself, a leathery shroud around the inner gem. You pull out the spile and use your knife to enlarge the hole, cold liquid slopping out over your fingers. You strip the gem out of it's membrane and hold it on your palm, letting it catch the light, small, about the size of your thumbnail, an asymmetrical stone, tender milky blue with faint iridescence in the soft light. Ezra was right. This a very easy pull. Drain the node, enlarge the hole, squeeze out the pearl and tuck it into the bag slung over your shoulder, your hands fall into the mindless rhythm of it. You hum to yourself. You don't notice how your humming no longer echoes, you don't notice the thick silence, the absence of bug sounds. Your chronometer pulses against your wrist. Right. Quarter cycle out and quarter cycle back. Time to turn around. You rub at your eyes and start scanning around for your blaze. The green should shout against the pallid moss and roots but there's nothing. "Ok," you say, "Ok, don't panic." You'd been working in a circle around the stem, harvesting all the young pearls you could reach. You pull the paint can from your hip and spray an 'X' on the stem. You circle the stem, keeping a hand on the soft, slightly rubbery surface as you go, looking frantically for your trail-blaze, for any sign of disturbance you might have left. The ground under the canopy is covered in pale, springy moss that bears no trace of your passage, and beyond that border, the two suns sizzle down in a wall of glare you can't see beyond. You forgot to mark your path. Stupid. "Hey Ezra! Cee!" You call, "Ezra? Cee? Where you guys at?" Something feels wrong. You call their names again and hear nothing in return, not them, not the echo of your own voice bouncing from the fluted ceiling. You can't hear the bugs, you can't hear the bird analogues, you slap the stem of the mushroom-tree, feel the vibrations move up your arm, but you can't hear it. At the same time you notice a whooshing sound in your ears, a rapid, thundering sound, Kevva is that your heart? Stay calm, you think, even as you run to the edge of the canopy and scream their names. There is no echo, no reverberation and you wonder if you are even screaming at all. Hypoxia, you think, panic, rapid heart beat, confusion. You think these things even as you run along the canopy's edge, calling for them, you claw at the breather cylinder at your waist and fumble with it, cranking it open, maybe there's a kink in your line, if you could just focus, if you could just think-- "Ezra! Cee! " Your voice spirals up in rising panic, you scream so loud it hurts your throat, but there's something wrong with your ears, something wrong with this place, you can feel your heart racing, your breath coming in shallow pants--are you out of oxygen? The gauge said there was plenty. So why can't you breathe? Black floaters pass across your vision, you tear your mask off to look at it and your comms mic comes away as well, how did you forget? You smash the talk button "mayday mayday mayday--" You wretch and collapse to all fours, you can't stop coughing, you can't breathe, you can't--and then they are crashing towards you, Ezra yanks your mask off, you fight him, feebly, presses his own mask over your nose and mouth. "Breathe!" He says, He grips you around your waist, pulls the two of you down against the trunk if the Sacellum tree, so your back is against his chest. Cee grabs at your breather and you thrash. "S'okay," says Ezra, "Breathe for me. Deep breath. Again." He pulls the mask away from your face, so he can take a breath, "Cee--" "We're good," says Cee, pushes your own mask onto your face, "Valve got cranked the wrong way--" You grab the soft plastic and push it against your skin, but your heart hammers, tears prickle in your eyes, even with your mask fixed, you can't stop--you can't-- His arm hooks around you, across your chest and shoulders, pulling you tight to him. "Breathe with me, Artichoke," he says, soft and low against your ear, "Feel me breathe. Synch up." Ezra breathes deep and slow, and, eventually, your breath calms and matches his. In the meantime, Cee has nestled up against you, her fingers laced with yours, tucked against your side. You start crying. You can't help it. Your face goes hot with shame. You fucked up. You fucked up and you can feel it in every bit of you. You forgot to blaze your trail. You screwed up your o2 mix. Ezra's grip around you tightens. "You're okay," he says, "You're okay. We've got you. Just breathe." Time passes. You're not sure how much. "Can you stand up?" He asks and you do, offering your hand to pull him up. You can't quite meet his eyes."Cee. Backtrack and finish your pull. I'm going to take her back to camp." "Ezra--" "You've had quite the scare," he says, "I'm taking you back to the pod." His hand wraps around your upper arm. "Ezra I'm fine," you try to pull away and his grip tightens, not to the point of pain, but enough to send a clear warning. He's smiling at you. It's a bright edged smile. "I'm not asking," he says gently, pulling rank without making a show of it and you bow your head. Whatever else has happened, you are still junior-most in this little crew. "Ok."

The walk back to the pod feels like a whole stand. The two of you are silent. Ezra hovers at your elbow. You paw hot tears from your cheeks and try not to look at him. You don't understand how you managed to get turned around so quickly. How you managed to screw up your comms and your o2 mix in one go. The two of you enter and he turns on the pods atmo-regulators. Good air gets pulled in, a bit of o2 gets added from the reserve tanks and when things get too funky it bleeds off bad air for good. You have enough reserve o2 for cycles, but that's not enough for Ezra. He exchanges your tank for a fresh one, swaps out your mask for a nasal cannula. "Put this on," he says. "Ez-" you say, but his face is hard, giving nothing. You slot the stubby tubes into your nostrils and loop the hose over your ears. Ezra helps you adjust the hose beneath your chin. He fusses with your breather. "Do not touch this," he says, "No matter what." He shoves a sack of loose pearls into your arms. "I would rather you rest, but I know you have a hard time keeping those hands idle. If you feel you must do something, clean and grade these. But do not leave this pod without my say-so. We clear?” "Ezra--" "Are. We. Clear?" "Clear." Ezra adjusts his breather mask and turns to leave. "Ezra, I'm sorry." He gives you a long, troubled look, his eyes soften. "Please. Try to rest. We'll talk about this later."

You grade the gems. Of course you do. Looking at the laminated chart, sorting by color and clarity into the divided tray, got the tray in your lap and the chart balanced across the arms of the crash-couch, your little piece of real estate inside the pod, holding the milk-blue pearls up to eye level, trying to suss out the color and clarity, makes your eyes tired and you lean back into the crash couch and doze off, tray of pearls balanced across your lap. You long ago learned how to sleep without moving. The interior sounds of the pod, endless breath of scrubbers and regulators and coolant systems soothing you to sleep. Sometime later, you feel the tray of pearls being lifted off you legs. You sit up and shake your head to clear it, wake up to Ezra and Cee stowing their breathers and equipment. "Hey," says Ezra, "How you feeling?" "M'okay. Tired." "Any headache? Nausea?" "I think I'm okay," you say. Your stomach rumbles, "I'm hungry." "Good," says Ezra, "I'm afraid it's more of The Usual." The Usual being Bitz Bars and slurry packs. He tosses you a Bitz Bar and holds up an array of slurry packs like a hand of cards. "Gimme the green one." "Ew," says Cee, "The green ones taste like socks." "How do you know what socks taste like?" Cee rolls her eyes. She mumbles at you around a mouthful of fake chocolate. "How bout you, Cee?" "Surprise me. Just not green." Bitz Bars are not good by anyone's standards. Foodstuffs meant to pack flat and last forever usually aren't, but after the first bite you are wolfishly hungry. "Kevva, I'm starving. This tastes like the food of the gods right about now." "You blew a bunch of adrenaline," says Cee, "You need the calories even if they do taste like shit." Ezra tuts, but nudges another Bitz Bar into your hands. "You want some more green goo?" "Please." "Stuff's gnarly," says Cee. "You just don't know how to appreciate the finer things," you say, and the three of you crack up. Finer things at the ass end of the Great Arm include limited edition Special New Flavor Bitz Bars, trading the same three books you've been reading for over and over for a half-stand for three more books that will have to last you until the next time you dock at a bench that has a book exchange, and actual showers that don't involve solar heating or wet-wipes. You smile at Ezra and he smiles back, doesn't seem angry like before, but those creeping doubts are still there. I'll negotiate, you think, I'll cut my points on this pull. That should make up for the lost time you caused. Every pull is a race against time, drop, harvest, boost in enough time to make the slingback, and your fuck up has cost the three of you harvesting time, profits. You rub at the cannula tubing on your face. "Ez? I feel okay, can I lose this now?" "A little longer," he says. He's settled into his crash couch, feet propped up on the console, holding a battered novel. He's mastered the trick of turning the pages one-handed. You and Cee plop down on the floor of the pod, grading the pearls, each with your own tray and the chart spread between you. Cee has her music player on external mode. This is routine for you and her. Ezra knows what to look for, but he is slow at it, so he leaves it to the two of you. Many hands make light work, he likes to joke, and you are up several hands on me, but you don't mind. You find the action of going through the pull, sorting and packing, soothing. "This is a good pull," says Cee. "Coulda been better," you say. Cee shrugs. "We still got three more cycles," she says, "I'm not worried." You glance at Ezra and he is absorbed in his book. You work in silence for a beat, not true silence, not like under the canopy where everything felt muffled and strange and you weren't even sure if your voice was coming out at all. "I couldn't hear anything," you say, "Under there. I could hear my own heartbeat, but I couldn't hear anything else." "That's on me," says Ezra, "I forgot to warn you about the new growth canopies. The Sacellum Trees mineralize as they age. The older groves echo, the newer ones dampen sound. You must've stumbled into a region of new growth." You nod. "Does that mean I'm going out with you guys tomorrow?" "We'll see how you feel in the morning," says Ezra, not looking up from his book, "You can lose the hose if you want, but keep that cylinder close in case you start feeling strange."

The three of you settle in for the night, reclined in your crash couches, Cee's music filtering soft through the pod. She falls asleep with the music player on most nights. Her breathing has already evened out, and soon Ezra is snoring away as well. He tends to murmur in his sleep and you are used to it. The sounds of Ezra and Cee are like the sounds of the pod itself. Something familiar that you tune out, that becomes background noise, but not tonight. You toss and turn and check your chronometer every few minutes. Pull your blanket up and kick it off again. "You're unsettled," You roll on your side to look at him, the dim light of the pod's passive displays show his face furrowed in concern. "Yeah, no shit," you snap and sit up, legs swung over the side of the crash-couch, digging your fingers into your temples, trying to release the tension that's pooled there. He reaches across the space between you and rests his hand on your knee, smoothing his thumb absently over your skin. You can't quite meet his eyes. "I fucked up out there, Ez, I panicked." "It happens to everyone--" says Ezra, "Why I--" "Not to me it doesn't," you say, "You hired me for protection. You hired me so I could keep you and Cee safe, how'm I supposed to do that if I panic on a routine drop--" "I promise you, there is not a spacer alive that hasn't gone sideways at least once--" "That's not the point! If there'd been hostiles--" His hand squeezes your knee, trying to get your attention, "There weren't any hostiles--" "But if there were--" He sits next to you, his arm curls around you, pulling you to his side. He hugs you hard, as if he could press the anxiety out of you. You shrug out of his hold and plant your arms on your knees, head dipped low. Ezra strokes your back, slow, up and down your spine. "You were so angry--" He freezes, hand splayed against the juncture of your neck and shoulders. "Angry? I wasn't angry." You meet his eyes and see nothing but concern there. "Artichoke, your lips went all purple. I wasn't angry, I was scared shitless." You sit in relative silence for a moment, Cee's tinny music and the drone of the pod's systems. "Kevva. I don't know what happened to me out there. I feel like there's something wrong with me." "Let me see," says Ezra, "Sit up." He presses the back of his hand to your forehead, brows furrowed together, then rests his cheek there briefly. "Ez--" "You don't feel feverish," he says, presses his fingers to the veins at your wrist. You feel yourself grin. He's making a dour face but his eyes crinkle at the corners. "Ezra, are you taking my vital signs?" "Shh--" He presses two fingers beneath the angle of your jaw. Kevva, he is so weird, you think, but now you are smiling in earnest. He gently grips your jaw and turns your face slightly so he can look in your eyes. "Oh," he says, "Oh, I see. Mmmh." "Well, Doc, how bad is it?" "Bad I'm afraid," says Ezra, "You have a severe case of being human." You laugh. "Don't suppose there's any cure, huh?" “ 'Fraid not," he says, and pulls you close, pressing his lips to your temple, "You'll just have to learn to live with it."

Tagging: @oonajaeadira , @honestly-shite , @grogusmum , @writeforfandoms and @themarcusmoreno

#ezra x f!reader w/cee #prickle au #prospect au #ezra (prospect) x f!reader #ezra prospect x f!reader #ezra and cee

88 notes · View notes

insomniamamma · 4 years ago

Text

Masterlist: Oh crap I guess I write fic now (and some original art)

Prospect:

Egret AU:

Greenhorn: Young!Ezra x F!reader

Fairy Tale of Puggart Bench: Young!Ezra X F!reader

Oneshots:

Euphemisms: Ezra x F!reader

Prickle: Ezra x F!reader

To Have and to Hold: Ezra x Gn!Reader

“Ferris Wheels Are For Old People”: Ezra x f!reader w/Cee

Persistance: Ezra x f!reader w/Cee

Headcannons:

Soft!Ezra headcannons

The Mandalorian:

Dragon: Boba Fett x Gn!Reader

Original Art:

Art thing(webcomic IDK what the actual title is yet):

Panel 1 comms array

Panel 1 progress vid

Panel 2 control console (in progress)

J!TheMando:

J! as a Mandalorian:

used this Halloween photo as reference:

j!TheMando progress

j!TheMando progress 2

j!TheMando progress 3

j!TheMando progress 4

j!TheMando progress5

j!TheMando progress so far

Moodboards:

Rainer Maria Rilke

aesthetic game

queen of poisons

Azra Tabassum (Ezra vibes)

13 notes · View notes

insomniamamma · 2 years ago

Text

Ribbons & Wings: Ezra x f!reader w/Cee

A/n: I started this on a night of heavy snow followed by blistering cold. I have seen the northern lights, once in Alaska and once in in western New York state. Set between after "Rain" around the same time as "Clean Dirt." I may revise the timeline as I see fit. As with everything else in this AU, this can stand alone. Reader is nicknamed "Artichoke" and "Prickle." Ships and Kings is a game that persists through my Prospect fics,. Cross DND with chess played on a hexagonal board. As with any game there are house rules that vary. Kevva’s Flick is a highly contested (and some claim illegal) move in Ships and Kings.

Warnings: Language. Anxiety. Food mentions. Mentions of old injuries. Snowball fights?

"--all ships in northern quadrant be advised boost is not recommended at this time. Hold tight if you are able--next pickup is in 10.25 cycles--"

"What does that mean?" asks Cee, "Understood, drop-com, we'll see you on the other side--" "Ezra, what does that mean?" You hear the rising panic in Cee's voice and reach for the thrower you keep stashed under your bunk. "There's a storm coming," says Ezra, "Might close our take-off window." "So we're stranded." Says Cee. She stands and gets in Ezra's face, "You told me this wouldn't happen." "I can't control the weather, Birdie," says Ezra, "We launch into a blizzard and there's a chance we break up." "Fuck--" "How long?" You ask and they both snap their heads around as if they've forgotten you're there, "If we get grounded how long are we here?" "You heard the man," says Ezra, "10.25 cycles." "That's two hands," you say, "We can make that. We'll be fucking sick of Bitz-bars but we've got enough margin." "What if we boost now? Minimum checks--" "C'mere," says Ezra, he sits on the edge of his crash couch and Cee takes her place beside him, "You too. Let me show you something." Ezra plops his battered data pad into Cee's waiting hands, she holds it so he can manipulate the touch screen. You hunker behind Cee, peering over her shoulder, hunched in the confines of the pod. "I'm getting the same info yon freighter's getting from the weather sat, about a sixteenth delayed," says Ezra. He zooms into the northern quadrant where the pod rests near a large, frozen over lake. "Ooo-oooh," says Cee, face pinched with worry, "That's bad. If that's from a sixteenth ago--" "Conditions are likely worse by now." "What are we looking at, Ez?" You ask. "The lines are wind direction, the color scale is speed. We take off now, our boost curve takes us through the worst of it, right at the point of maximum dynamic pressure." "That could tumble us." "Could do worse than that," says Ezra, "Big gust could crumple us like a beer can." "But if we miss the sling--" "Artichoke's right," says Ezra, "We've got rations for at least 15. More if we stretch it." "If worse comes to worse we can do some ice fishing," you say. "Bleee-arrgh," Cee makes a wretching sound. You were harvesting the spiker fish for their odd, metal-rich navigation organs and you'd cooked one over the camp fire just to see what the meat tasted like. "That was like licking a battery terminal." "Lick many battery terminals, Little Bird?" Cee laughs. "Spend enough time in a pod and you'll do just about anything for fun." "The spiker wasn't that bad," you say. Ezra and Cee look at you with mixed horror and fascination, "I've had worse things in my mouth." "Didn't need to know that," says Cee.

We best power down what we don't need, said Ezra, and the three of you began a systems check. Reading off the things you were each responsible for when getting ready to drop or boost. Proximity radar and chute pyro-batts were obvious. Local comms. External lighting. Scrubbers. You sure about the scrubbers? Air's fine, it's just cold, we can reverse the aft vents and draw heat off the RTG baffles. "We're only talking two hands," you say, "Between the reserve tanks and the scrubbers we should be fine," and Ezra gives you a flat-eyed look that means you've strayed somewhere you're not supposed to be just yet. "Two hands have a way of becoming more,"says Ezra, "We take what care we can. Clear?" "Sure. Clear."

The pod sounds strange half powered down. You don't notice the faint clicks and chirps of the guidance computer until it's offline. In your head you know it'll boot back up just fine, but it still feels deeply wrong having it off. Same with the Baas converter, all the hardware that does the thinking for you. The wind moans through the trees outside, a low warbling wail that resonates through the pod. You and Cee exchange glances. She's got her music player on, but her eyes are big and dark and scared, and you don't like this any more than she does. There's no snow on Falnost but wind is something you understand, driving sand before it that can etch windows, it never happened to any of your livestock, you and your father and brothers were too careful for that, but you'd hear stories about pink skeletons, stripped of flesh but still fresh enough to ooze from their marrow. "We'll be fine," says Ezra, "We're stable." Eventually you drift into an uneasy sleep. There's nothing else to do.

"We've definitely missed the window," says Ezra, confirming what you expected, "But we might as well have fun little while we're here, right?" You are barely awake, sipping fake coffee from a pouch. "Fun?" "Snow, stupid!" Says Cee, she's already wriggling her way into her thermal gear, "It snowed like crazy overnight! We can bury ourselves in it! We can make a snow fort! Let's go!" You smile, but you feel it curdle, you know what snow is, you've seen vids, and the way Ezra is looking at you you can tell that he knows, he knows you've never seen snow, never felt it for yourself, and you can't look at him. There is so much you don't know. You start suiting up out of habit, thermal gear for a cold world, outer layers for batt-assisted heating-- "Hey," says Ezra, "You okay, Prickle?" "Sure." "I know they didn't--" "Yeah, yeah, we didn't have snow there. We didn't have RAIN there. We'd get a little bit of hard frost come winter but that doesn't count--" "Easy," says Ezra, "Easy. Cee's just over excited." He nods towards the open hatch now venting your hard-won warmth. Cee's voice comes faint from outside, you guys coming or what? "She hasn't had much chance to play in the snow." You exit the pod into a new world. The gravelly shores of yesterday are blanketed in white, the branches of the feather-trees droop in low arcs, burdened with snow. You can feel the snow collapse when you step in it, hear it, a small crumping sound beneath your boots, you turn towards Ezra, smiling and something frigid and granular and wet splatters against the nape of your neck, and you whirl, reaching for the thrower your left on the pod and Cee's laughing, her cheeks pink with the cold. "Gotcha!" She crows and bends down, sinks her hands into the blanket of white. You smile. This might be your first snow but you know mischief when you see it. You scoop up two handfuls of snow and squish them together, noting the give and push-back as it compresses down even as you aim for your crewmate's head. You miss by an Ephrate mile, and her next shot catches you mid-chest. For every shot you land she gets in at least three, and at last you scoop up and armload of snow and start chasing her round the back of a huge feather-tree, and Cee throws up her arms in defense and splutters laughter when you dump it on her. The two of you pause, laughing and out of breath, Cee's cheeks and nose flaming pink. "Cee? Artichoke?" Ezra's voice peals out from the pod , "By your silence I am assuming you are up to no good and I will act accordingly." "He's so goofy," says Cee, and grins at you, "Allies?" "Yeah. Let's get him." Cee bends and starts making snowballs. Ammo dump, she whispers and you nod. Right. "Cee? Prickle?" Cee leans around the tree trunk and yells. "Come and find us old man!" "Old man," you hear him mutter and Cee giggles. She knows just where to poke and how much pressure to apply, "You think you're so hard to track leaving boot prints in the snow--" Ezra rounds the tree trunk and you paste him, snowballs exploding all over his suit. You try not to aim for his head. Cee has no such compunctions. One of her snowballs catches him right in the face, and he shakes his head, snow caught in his mustache, wipes the snow out of his eyes-- "--Oh," he looks past you and Cee, his eyes wide, white limned, "Oh Kevva what's that?!" You turn your head to the dark undergrowth and there's the whine of a discharged thrower over your head and you barely register Ezra's laugh before you and Cee are buried in a shower of snow from above.

You splutter and swipe snow out of your eyes, out of the open neck-hole of your suit. Cee shakes her head, a brief, indignant halo of flakes ringing her flushed face. Ezra howls laughter. He's bent double, face red, eyes squinched shut. "You shoulda seen your faces--" he wheezes. "That was cheating!" says Cee, "No fair--" "That was tactics! That was strateegery--" Ezra takes a bad step and overbalances, flails his arm out and falls on his ass in the snow. "That was Kevva's Flick!" You say and grin. Kevva's Flick is a marginally legal move in Ships and Kings, the kind of thing that will get you stuffed out an airlock if you try it in the wrong company. A badly missed stealth roll followed by a natural sixteen means that your opponent can flick one of your pieces off the board like dislodging and errant piece of lint. The only reason you even know about it is because Ezra pulled it on Cee and they spent the next eighth arguing and wasting precious bandwidth looking up the legality of the move over the drop-net. Cee throws back her head and laughs, bright and clear. Ez crawfishes in the snow and then manages to heave himself upright. "Hmmm," says Ezra, narrows his eyes, but his dimpled smile gives him away, "I know where you sleep, little bird." "I know where you sleep too," says Cee, "Call truce?" A hard gust bends the tops of the feather trees, sending snow down in slow whorls, a low moaning sound that makes the nape of your neck prickle. "We should get back inside," you say, "Wind's gonna pick up." "Truce," says Ezra, and flashes you a smile, "Let's get on in before our C5 friend freezes solid." You trace your tracks back to the pod, landing struts buried in white, it's uglier angles and dents covered over. "Oh hey!" Says Cee, "We can make snow angels!" You and Ezra look at each other, but before you can say anything, Cee is stomping out into the wide expanse of unbroken white. "It's easy, see?" She flops down on her back in the drifted snow and fans her arms and legs. "We called 'em phoenixes back home," you say, and pull Cee to her feet, careful not to step in the wing shaped marks she's left behind, "Once things settled after a storm we'd draw pictures in the dust." You take a few steps so you don't mess up Cee's snow angel and flop down yourself. It feels different. Not like the dust that would puff up in your eyes and stick to your skin but the motion is the same, cloud laden sky instead of the screaming bright stars back home. Cee offers her hand and pulls you up. "Not bad, dirt-farmer," she says, "You do one, Ez. "If I must." Ezra takes a few steps and drops into the snow like a felled tree, makes his own pattern beside yours and Cee's. "I'm somewhat lacking in the wing department," says Ezra, "If I'm to be an angel--" "Hold up," says Cee. She wanders away from Ezra, back towards the dark of the trees and roots around, finds a fallen limb, some feather-needles still clinging to it. "My ass is getting awfully cold, little bird," "Stay still," says Cee, using the branch like a paint brush. "There." She casts the stick aside and offers her hand. She pulls Ezra up and turns him around so he can see her handiwork, a feathered wing traced in the snow, fanning out from the shortened arc at his right side. "See?" "Yeah. I see." Ezra pulls Cee against his chest, she stiffens, then lets herself be hugged, her arms creeping around his middle. "S'okay, Birdie," he murmurs into her hair and you turn away, embarrassed, feeling like you've seen something you shouldn't. The next gust of wind comes with a raft of blown snow, rough and cold against your cheeks. You bend down and draw your name in the snow with an outstretched finger and think of how very far you are from Falnost, the only one in your family to make it up out of the well and see snow. "Come on in before you freeze," calls Ezra, he stands at the ramp and waves, "The snow'll be here tomorrow." You smile. "Yeah. I suppose it will."

"Hey! Hey wake up!" Cee's voice cuts into your dreams, harsh and breathy and urgent and you are reaching for the thrower beneath your crash-couch before your eyes can unstick themselves. "Whuzzit birdie--" Ezra's sleep befuddled voice murmurs someplace to your left "Come on!" says Cee, and she's climbing into her gear, green witch-light shines through the pod's small, rounded windows, "You've got to see!" You pull on your thermal gear and follow her out the door and down the ramp, still half asleep. "What is this?" "I don't know," says Cee, her hand finds yours and the sky writhes overhead, shivering bands of green like curtains, like incandescent ribbons, dimming and shifting and brightening, columns that ascend into the dark, stars muted behind them. No sound at all, a silent ignition, silver-green edged in red. You feel Ezra fetch up beside you, his hand finding yours. "What am I looking at, Ez?" He squeezes your fingers. "It's an aurora," he says, "I think. I've never seen one before. Just vids." "It's so quiet," you say, your voice dropping to a whisper without even thinking. "It is," says Ezra. There is no sound at all associated with the shifting columns, the world gone so still that you can hear your crewmates breathing, hear the soft sussurration of your own pulse. You pull your eyes away from the churning sky to look at your friends’ faces, Cee smiles, wide and open, her pale hair frosted green, eyes alight. Ezra's face is a study in naked wonder, and it's like you’re seeing him for the first time, no spacer's charm, no worldly confidence, just him smiling up at the sky. You squeeze their hands and they squeeze back.

#prospect #prickle 'verse #ezra x f!reader w/cee #ezra x prickle #prickle 'verse au #ezra prospect #cee prospect #ezra and cee #ezra (prospect) x f!reader w/cee

67 notes · View notes

insomniamamma · 8 months ago

Text

Threefold: Ezra x F!reader w/Cee

A/N: I am still working on my kiss prompts for @yearofcreation2023. Yeah yeah. I know we are well into 2024. But I am determined to finish these prompts. The prompt for this fic is "Kiss as a lie." This does not connect to any of my other Prospect fics, even though some terms may overlap. Enemies to reluctant allies. Reader is disabled and relies on body mods to assist her breathing. This one really got away from me. like 6K away from me.

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of injuries and medical procedures. Alcohol and drug consumption. Vomiting. Smut but nothing super graphic. Mentions of bodily fluids. This is not my usual Ezra. He is a shit in this one.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t splatter your brains all over this bar.” You jam your thrower into the curls at Ezra’s nape. You watch him in the bleared bar mirror, watch the color drain from his face even as he smiles, starts to turn his head and you dig the barrel of the thrower in deeper, feel your finger tightening involuntarily, your need for vengeance vying with your need for satisfaction, for some sort of answer for what he did, finger curls slightly and releases again, Kevva knows you never expected to see him again, Kevva knows—something cold jams beneath the angle of your jaw and you snap back into the present. The bar mirror shows a slight girl with a halo of pale hair and thundercloud eyes, a small, freckled wisp. “Put it down,” her voice is soft and steady, “I don’t want to hurt you but I will.” “Well if this isn’t quite the predicament,” says Ezra, “How but you ease up on the trigger and we talk this out like civilized folk.” “Your time for talk ended five stands ago,” Your eyes flick towards the bleary girl in the bar-back mirror, “I don’t know what he promised you, kid, but he’ll fuck you over the second it makes sense. You’re what, fifteen stands? When he ditches you on some no-name moon what’re you gonna do?” The barrel digs deeper into the flesh at your neck. Ezra says your name, not darlin or kitten or sweetheart or any of the slew of names he gave you down on The Green, but the one you told him, the one he murmured against the sweaty column of your throat while you arched beneath him, quivered around him, felt like a blessing from his lips as he spilled fever hot inside you. “I did you wrong,” says Ezra, “You weren’t the first and you certainly weren’t the last, and, if I’m being honest, I did not think on you overmuch—“ The little girl in the warped mirror shakes her head-- “Ez--“ You feel the gun held against your throat tremble. “But these past stands have not been kind,” says Ezra, “To either of us, I imagine.” His eyes flick up towards your reflection and you know exactly what he sees, and how could he not? Paired auto-breathers clipped to your collarbones, metal and plastic welded to meat in an a scarred seal, ports that can be used for a filter-hookup with the right adapters. “So what? That’s the Fringe, isn’t it? That’s what you told me then—“ “How, exactly, do you imagine this plays out?” says Ezra, “You kill me, she kills you. Both of us dead here on the deck-plating and what’s the point of it? Revenge? Satisfaction?” You dig the barrel of your thrower into the meat at the nape of his neck, even as his girl shoves her weapon tighter against the angle of your jaw. “Or let’s say I kill you,” Ezra purrs, and you become aware of a buzzing, like a neglected data pad with incoming message against your inner thigh, but that doesn’t make sense, data pad’s in your left breast pocket and he grins in the mirror, flick your eyes down and damned if he doesn’t have a laser scalpel pressed into the meat of your leg, blood corona already spreading, “Think you can make the shot before I clip your femoral artery? You didn’t crawl out of Bakhroma’s well to bleed out in this dive, did you?” “Damn you, Ezra. You owe me. You left me to die down there.” “I did indeed, and if you ease off the trigger for a tick, I can offer your recompense.You think it’s an accident? You and me nested into the same ring? Show her, Cee.” “Ez, I don’t think-“ “Show her. And I’ll get us some drinks. I think a toast may be in order.”

“You know what we need to do, when we meet up with the others, right?” You cling to him despite the sticky heat of the tent, air thick and heady with the smell of sex, his come smeared between your bellies as you lay half atop him, head on his chest, his arm curled around your shoulder. “I stay on one,” you say, yawning, drifting as he traces aimless patterns up and down your arm, “You switch to two. Give them the talk. You fake a comms error and go for your channel box. You take the big one and I pick off the leader. The one with the red. Then we get, we get out of here.” He squeezes you tight as sleep takes you, his heart slow and steady beneath your ear.

Cee sighs, rolls her eyes, pulls her thrower off your throat. “Fine,” she says, and reaches for a bag slung at her side.

Ezra hails his crew, and hiss of static on your ear when he switches to two, your thrower in hand, trained on the leader, brilliant red plast pauldron over his exosuit, waiting for the signal, for Ezra to go for his channel box, what is he waiting for? He looks animated, smiling through the fog of his helmet, this is wrong, you think, and he turns, thrower in hand and shoots and the world whites out for a tick, your leg collapses under you and when you lift your head there’s Ezra, tucking his thrower back into his holster, the press of his boot against your shoulder rolling you on your back from where you curled around yourself, broken nerves screeching around the path of cooked flesh just above your knee. You know what’s happened, but part of you can’t believe it— “Help me!” You say, met by the hiss of an open channel, he grabs your trophy case and tosses it to his friend, the big man with the railer he was supposed to kill, leans in and reaches for you and for a moment you think this is all some mistake, something that can be made right and he wrenches your filter out of it’s clip, cuts the hose so it’s you and the dust laden atmosphere. “Why?” You ask and know he won’t answer, makes a big pantomime of tapping his helmet and shaking his head. Your eyes scrim over with tears, the cooked nerves in your leg screaming a wordless anthem, “Please.” Ezra bows his head but still smiles, presses his gloved fingers to his helmet and blows you a kiss , that’s the fringe, girl, even with comms cut you can make out the words, and then he turns away, walking off into the brush with his crew.

“Carom-burned pearl,” you say, mouth taking over while your brain runs wild, this gem is trash, sure, but the size— “So what?” You drop your thrower back to your hip without even thinking on it. Impossible to tell the quality with the membrane half-burned into the surface, but still— “Don’t play stupid.” says Cee, “You were on The Green. You know what you’re lookin at.” “I know that I am looking at a botched pull,” you say, “I’m also looking at a little girl who thinks she’s found a friend way out here in the ass-end of the Great Arm. Did he give this to you, spring-sprite? Spin you a tale of buried treasure? He promise you an even split—“ “60/40. My way. 16th per point garnishment to clear his debt,” she says, “Ezra works for me.” You laugh, a real one deep from your belly and the intake fans, your intake fans whir faster to make up for the perceived oxygen debt, vibrations through your bones that you can’t seem to get used to even after all these stands, “Oh, honey, I was gonna kill him, but now I don’t think I will. Think I’ll let you reap the consequences here. Me and Ez? We’re done.” “It’s the Queen’s Lair,” says Ezra, and you stop cold, half-way up off of your stool, seep back down like your legs have forgotten themselves. “I know. I know you’ll never believe me, but we were there.” “You just happened on it right? Just happened to drop right down in the place that every fool and their brother went hunting for on that Kevva-forsaken rock.” “Not me,” says Ezra, “Cee’s father.” “So why isn’t it him making the pitch?” “He didn’t make it,” says Cee. And you nod. Spacer’s phrase for a constellation of mishaps. A blown hull. A dust infection. An altercation in some shit station bar over points or pussy or any number of things. An invitation to not ask. “It wasn’t even really him that found it—“ “Cee—“ “My father was contracted to harvest for Karoclan. Group of mercs found the Lair by accident. Probably digging a shit-pit. We landed bad. By the time we made it to the site it was just me and Ezra, and things got complicated.” “Complicated.” “We had to fight our way out. We barely made the sling.” “You couldn’t do the job,” you say, “And you know I can.” “That’s not-“ “She never learned the trick and I was trying to cut the blisters weak-handed,” says Ezra, “That’s why we need you.” “You went back there. Even after all you took from me. You could’ve gone somewhere better with your cut but you didn’t. You got addicted to the rush.” “I did,” says Ezra. “Me and Ezra and now you are the only people that know the Queen’s Lair is even real,” says Cee, “We go there, we get a good pull and we can live off it for years. Now that the line’s dead the value’s just gonna go up. We get the pearls and trickle them into the market—“ “How’re we gonna get there with the line dead? No one makes the BG sling anymore. They just route everything around Ikhar and—“ “Got a hot-jumper willing to take us for a cut.” Says Ezra, “We ride the line till just after the Ikhar sling and then unclip and burn. Gets us in orbit in 6 stand months.” “Risky,” you say, tapping you index and middle fingers against your right breather, vibration passing from metal into bone, a nervous habit born out of a rerouted urge to scratch at the healing skin. “Yeah. But if we do it right, if we play it smart, none of us will have to drop down some Kevva-shunned well for a hand of points ever again. We can have the lives that sharp-toothed bitch moon took from us.” “Like you didn’t have a part in it—“ Ezra reaches across the sticky bar and folds your hand in his—

He grabs you under the arms, woah there girlie, this is bad ground, yanks you back, so focused on the pull that you didn’t feel the ground shifting beneath you, grab your gear and hold it to your chest even as you’re pulled back from the rapidly forming sink-hole in the loamy dirt, draw your thrower and whirl on the stranger, your gear scattered all around your feet. Don’t fuckin touch me. Is that anyway to talk to someone who just saved your life? What’re you doing out here all alone anyway? who says I’m alone? You got crew? Raise ‘em on coms. Yeah that’s what I thought. Gonna get killed out here all alone.

“I had every part in it,” says Ezra. “The breath of your lungs, Cee’s only living kin, and the arm from my own body. All victim to my greed and stupidity and short-sightedness. I used you and I duped you and robbed you and left you to die and Kevva rightly and thoroughly kicked my ass for it. If not for Cee I would have breathed my last in that forsaken jungle-“ You yank your hand away as if burned. “You do not touch me,” you say, “We are not friends, we are not lovers. That part is over. Forever. We clear?” “Clear,” says Ezra, that infuriating little half-smile crawling up his cheek, “That mean you’re in?” “Maybe.”

Didn’t realize how loud those fans were gonna be. Maybe you’d like me to suffocate about it. Does she ever turn that player off? Do you ever turn your breathers off? Not the same. To her it is.

What’s with you and her? You aren’t kin. You said you cost her only kin. In that pretty speech you gave me so I wouldn’t shoot you. That is a complicated and lengthy tale. We’ve got time.

“Ezra? I don’t like this.” Cee eyes the blue gel pack in her hand. “Once the bolts release Jada’s gonna burn hard,” says Ezra, “She’s got mods to deal with the pain and sickness, but we don’t. If we don’t dope down, we’re gonna be in a world of hurt.” “People’ve died,” you say, and Ezra shoots you a dark look that you give right back, “They go into shock sometimes. Don’t wanna risk that right?” “It’s not addictive, if that’s what you’re worried about,” says Ezra, “We’ve got a sixteenth to take it and have it work. You go past that and it’s your choice, Little Bird.” Cee’s eyes flick from your face to his, and you wonder how you’ve slipped into caring for this girl, this orphan of Ezra’s making, how you became someone she’d look to in a place of indecision. “I’ve never hot-jumped myself, but I was crew with a man who was on a prison transport that did,” you say, hoping the grain of truth in the story will be enough to get Cee to chomp down on that gel pack when the time comes. You heard the story second hand on over drinks on Leylan bench, but Cee doesn’t need to know that. “They didn’t bother doping down the prisoners. Guess they didn’t want to spend the points. Aggie said him and most of the others exploded from both ends. It wasn’t nice. Hallucinated on top of that if I remember right. Hot jump fucks with people.” “Heard some of those tales myself,” says Ezra. “Jada’s a professional. She’s so modded up she can’t handle a drop down a well anymore. She wants her cut we’ve got to be her hands. It’s not in her interest to lead us wrong.” “We got a sixteenth?” “Yeah, but how bout we get ourselves secure and do it all together?” “Okay,” says Cee. The three of your wordlessly prep, following the instructions Jada gave you on boarding. Wear something soft. No jewelry, nothing rigid. These, Jada had flicked a finger against Cee’s music player, are a no-go. The crash beds have plenty of give but I’ve seen people come out the other side with holes in em from fancy buttons on their pants. These gonna be a problem? Jada eyed your breathers and poked at one with a questing finger. How long’ve you had em? Bout five stands. Should be fine then. Bone’s had time to remodel and deal with the extra mass. You’ll be sore though. You remove the ring your mother gave you before you left the well, remove the studs from your ears, don the softest clothes you have. Cee wears an over sized shirt with Puzo in his space suit, long, coltish legs and bare feet sticking out. Her toenails are painted an alarming sparkly green, and your heart squeezes a little. She may have shoved a thrower into your neck but she is still very much a little girl. “We ready?” “This is gonna taste bad isn’t it?” “Most likely,” says Ezra, “We bite down on a three count, yeah?” Cee scrunches her face, tucks the gel pack into her cheek and you and Ezra do the same. “Ready? One, two, three-“ “Oh that is nasty-“ says Cee. You crunch down and swallow the drug in a convulsive gulp, bitter medicinal taste beneath something that is supposed to taste like bananas. Not that you’ve ever seen or eaten one. “That is just—wrong.” You feel sleep sucking at your bones, and you can hear the sound of the hot-jumper’s engine’s spooling up, a bright spike of anxiety tries to lodge itself in your chest, familiar whir of your breathers kicking up as your heart rate rises and then the drugs take you down.

Come to with a raging headache, Ezra and Cee are already awake and at the controls. “Here,” says Cee and tosses you a pack of stim-chews, “Just do one. It’ll kill the headache.” You crunch one, sickly fruit and bitter and you feel a little more alert, but not in a pleasant way, like remembering the last bits of a long and unpleasant dream, not sure exactly what happened, but there was blood and horror and pressure. “Something happened—“ “That’s the drugs,” says Ezra, “Telemetry’s good. We’re right down the line. Five by. Took you a little longer to come out of it, that’s all.” You try to sit yourself up, and your pectoral muscles scream, your clavicles ache where the breathers are clipped to them. You must make some sound, because Ezra turns to look at you, those dark eyes locked on you and you want to slap that concerned face right off his skull— “You okay?” “Yeah. Gimme a minute. Jada said it would hurt.” “Should’ve said something, Kitten, I would’ve gotten you a patch—“ “I’m not your kitten, and it’s not your business.” “You’re right,” says Ezra, “it’s not my business. But we go hot in a sixteenth and I’ll need you sharp. You know what you need to do?” “Do you?” “How bout both of you shut up and focus on the drop,” says Cee, “You can fight it out once we’re clipped back in and bench-bound.” “Fair enough, Little Bird,” says Ezra, “You take the conn, Cee. Your controls.” “My controls,” echoes Cee. “Where’s the pain?” “Clavicles. Achy around the breathers. I don’t think anything’s fractured-“ “Here,” says Ezra. He hands you two pain patches. “Peel these and I’ll stick em.” “Fine.” You open one patch and then the other, stick them to your fingertips and hold up your hand for Ezra to take them. Scoop your hair out of the way and Ezra smooths the gel-patch on to the join of your neck and shoulder. “There you go. Let’s get the other side.” His hand lingers, brief and warm and before you can tell him not to touch you he withdraws. “That should keep you creamy until we’re dirt-side. Don’t be shy about takin what you need from the kit. Need you steady downworld, we clear?” “Clear.”

This feels nothing like a normal drop, not the warning alarm and dull thump of bolts retracting. Going hot means a hand of solid fuel boosters will push you screaming towards the Green Moon, igniting as soon as the clips let go, push you away from the hot-jumper without slowing, vibration shaking the dropper in a sick two part resonance that hurts your ears and churns your stomach— “Oi! chute status” Lock your eyes on the jittering screens. “Bolts are go. Drogues are go. We’re go.” You flip up the toggle guards and hold your fingers above the switches. The thrusters fire and the dropper rocks, flipping itself so the engines face down, watch the numbers on your screen go green and listen for the callouts— “Heat shield sep!—“ “Tracking?” “We’re clear! Go for drogue deploy on your mark—“ The switches vibrate beneath your fingers, you feel the vibrations in your skull, in your bones, strange resonance in your ears that churns your stomach, crush your eyes shut so you don’t have to see the way the screens jitter in and out of focus. “That’s atmo—“ says Cee. “Blow the drogues in 3..2…1…mark—“ You flip the toggles and lurch forward hard into your harness, and then back into your crash-couch as the landing burn starts. “Where we at—?” “Transonic,” you say, numbers blearing green on the scope, “we’re green.” Hook a bag from where its stickied to your seat and wretch into it, smell of fake chocolate half-digested Bitz-Bars and jump drugs. Grav and spin enough to fuck your inner ears, and the engines burn hard, “Landing gear deploy—“ calls Cee. There’s a hard thump and you’re down and stable but your roiled stomach and pounding skull and tight neck betray you and you dry heave while the others gear up. “Gimme a minute,” you say, pressing your eyes closed, trying to get some sort of control over yourself, “Haven’t done much well-work since— since—,” heave helplessly over the bag but nothing comes up, there’s nothing too come up. Ezra rests his hand your arm. “Hey. Look at me—“ You try to lift your head, and the world starts spinning again, too much time station-side, too much time in the gentle, predictable spin of bench-rings, your body’s forgotten the suck of the world on your bones, on your blood on your lungs “Can’t,” you crush your eyes shut, welcome dark nulling out some of your screaming nerves. “Okay,” says Ezra in the roiling dark, “Okay, Baby, I need you to breathe real deep through your nose for me.” “Not your baby—“ “I know,” he says, “Deep breath. Through your nose. One, two, three--“ You breathe in, left over bitz bar chunks making their presence known, irritation followed by something numbing and cool and slightly spicy, you stomach calms but sweat breaks out all over your body-- “Is this even gonna work?” Cee glares, hands on hips, mostly suited. “Finish kitting up and start scouting the perimeter,” says Ezra, “Stay on two unless I tell you different. We’ll be out shortly.” Cee narrows her eyes, but does what she’s told, seals her helmet and clips her filter and steps through the hatch, brief breeze of equalizing pressure, scrubbers kicking up to deal with the dust as do the fans clipped into you. When the seals cycle Ezra hands you a styrette. “This’ll kill the nausea. Also you won’t be able to shit for a half-hand or so. It’s intramuscular” “I’ve given myself hot-shots before,” you slide your pants down and jab the styrette into the meat of your thigh. Ezra’s eyes flick away. “Cee’s funny about chemical help,” says Ezra, “Her father was an addict you see. He’d dope down and then stim awake and it scares her so-“

“Let’s just suit up and do the job,” you say, baring your back to Ezra so you can don the compression garments that go under your suit. The suit’s a custom-job to accommodate your breathers, filter clipped into a hose split and spliced three ways, clean air for your breathers to pass on to your dust-scarred lungs, and another than clips in to your helmet. Settle your mic-rig over your ear. “Channel two how read?” “Channel two clear,” says Cee. “Two clear,” says Ezra, odd doubling of his voice through your rig and through your helmet. And then the channel goes dead. Hollow thump of Ezra’s fishbowl pressed against yours. “Can we do a suit check right quick?” His voice muffled by his helmet and yours, “I think i’ve got it, but I’d like—“ “Turn around.” “Cee usually—“ “I’ve got it.” He turns his back to you and you lift the loose fabric off the back seal, two twist catches with hook and loop for the outer seal. You tighten the right side catch and smooth everything else into place. “Thank you,” he says, “You need checks?” “No, I’m green.” “They’re still here—“ Cee’s voice loud and overdriven through your rig and Ezra bolts for the hatch. You shove yourself into the nacreous light, Bakhroma hanging above, it’s curve spanning the sky like a diseased rainbow, pulsing through thick clouds and the endless fall of dust. “They’re dead, Birdie! Look! They’re just bones in suits. They can’t hurt us, okay?” You turn your back on them. Cee’s breath loud and ragged on two. “Okay,” says Cee, “M’okay—I just” “What the Kevva be-cursed fuck?” A plast box rises out of the tall grass, curled around in flowering vines inside and out, a skeleton inside seated on a small bench, glints of gold and bones stained a livid, unnatural pink. “He got back in the box,” says Cee, “Why would he do that? He let us go and then he got back in the box.” “Karoclan,” says Ezra, “An oblation I suppose.” Your neck prickles. “Those folk are fuckin crazy,” You press the back of your hand to your helm and push away, palm out, a gesture to dispel bad luck, can’t rightly remember where you picked it up. “Look,” says Cee,” standing in a bare, cracked circle of dirt, “This is where we boosted from. Must’ve baked out the soil.” “Hey. Let’s get the pull. We can get all nostalgic once we boost.” Ezra gives you a dark look, but Cee, bounds past and into the trench. “Ezra,” she says, her voice flat, even over coms. You and Ezra catch up to where she’s frozen, stone still, “He’s still here. Why is he still here? Why are they still here? It’s been almost a stand.” You push past Ezra and examine the sprawled and sagging suit, nudge the boxy helm with you boot, rotted breather hoses crumbling, dust floating up. “Are you gonna get your shit together or not?” Cee flinches. Glares at you through her fishbowl. Ezra scowls. “I hardly think—“ “I’m here to harvest,” you say, “And I will harvest, but I am not doing it alone unless you alter the split.” “You’re out of line, Kitten,” says Ezra, “You seem to have forgotten who’s hired you on for this venture—“ “It’s okay,” says Cee, “I’m okay. Third time pays for all, right?” “Third time pays for all,” says Ezra, “Clear.” “So lets dig,” says Cee, “Fuck these guys, right?” “Fuck ‘em.” you say, “We’re gonna get rich while these fellas feed the bugs for the next stand and change.”

The kips that came before you exposed the leading edge of the deposit, oxidized crusts shimmering in Bakhroma’s murky light. “They didn’t prime any of this?” “They didn’t know to do so,” says Ezra. “That one over there—“ Ezra jerks his head towards a blood colored suit with faux gold adornments glimmering through a twisted clutch of creeper-vines, “Got himself acid burned for his troubles.” “Dry breach.” “Something like.”

This is no hurried dig, this is no quick pull and boost, Jada has her heart set on atmo-skimming around the outer moons before hooking back up. Trying to break some record. Ezra hovers at first, flitting around the perimeter you’ve established, light poles stabbed into the boggy ground, and then gets drawn in to the excitement of the pull, peering over your shoulders as you and Cee work. Cee is a quick study, follows your instructions to the letter, and between her hands and yours? The size and clarity is like nothing you’ve seen. “This makes what we got last time around look like pea gravel,” you say. “We’re going to have a weight issue,” says Ezra. “Do we stop?” asks Cee. “Absolutely not,” says Ezra, “We keep pulling and take the highest grade with us. And then we chem-burn what ever we leave behind.” “That’s crazy!” says Cee. “Think on it,” says Ezra, “We burn it behind us and no one else can get ahold of these gems ever again. Not at the size and quality we’re pulling.” You split the fibrous outer husk and Cee squeezes in the diffuser without being asked, and you feel yourself smile. “The scarcity sets the price,” you say, “We’re the only folk who know about this deposit. No one will ever know we scorched it.” “But all these pearls—“ “No one knows about them,” says Ezra, “Only us and Jada and she can’t ever drop down here herself. And some hot jumper hits a bench blatting about buried treasure on a world they can’t touch? Only ads to the mystique and rarity, and the points in our accounts.” “Enough to get me into the Academy? You’re laughing,” she frowns at you, “why’re you laughing?” “Because this is fuck you money,” you say, “We play this right you can probably buy yourself a station-ring or five somewhere in Central. This is do whatever we want forever kind of money if we keep our heads.” “She’s right,” says Ezra, “We play the long game and there’ll be precious little we can’t do.” “Still want to go to the Academy” says Cee, peeling the outer husk away just like you showed her and backing off so you can cut the carom blisters, but there is a tub full of the biggest pearls you’ve ever laid eyes on hardening in the fazer. “And so you shall,” says Ezra. “You do this one.” “You sure?” “You’ve been watching me excise blisters all cycle. Give it a go.” Cee turns the pinkish mass one way and then another, jaw clenched in fraught concentration, trying to grip without touching the blister, the trick is to slide the blade under and cut it free from beneath, go in at the wrong angle and the cillia react, defensive mechanism. “What’re you gonna study at the academy?” You ask, and her face loosens up some, her hands do the work they’ve been trained in, pulls the inner husk tight and slides the blade under the blister. “I’m thinking a botany/anthropology double major,” she says, flicks the blister into the weeds like she’s done it a million times before. “Huh,” you say. “Interesting combination, Birdie,” says Ezra. “What ties the two together?” Cee slices another blister and flicks it away, brief curl of steam where it sizzles in the grass. “What doesn’t?” says Cee, “Why do people bring certain plants from one world to the next? You remember the orchard we saw on Verres? Someone planted those trees there. Don’t you wanna know who and why?” “Guess so,” says Ezra, “It was a bit creepy seeing all those trees in lines. Verres being classed unihabited and all.” “I’ve seen stuff like that too. Folks’ve been screwing around in The Great Arm for a long time-“ “Hey! Fazer!” Cee barks and you squeeze the fluid into the cut, watch the husk curl and shrink away. “There she is,” says Ezra and the three of you look at Cee’s prize, held aloft in the murky daylight, Bakhroma’s ruddy arc taking up most of the sky. “Not the best one we’ve pulled—“ “This one’s mine,” says Cee, snatches the squeeze and coats the pearl before tucking it into her suit pocket, slow smile creeping up her face, “This is my fuck you pearl. We make it out of here and I’ll use it as a paperweight if I get into the Academy.”

“When you get into the Academy,” says Ezra, and Cee rolls her eyes, and you feel yourself smile a little. You like Cee. “You should do one, Ezra,” says Cee, “You peel it down and I’ll hold it for you.” “I don’t think—“ “Give it a go,” you say, “Get yourself a fuck you pearl.”

Ezra eyes the exposed deposit, an irregular honeycomb of aurelac pores, dirt darkened to mud, sprayed water from the onboard tanks to rinse away the caustic slime. “In for a penny in for a pound,” he says, just loud enough for the mic rig to pick up and shoves his arm inside. His breath comes ragged over two. “Ezra?” “I’ve got it, birdie. It’s a big one,” he says, and Cee slices through the dirt flecked umbilicus. Ezra cradles his prize like a kitten then sets it on the tray. Cee gives it a good rinse like she’s been trained to, pinches the outer husk and rolls it between her gloved fingers, loosening it up from the inner husk so Ezra can cut. “It’s thick,” says Cee, “You got wiggle room. We got time. It’s not like before.” Ezra’s breath steadies and he cuts, splitting the fibrous husk, slow, careful movements, beads of sweat popping out on his brow. Cee peels the husk away, like taking off a sock and you douse everything with the diffuser. Ezra primes the blade, waits for it hit the right setting and then freezes, sharp edge glinting in the ugly light as his hand shakes. Cee wraps her hand around his wrist. “You’ve got this.” “Okie. Yeah. Let’s give her a go. Third time pays for all, right?” “Third time pays for all.”

One half-stand later…

Pain is the first thing, deep, sprained ache in your chest, thirst is second, thirst and taste in your mouth and nose like burnt rubber, third is a warm hand holding yours. Squeeze your fingers around a warm palm, around a plastic handle with a button on top that you press and then there’s no more ache, no more thirst, no more light shining blood ugly through your closed lids.

Later. You come back to yourself. The pain is less and the thirst is more. Slit your eyes and cram them shut, dark blob leaning over you haloed in screaming light, the hand holding yours lets go. oh, shit, let me douse the lights. And the bloodshine through your eyelids stops. Blink the tears out, and Ezra’s face resolves out of the dark his face pinched with worry. “Oh Kevva, I’m dead.” His eyes go big and then he brays laughter. “Fraid not, Kitten. Might not feel like it right now but the head nurse assured me that you’re healing well.” You close your eyes, and press the button that will kill the pain. “Why’re you here?” “Cee was worried. She keeps tabs on both of us. She couldn’t make it herself, she’s up to her eyeballs in her new school, she tested in and—“ Sleep is calling, the ache in your chest dying to a low hum. Why’re you really here? not sure if you say it or think it, and the drugs call you down before you can figure it out.

thirsty. “Can you sit? I’ve got you.” His arm curls warm around your back and tilts you up, plastic straw pressed against your lip and you drink deep, frigid water against your raw throat. “Slow sips,” says Ezra, “Don’t want to shock your stomach.” One arm holds you up, a hand offers you a cool drink. You blink your eyes open, confusion and cool water against your dry tongue wake you some, close your lips around the straw and drink deep before Ezra snatches it back, plastic bottle gripped in an intricately articulated prosthetic hand, burnished metal plating like the scales on a snake's belly, telltales and indicators winking, etched over with decorative grooves, circles and curves. Looks a bit like a nav map. “Slow,” he says. You narrow your eyes at him and swish the water around your mouth, trying to wash the dryness, the foul taste away before swallowing. “You didn’t go for a regrow?” Your voice sounds lower than usual, ratchety. Ezra shakes his head. “Too much nerve damage for that,” he says, “Scarring and time passed.” You reach for the bottle and he puts it in your hand “Slow,” you say before he can, “I know. Ezra, why are you here? You got your new arm, I got my breathers out and Cee’s got her schooling. We got the agreement set. Third time pays for all, so why are you here?” “Cause I did you dirtier than that cache of pearls could ever pay for,” says Ezra, “And you shouldn’t be all on your own right now.” You want to say something back, but you’re so tired, even the act of speaking has made you tired right down to your bones, chest and throat screaming in protest, and your eyes scrim over with tears. One escapes and Ezra strokes it aside with the pad of his thumb. “I pushed the call button, Kitten, they’ll be here soon.” “Not your fuckin Kitten,” you say as Ezra folds your hand warm in his, “Not your friend.” “I know.” i know.

#year of kisses #year of themes 2023 #yeah yeah it's 2024 #what am i supposed to do time travel about it?#ezra x f!reader with cee #prospect 2018 #prospect fanfic

42 notes · View notes