#ezra x reader

[ak-vintage]

Wash & Fold

Pairing: Ezra x f!reader

Prompt: Two strangers discover they’ve been swapping items unknowingly through a communal space, each leaving an X in return until curiosity forces a meeting.

Summary: After discovering some unfamiliar clothes in your laundry (and losing some of your own in return), you begin exchanging messages with another resident in your apartment complex.

Word Count: 15.5K

Tags & Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Modern AU, unspecified age gap (Ezra is intended to be older, but use your own imagination on how much older), no use of Y/N, minimal descriptions of reader character, second-person POV, reader is getting over a recent breakup, mildly pervy Ezra, pleasure dom Ezra, SMUT (dry humping, vaginal fingering, squirting, biting, unprotected P in V sex, overstimulation, creampie, Ezra’s filthy yapping and filthy fucking).

Written for @jolapeno’s Dear-uary Epistolary Writing Challenge. Dividers by @saradika-graphics.

Read on AO3 | Main Masterlist

You have never considered yourself to be an especially domestic person.

Sure, you are a decent cook, but the handful of recipes you rotate between each week require little in the way of culinary skills. The ingredients are simple and cheap, the prep work is minimal, and the actual cooking involves nothing more than a couple of burners on the stovetop or perhaps a slow cooker if you’re feeling especially ambitious. The final products are always serviceable, but nothing more complex or skillful than what a college student might be able to achieve in their first apartment.

You’re a reluctant cleaner, as well. Your dishes tend to pile in the sink for days before you work up the gumption to scrub them, and you’re embarrassed to admit to the amount of time you have gone without vacuuming your carpets or mopping your kitchen floor. When you make plans to have friends over – or god forbid a date – you often have been guilty of racing around your apartment at the last possible minute, frantically cleaning things that ought to have been cleaned ages ago. It seems the potential shame of someone else thinking you lived in a messy home is the only motivator strong enough to get you into gear.

But there is perhaps one domestic task in which you find genuine joy. Laundry.

You love the ritual of it – the simple satisfaction of sorting, the methodical, repetitive action of folding, the tidy little piles of underwear and socks and pajamas and jeans spread out over the surface of your bed as you worked. You love watching the way your dresser goes from barren to pleasingly full as the soft drone of your current audiobook or a favorite podcast drifts through your headphones. You even love the scent of your detergent – it’s a small luxury, but you notice it every time you open your closet, and it never fails to make you smile.

Every Sunday morning, the routine is the same, and with it comes a meditative calm that always helps you center and reset yourself for the coming week. You’ve found yourself leaning on the consistency, the predictability of it all even moreso in recent weeks, which is why when you encounter a peculiar piece of clothing mixed in with your clean laundry, still warm from the dryer downstairs, you almost toss the thing straight into the garbage.

It's a large men’s sock – charcoal gray, crew length, and heavily worn. It sports two holes, one in the toe and one in the heel, and the knit fabric has pilled so intensely that from far away, it almost looks speckled. A ragged piece of clothing if you’ve ever seen one and nothing like anything in your own wardrobe. Instantly, you presume it must be his.

The mere thought of him leaves a bad taste in your mouth, and you eye the offending sock with reproach. Eight months of your life wasted on a man who could never seem to remember your takeout order, who called your master’s degree cute, who always had some new excuse to not introduce you to the gaggle of fellow finance bros constantly blowing up his phone and filling his evenings with cocktail hours and “networking events.”

Looking back on it now, you can be more honest with yourself about all the things you had ignored in the moment – all the little red flags that might have been passable on their own but combined with everything else painted a picture of a man who saw you as a convenience rather than a privilege, a little something to be kept on the side, held at arm’s length until he grew bored of you and moved on. And he had moved on, in the tritest way possible – with an intern from his office named Kyleigh.

You are eager to do the same, to pack the lackluster memories of him away in a box and shove that box so far into the back of your mind that you forget it even exists. This sock, sticking out bizarrely in the basket of soft creams and delicate blushes that you favor, has derailed those efforts. You’ve been doing so well avoiding thoughts of him.

You toss it into the paper grocery bag you have tucked into the corner of your bedroom, the one containing the handful of little things you’ve found around your apartment in the three weeks since his departure that you know belong to him. A blue silk tie. A bulky black phone charger that is incompatible with your phone model. A half-used tube of plain, unflavored Chapstick. A dogeared copy of Atomic Habits. And now this sock.

You have no idea how it ended up in your hamper in the first place, but it hardly matters, you decide. You refuse to let the thought of it – or the man it belongs to – darken your peaceful morning any longer. You’ll get the bag of stuff back to him at some point. Until then, he’ll simply have to make do with a missing sock.

What begins as a singular sock, however, quickly becomes more as over the next several weeks, you continue to discover foreign items of clothing in your laundry.

First, another sock, this one navy blue and even more worn than the first, the fabric loose and shapeless with time. Then, a pair of maroon men’s athletic shorts with frayed, raw hems around the legs and worn-out elastic at the waist. A ribbed undershirt in age-patinaed white comes next, and then finally, a true treasure – the softest, most perfectly worn-in gray t-shirt. It is oversized (for you, anyway) and pure cotton, stretched and softened with countless washes and wears so that it pools like butter in your hands, and for the first time, it occurs to you that there is no way that these mysterious items of clothing are relics of your relationship that you had simply missed on your first pass through your apartment to gather his things. Your ex, for one, had had many flaws, but hanging on to shabby, hole-riddled clothing that was nearly falling apart was not one of them. And for another thing, you feel certain that you would have known if your ex had owned a t-shirt like this one while you were together. If he had, you would have stolen it for yourself a long time ago.

For lack of something better to do with them, the navy sock, basketball shorts, and undershirt all make their way into the paper bag anyway. The t-shirt, however, gets folded neatly and added to your pajama drawer. Some poor man in your apartment building may be missing it now, but in a building with over a hundred units and only one basement laundry facility, you cannot imagine the complexities of attempting to reunite it with its owner.

His loss will simply have to be your gain.

The week following the fortuitous discovery of the most perfect t-shirt known to man, you encounter another disruption to your sacred routine, though this time, rather than a mysterious item of clothing somehow joining your basket, it comes in the form of a hand-written note.

The laundry facility in your apartment complex is nothing to speak of, and for as much as you enjoy this particular chore, you prefer to spend as little time in the dingy, windowless room as you can manage. Two rows of stainless steel, coin-operated washers abut each other down the center of the linoleum-tiled square, while matching dryers stack two high and six wide against the far wall. The air there is stuffy, warm and humid and smelling strongly of bleach, and the constant hum and rumble of the machines is almost more than the noise cancelling in your headphones can handle.

Typically, you don’t choose to linger – you grab your favorite washers as quickly as you can manage, and you set a timer on your phone for the duration of the wash so you can return to your apartment to wait out the cycle. Today, however, as you are slotting your collection of quarters into your machines, something out of place catches your eye.

Stuck to the wall of dryers is a crumpled piece of lined paper, clearly ripped from a spiralbound notebook and scribbled on in haste. You cock your head at the sight, frowning. You’re certain it must have been left by a fellow resident, for any messages from the complex’s management would have at least been typed and printed out.

Internally, you roll  your eyes – how often had a passive aggressive note left in a common area actually resulted in changed behavior? You came across them on occasion, in the mail room or in the lounge or in one of the elevators, and whatever it was the poster was disgruntled about only ever seemed to worsen after that. Still, once you have your washers going, you can’t help but approach the dryers to get a better look at the curious thing.

Your suspicions are quickly confirmed – it is from another tenant, written in a tight, hurried scrawl in dry, patchy blue ink and taped to the steel face of one of the dryers with a raggedly-torn piece of masking tape. It reads:

You find yourself quirking a puzzled smile as you read, the corners of your lips curling up at the writer’s flowery word choice. It’s almost comically formal for something clearly written in a rush, and the juxtaposition of the courtly language with the humble, jagged-edged notebook paper sparks your intrigue. Of course, there’s also the matter of the handful of mysterious garments you have been collecting. You can’t help but wonder whether this…loquacious neighbor of yours is the owner of the scruffy clothing items slowly collecting dust in the corner of your bedroom.

That would be another odd comparison, you think. That someone so meticulous with their words should be so careless with their clothing. You suppose you shouldn’t judge – perhaps he simply cannot afford to replace his things when they wear through. But still, you can’t reconcile the image you have created in your mind of the author of this note with the unkempt man who owns the clothes that keep ending up in your laundry.

It might be worth responding if only to satisfy your growing curiosity.

When you return to the laundry room to move your clothes from the washers to the dryers, you bring with you a bright pink, oversized sticky note from your favorite stationary set and attach it to the wrinkled piece of notebook paper.

Your curiosity drives you back down into the laundry room the next day.

It’s rare for you to deviate from your routine like this, but there’s something that feels almost fantastical about this nameless, faceless exchange. The author of that note might be someone you have encountered a thousand times without ever knowing.

The thought inspires your imagination, makes you think of fairytales and fate and all kinds of other childish things. Perhaps you have crossed paths with this stranger – with their funny, fanciful language and their unkempt presentation – in the mail room or in the elevator or outside the leasing office. You trade courteous hellos and the occasional polite smile with your neighbors when you see them, but you have never intentionally sought any of them out before. This person could be anyone, and that has you making your way back to the basement long before your next planned laundry day.

The moment you enter the stuffy, grimy little room, your eyes go straight for the wall of dryers where the last note was left. A smile splits your face almost immediately. The note from yesterday is gone, as is your bright pink reply. In their place, another torn piece of notebook paper has been left, this time stuck to the face of the dryer with a clear strip of packing tape. More secure, more intentional, like whoever had left it had intended for it to be able to stick in place for a long time even in the humid, poorly-ventilated space.

Drawing your lower lip between your teeth in anticipation, you’re thankful to be the only person in the room as you eagerly dart over to read it.

In the same hurried penmanship as the previous note, this one reads:

A rush of satisfaction floods you as you read. This is the mysterious owner of the clothes you’ve been finding! You must have a washer or dryer preference in common, you think, if his belongings continue to be mixed in with yours. You can see how it could happen, particularly if he was in a rush. A dark colored sock left in the bottom of the drum or stuck to the side after a spin cycle wasn’t unheard of.

Perhaps you ought to do a better job of checking your machines before blindly dumping your clothes in…

You also feel confident now that this is, in fact, a man that you’re dealing with, which makes his choice of vocabulary all the more intriguing. Not that there is anything especially feminine about his choice of words, but more that the men you find yourself spending time with tend to get their intellectual stimulation from manosphere podcasts and YouTube comedians. This man writes like a scholar, like a patron of the arts, like a Regency-era lordling. It is as refreshing as it is puzzling, and the sparkling prose combined with the mystery of the whole thing has you feeling rather enchanted.

And, perhaps the greatest victory of all, is that E makes no mention whatsoever of your new favorite t-shirt. The thin, buttery-soft thing has become a staple of your loungewear collection over the last few weeks. The way it falls over your skin so perfectly, the way it wraps itself around you like a friend – you can’t imagine parting with it now. Thankfully, it sounds like you won’t have to.

Pulling your pink pad of sticky notes out of your bag, you excitedly pen your reply.

Several more days pass before your now-daily trips to the laundry room finally bear fruit.

It’s Saturday morning, and rather than finding a new piece of crinkled notebook paper in place of the old, instead you find that someone has written on your pink sticky note, adding their own message to the bottom of the scrap of stationary. You recognize the handwriting immediately, though it’s even more irregular than usual. Scribbled in the lower right corner of the note, it reads:

In cramped, halting, angular strokes, a phone number has been added to the bottom of the note – even smaller than the words he somehow managed to fit on the same sheet of paper as your own. But by some miracle, with a squint and a turn of your head, you’re able to read it, and you pull your phone out of your pocket to quickly save it in your contacts.

laundry neighbor🧦, you call him in your address book with a smirk, and you decide to shoot him a text when you arrive back at your apartment. In the meantime, however, you are quick to yank both of the old notes off of the dryer, crumple them up into a ball, and toss them into the nearby garbage can.

As you catch the elevator back to your floor, you can’t help but wonder about the kind of man who was perfectly comfortable leaving his personal phone number in a public space for anyone to read and do with as they chose, but who drew the line at retrieving a small stack of holey, threadbare clothes from the same public space. You can’t imagine who in their right mind would want to steal the things that you had inadvertently collected from this man over the last several weeks; in fact, you feel confident that if you had ever seen them there while doing your own washing, you wouldn’t have spared them a second thought.

If anything, you think, if they had been left there long enough, I might have taken the liberty of throwing them in the trash.

Still, you suppose there’s no accounting for taste. And E had admitted to being superstitious about the shorts in particular, so perhaps this strange man was simply a creature of habit, one who did not part with such things easily.

A creature of habit who keeps strange hours and writes like someone from a different century. No matter how much you try, you simply cannot make heads or tails of this mysterious man.

Several hours pass before you receive a reply from the enigmatic E. You’re preparing to settle in for the night, a book and a glass of wine in hand, when your phone vibrates in the pocket of your pajama pants. Digging it out, you quirk a curious smile at what you see.

hi e! saw your response to my note about your clothes. when would be a good time for us to meet up so i can get those back to you? Ah! Good morning, little bird! I suppose I should say good evening, though it is my morning. Apologies for the delayed reply. As I mentioned, I keep odd hours. I would be available to meet with you tonight after my shift, if you are amenable? I typically return home around 4 in the morning.

You make no attempt to smother the incredulous laugh that bubbles up in your chest as his suggestion. What kind of person tried to make plans for 4:00 in the morning? You couldn’t imagine dragging yourself out of bed in the middle of the night to meet with a stranger just to hand off a couple socks. Shaking your head, you’re quick to type out a reply.

4 am??? 😳 you weren’t kidding, those are some weird hours 😅 sorry dude i will def be asleep at 4 😪 how about this time tomorrow? if you work nights, would you be awake then?

Three bouncing dots appear at the bottom of the screen, flashing in and out of existence a handful of times before his message finally coalesces.

An astute observation and suggestion. Ordinarily, yes, I would. But unfortunately, I have already agreed to an extended shift tomorrow to cover for a colleague.

A frown knits across your brow, your thumb tapping against the edge of your wine glass as you ponder your options. In your mind, you run through your schedule for the week, matching it up against what little  you know of E’s availability. It’s a challenging fit. A brief flash of irritation passes through you at the strange man’s stubbornness. If only he would allow you to simply leave the clothes in the laundry room – then he could collect them at his leisure, and the issue would resolve itself.

However, as you begin to type up precisely that suggestion (with no small amount of snark), you find yourself pausing.

If you leave the clothes for him to pick up on his own, you may never have the opportunity to meet him, to finally put a face and a voice to the person behind the notes. As it stands, you don’t even know this man’s name, but this odd little exchange easily has become the most entertaining thing to happen to you in a long time. It’s been a nice distraction from the absence of your ex, strangely making you feel a little less alone.

Drawing your lower lip between your teeth in contemplation, you delete the message you had been typing and compose another one instead.

You would put the ball in his court, put the responsibility on him to coordinate a plan for you to connect. The moment the message marks as delivered, you see those bouncing dots appear again. His reply is quick, as though he had been waiting on the other end of the line the whole time you deliberated. The thought has a strange warmth settling in your chest, blooming in your cheeks.

ok no worries. you wanna just text me whenever you’re free and we’ll see when our schedules line up? i’m pretty flexible but it sounds like we might work opposite hours 😅 Indeed, a common occurrence, I’m afraid, but such is the life of a bartender. But yes, I will be in touch. I appreciate you looking after my things until we can arrange a meeting! I am in your debt for your patience.

Your flush deepens at the compliment, and you cannot fight the grin that tugs at your lips. Flatterer, you think to yourself.

not a problem! we’ll make it work eventually 😊

Not ten seconds passes, and then:

Looking forward to it, little bird. Enjoy the rest of your evening. you too 😊 have a good shift

Good morning, little bird! The sun is rising, and I am preparing to retire. Do you perhaps wish to meet in the lobby before then? I’m unsure of your schedule, but I know many of the other tenants are departing for work at this time. sorry e 🙁 I left about 20 min ago, got a workout class on monday mornings. sleep well!

Thoughts of the man who has ostensibly become your pen pal linger at the back of your mind throughout your work day. It’s been a while since you received a “good morning” text from anyone, though you are quick to scold yourself for the little flutter that thought sets off in your stomach.

You think of the appalling collection of socks and lounge clothes, now removed from the bag of your ex’s belongings and taking pride of place on your kitchen counter, right next to the entrance to your apartment. That, truly, is all you know about him, you remind yourself – that he wears socks with holes in them and shorts with no elastic and undershirts with pit and neck stains. Not exactly the most appealing prospect.

Not that there ought to be anything appealing about him. He could be barely out of school. He could be an old man. He could be married. If his glittering prose and flattering pet names have charmed you, then you have no one but yourself and your own fanciful imagination to blame.

Of course, none of these musings stop you from shooting off a quick text to him on your way home from work.

hey! i’m headed home now, you awake? could meet up downstairs in 15?

To your disappointment, your message remains unread for several more hours. It isn’t until you’re queueing up your third episode of your favorite syndicated reality show, wrapped in a blanket and cradling a late-night bowl of ice cream in your lap, that you receive a response.

Apologies once again, birdie. By the time I noticed your message, I was already in the car. Thank you for keeping in contact – your diligence for a neighbor you do not even know is admirable. lol i try 🤷‍♀️ 😊

The next time you hear from E, it is early in the morning. You’re barely awake, eyes still bleary as you prepare yourself a cup of coffee, and the notification that greets you when you open your phone for the first time is two new messages from him, sent a couple hours ago.

I am certain you will not see this until morning, but be cautious using the northeast elevator tomorrow. It is making the most bizarre noise, and the door is rather sluggish on opening. Just now, I was nearly unable to fit through to exit the car when I reached my floor. I have informed maintenance, but I am sure you know as well as I how long it takes that old codger to get anything done. If it is not blocked for use by the time you leave tomorrow, I would suggest waiting until the other is available.

Your chest warms at the consideration, that he would have such a harrowing experience and think to warn you against it. Fully awake now, you thumb a reply and send it off, hoping he sees it when he wakes tonight for his shift.

omg thanks for the heads up! glad you’re okay and didn’t get stuck!

Later, after safely making your way downstairs and over to the parking deck, you cannot seem to stop yourself from sending another.

there is an out of service sign on it now, thank god! have a good sleep e!

[Attached: JPG] fyi reno crew in the lobby today. idk if you have your car in the deck but you may wanna take the side exit and walk around. the workers gave me a dirty look for walking on the unsealed floor lol Awful rude of them. You couldn’t have known. If management didn’t want tenants in the lobby today, perhaps they ought to have put up proper signage. Thank you for the message, birdie. I will do as you suggested. I hope you had a pleasant day at work. …what is it that you do for a living, if you don’t mind my asking? i’m a librarian 🤓 📚 !!! Forgive my ineloquence. I was unaware I have been corresponding with a scholar! lmao says the man who writes like someone out of an austen novel I will take that as a compliment! Do you enjoy it? the way you talk or being a librarian? 😉 Clever girl. 😏 Both. Either. yes very much! to both 😇 and how do you know i’m a girl? all you know for sure is we live in the same building. i could be anyone 👀 The way you speak is decidedly feminine, though you’re right, I should not make such assumptions. I apologize if I have offended you. No disrespect was intended. 😂 you’re fine, just giving you a hard time. you assumed correctly anyway how about you? do you enjoy what you do? It certainly is not my first choice of occupation, but it pays enough for me to make my way through the world, which is a privilege in itself. It also helps that I am quite good at it, if I do say so myself. lol nothing wrong with knowing yourself! what would be your first choice? if not bartending? I would be an academic. I do love books. well if you ever find yourself awake during normal business hours you’re welcome at the library anytime. we have a few of those 😉 Cheeky bird.

Things continue in this vein for several more days – courteous, neighborly messages about things happening around the complex that turn into brief, companionable conversations. Missed offers to meet, incompatible schedules, sleep and work and fitness classes and plans with friends somehow always seeming to come at the worst possible moments. You find yourself equal parts aggravated and entertained by what has turned into a never-ending game of phone tag with someone who you still, somehow, have never met. It wasn’t exactly what you had signed up for when you responded to the bedraggled little note in the laundry room, but you couldn’t say you were disappointed at how things had turned out.

At this point, the novelty of the clothes taking up space on your kitchen counter has faded, the little pile melting into the background and simply becoming part of your daily scenery, and every time you see E’s moniker and the little sock emoji come across your phone screen, you can’t help but smile. It’s been the best distraction you could have asked for, though a part of you knows that such a sentiment is leaning further away from whimsical and more toward delusional.

Perhaps that’s why when the charming, fresh-faced barista at your favorite coffee shop finally works up the gumption to ask for your number, you give it to him.

Perhaps that’s why when that same barista asks you out for dinner and drinks, you agree.

Little bird, I have tremendous news! The coworker whose shift I covered a while back has offered to return the favor. I am available this evening to collect my laundry from you. When would be best for us to meet? oh e i’m sorry ☹️ this would have been a great night for it too! but i actually have a date. i’ll be gone most of the evening. I see. Not to worry, birdie. I hope you enjoy yourself. thanks 😊 i hope so too lol

You’re nothing but a lump of dry mouth and regret the next morning when the cheerful little buzz of your phone draws you out from under the downy refuge of your blankets. Your curtains are pulled tight, though a bit of the late morning sunshine still manages to spill through the gaps around the window frame, and you frown at it venomously as though your stare could will the light to dampen itself in spite of the idyllic weather.

Dragging the brightness of your phone screen all the way down, you open your notifications with a grumble.

How do you fare this morning? [Attached: GIF] Haha! That well? Not the pleasant evening you were hoping for, little bird? date was boring he was so boring drank too much trying to make it fun Ah, I see. In my experience, a good breakfast and an electrolyte-boosting beverage would do you well.

You glance over at your bedside table where two bottles of pale blue liquid sit, leaving rings of condensation on the painted wood surface. One is half empty, the other still unopened.

doordashed a couple bottles of gatorade. too hungover to make breakfast.

Less than 30 seconds later, another notification appears at the top of your screen.

Venmo: @Ezra-1982 paid you $20 “🍳🥓🥞” Order yourself the “Farmer’s Combo” from the diner on 35th. Have them add cheddar to the scrambled eggs. You will not regret it.

Ezra.

His name is Ezra.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, forcing the fog from your throbbing head, you tap out your reply as quickly as you can manage.

omg you did not have to do that Perhaps not, but you deserve nothing less after such a lackluster experience.

The unexpected generosity has you melting, as does the sweetness of his words. After the disappointment of your first foray back into the dating world, such kindness from a total stranger was equally surprising and moving. It makes you want to share it all with him, to explain in detail all of the various ways in which the barista had been a terrible choice. His stilted manner, his excessive fondness for vodka Redbulls, his awkward sense of humor…

ugh you can say that again he sucked so bad e omg idk why i said yes to him in the first place

His sloppy mouth, his grabby hands, his clumsy fingers, his complete lack of interest in making sure you came…

The way he had completely and utterly failed to keep quiet as he stumbled out the door in the middle of the night.

def should not have brought him home

You pause for a moment, the words of your most recent message staring back at you from your phone screen as though taunting you. The blush rising in your cheeks is enough to make your blankets feel suddenly stifling, and your stomach drops at the realization that E – Ezra, your neighbor, a man you have never met but on whom you are quickly developing a bit of a schoolgirl crush – is going to read it. The two of you have never discussed anything like this before. Even in your little occasional flirtations, there has never been even the suggestion of anything sexual.

This unknown stranger really does not need to know anything about your sex life, you decide.

However, just as you are about to recall the message, you watch in horror as the “delivered” status flips to “read.”

A wave of nerves floods your system, pushing out the last of the grogginess still clouding your mind, and try as you might, you can think of no excuse you could spin, no joke you could tell.

shit was hoping you hadn’t read that yet Alas, little bird. There is no need to be embarrassed. sorry idk why i’m trying to gossip w/ you like one of my girlfriends. plz forget i said anything i don’t wanna make this any weirder

For a handful of long, tense moments, your message remains unanswered. You watch, vaguely nauseous, as the three bouncing dots appear, then disappear, then reappear again. After a breathlessly long time of no typing at all, another notification pops up at the top of your screen.

Venmo: @Ezra-1984 paid you $5 “☕” Add a latte to your order from the diner. I find that everything looks a bit brighter after a good cup of coffee. Even a night of disappointing congress.

Your cheeks flare to life once again, the flush reaching from the tips of your ears down your neck to your chest. “Congress,” he called it. What a classy, delicate word for the sweaty, inept fumbling you had experienced last night in this very bed.

Which reminds you. You need to wash your sheets.

💀💀💀 thank you e 🙈💗

[Attached: JPG] holy shit this food is incredible. it’s bringing me back to life. also 10/10 recommendation on the eggs and the latte. you’re the best e, thank you You’re most welcome, little bird. Be gentle with yourself today. i will 🤗

any chance i could grab you before you go to work tonight? feeling much more human, got your clothes all ready to go by the door I have underestimated you, birdie. I must stop doing that. I did not assume you would have any interest in social interaction today given the state you were in this morning. I am already at the bar. ah ok no worries i really will get your clothes back to you, e. i promise. I know you will, sweetheart. I trust you.

You feel a bit crazed as you dig through the drawers of your dresser, rummaging through the neatly folded piles of clothing with such frustrated carelessness that you know you’re going to have to reorganize it all later. It isn’t like you to misplace something like this – you’re meticulous about your clothes, far more so than you are in any other area of your life (except perhaps your work). The idea of anything just up and disappearing from your wardrobe is unheard of.

Perhaps, if it were anything else, it wouldn’t bother you so much. Perhaps, if tomorrow was any other day, you wouldn’t mind choosing something else to wear. But it does, and you do.

You have another date tomorrow night.

Not a repeat of the disastrous liaison with the barista, thank god, but a friend of a friend, someone you encountered occasionally at parties or bars who often offered to buy you drinks and smiled at you a little too long to be strictly friendly. You had never taken his flirtations especially seriously, but after the unmitigated failure that was your last attempt at getting back into the dating scene, your ego admittedly is feeling a bit bruised. It makes you willing to give him a real shot. Even if it winds up being underwhelming, you feel certain that anything would be better than the fucking barista.

Which means that you need those god-forsaken panties.

They’re your favorites – the cheeky, lacy, baby pink pair that stretched over your skin so softly, that framed the globes of your ass so delicately you couldn’t help but feel every inch a woman in them.

Pulling them on over your hips is a one-way ticket to feeling your sexiest, most feminine self, and you can’t imagine going on a first date without them to boost your confidence. And you just washed them – they should be right at the top of the pile, nestled precisely in your top dresser drawer, exactly where they belong. And yet…they aren’t.

Collapsing onto your bed in an aggravated heap, you tug your phone out of the pocket of your lounge shorts. Opening your messages, you tap on your conversation with E and fire off a quick text before you can think better of it. The flush that follows arrives not far behind, part of you a bit mortified at what you’re about to ask your faceless neighbor. But you’re desperate, and you know he will help you if he can.

i have a longshot of a question for you Please, shoot! did you happen to do laundry last night? I did, indeed! Why do you ask? did you use the same washers and dryers you normally do? I always use the same machines. You’ve got me terribly curious now, little bird. What’s this about? would you mind checking your dried clothes for me? i seem to be the one missing something this time. i know the chances of them ending up with you are slim but i had to at least ask lol Of course, hold on a beat.

A few tense, nerve-wracking minutes pass as you stare at your phone, tapping your foot anxiously, chewing on your lower lip as you wait. You doubt he has them. What would be the chances? Your apartment building has over a hundred units – there was no way with all of the other residents whose faces you had never seen, whose names you did not know, that E had been the one to use the same machines directly after you.

And yet…what if he had?

What if your favorite panties are currently tangled in his laundry basket, all mixed up with his well-loved shirts and shorts and jeans and socks? What if he goes to check for them, and the little flash of baby pink peeks out at him from between the grays and the navys and the olive greens, all feminine and delicate and sweet?

What if this mysterious man, who calls you his “little bird” and who has managed to thoroughly charm you over notes and texts and money for coffee, was about to catch a glimpse of your underwear for the first time, and you’re not even there to see his face when he does?

[Attached: JPG] You wouldn’t happen to be missing these delicious little things, would you, birdie?

And there they are – draped over a calloused palm, dangling from thick, long, achingly masculine fingers. The blushing pink color of the lacy fabric contrasts stunningly with his tanned skin, and although you wouldn’t describe yourself as being particularly petite, the size of his hand somehow manages to make them look delicate in his grip.

The flush in your cheeks spreads instantly, making your ears burn, your chest feel tight and hot. Low in your abdomen, something stirs, something that had woken a handful of other times before – like when he had called you a “clever girl” or a “cheeky bird.” You had wondered then – what this man looked like, what he sounded like, whether he was as attractive in reality as you pictured him in your mind. Even without seeing his face, you feel now you know with certainty. You don’t have to wonder anymore.

Anyone with hands like that would turn your head. Knowing they were attached to someone who spoke to you like someone out of a regency-era novel is the final straw.

omg e Am I to take that as a yes? yeah those are mine 💀🙈 Are you at home, by chance?

You frown, your heartrate picking up as it beats a tattoo against the insides of your ribs.

yeah i’m here. why? Well, I am clearly in the building, as well. I will be for the rest of the evening. Would you be amenable to coming over? I would happily come to you if you would prefer, but I would understand if you wish for your precise unit number to remain unknown.

Oh, god.

You take a deep, steadying breath and will your hands not to shake at the sudden wave of nerves twisting your belly into knots. He wants to meet you. Finally. And right now.

ok. yeah i’ll come to you if that’s okay Of course. I’m in apartment 802. Come on over whenever you’re ready.

The frown between your brows deepens. 802? You’re in unit 902. Is it possible…

Has E been directly beneath you this entire time? Is it possible that not only does he share a building with you, but he is your downstairs neighbor?

wait. 802??? …yes?

He is. E – Ezra, your correct yourself (if you’re going to meet the man, you ought to be able to call him by his name) – lives directly below you. At least you know precisely how to get to him, you muse as you type out your response.

ok just making sure. be there in 10.

The next few minutes are spent in a flurry – brushing your teeth, fluffing your hair, refreshing your perfume, and confirming that you haven’t accumulated any unknown stains on your favorite oversized gray t-shirt or your shorts. You contemplate briefly whether you should change your clothes before making your way down to Ezra’s apartment, but ultimately you decide against it. Your lounge clothes are cute, and wouldn’t it be odd, you think, to show up on his doorstep looking like you felt the need to dress up for something when he knows your routine enough by now to know that you wouldn’t be leaving the complex today?

As you tuck your bare feet into your favorite pair of slides, you consider that you might be overthinking things.

It takes you another minute to gather your phone, your keys, and the small stack of his clothes that you are embarrassed to note has started to collect a fine layer of dust. The sight serves as a stark reminder of what this really is, all it has ever really been – a neighbor doing a favor for another neighbor. The return of items lost, even though the loss was weeks ago now. That is all your acquaintance with Ezra really is, at the end of the day. It’s friendly, but it is also impersonal.

These reminders to yourself ring hollow in your mind as you make your way to the stairwell. You don’t believe them, and you can’t help but hope that Ezra won’t, either.

The man that answers the door of apartment 802 looks both exactly like and nothing like you pictured.

He opens the door with confidence, an open and charming smile splitting his face the moment he lays eyes on you. He takes you in with a sweep of his dark, soulful eyes, tanned skin crinkling at their corners as he grins, and nothing could have prepared you for the way your heart begins to race as you do the same. Fuck, he is so handsome. Wild, dark brown hair, shorter on the sides and back than on the top, sticking up every which way with a single shock of blonde directly over his right eye. A prominent, Romanesque nose perched over a pair of full, soft-looking lips. Patchy, scruffy facial hair. A thin, pale scar twisting across his left cheek.

He looks like a creative, like a scoundrel – an artist or an activist or a rebellious academic who refuses to play by the rules. Precisely your type, you think, heat pooling low in your belly.

As you take in his attire, it immediately becomes apparent that the clothes you hold in your hands are an excellent representation of the rest of his wardrobe. He’s barefoot, a pair of navy-blue athletic shorts hanging low and loose on his narrow hips, and the black t-shirt that stretches snugly across his impossibly broad chest is heavily faded with many washes and sports several tiny holes along the seams.

Another hole, this one much larger than the rest, reveals itself as he shifts to rest his arm high against the doorframe. Leaning over you with casual self-assurance, the man tracks the way your gaze immediately darts to his underarm with the move. You can see the thick, dark hair of his armpit through the gap in the fabric, and the strangely intimate sight almost instantly brings a flush to your cheeks.

“Well, now,” he croons, slow and long and with an accent that flusters you even more. “Either you’ve found yourself on the wrong doorstep, or you must be the mysterious little bird that’s been chirping so sweetly in my ear every day for the last month.” He drops his grip on the old brass doorknob and extends his hand to you. It’s the same hand that had been photographed holding your panties mere minutes before – big, broad-palmed, calloused. “Name’s Ezra. What’s yours, birdie?”

You accept the handshake with minimal hesitation, offering him your name in return. “I’m, uh. I’m glad we could finally make this work,” you stammer. “I was kind of starting to feel like I had taken your stuff hostage.” 

To that, Ezra chuckles, and the warm rasp of the sound settles itself somewhere beneath your navel. “Your willingness to be so flexible and communicative is deeply appreciated,” he drawls. “I’m sure most people in your position wouldn’t have been so accommodating.”

The earnestness of his words has you feeling almost bashful as you quickly reassure him, “Oh, I didn’t mind, really. You were the one who had to go without your stuff for this long. It was the least I could do.”

“See, that is precisely what I mean. Sweet as sugar and twice as lovely.” The man winks, offering you another charismatic smile, and you can’t smother the flustered chuckle that bubbles up in your chest.

There is a moment then when the two of you stand in silence – just the span of a heartbeat where you look at each other through the archway of his apartment door, him inside, you outside, each of you sizing up the other, quietly putting a face to all of the little pleasantries you’ve exchanged over the past weeks. That moment stretches, becomes two, and you watch as something akin to a blush, the first vulnerability he has displayed thus far, blooms across the tips of his ears.

Just before the quiet begins to edge into awkwardness, Ezra claps his hands and steps back away from the doorframe, sweeping his arms in a wide, beckoning gesture.

“Well, let us not delay any longer, shall we?” he says brightly. “Come, birdie, step inside, and I’ll retrieve your own garments which have gone astray.”

You hesitate only a moment before accepting his invitation, and as you cross the threshold, he closes the door behind you. You think that perhaps the sound of the knob catching in its place ought to make you nervous – after all, you have never really met this man before today and now here you are, alone with him in his home. But instead, the way your pulse picks up speed feels more like anticipation than fear.

As you hover in the narrow entryway, you notice that the floorplan of his unit is perfectly identical to yours. The open kitchen, the modest living room, the short hallway down which you knew you would find a single bedroom and bathroom. You’ve never been inside another unit in this building before, and it feels almost surreal as you take in a space that bears so many resemblances to your own while still very clearly being inhabited by someone else.

Ezra seems oblivious to your observations. Instead, he is all business as he retreats without preamble down the hallway toward his bedroom. You stare after him, confused for an instant as to why he would just leave you alone, but then you realize –

Your panties are in his bedroom.

Trying desperately to distract yourself from that brain-melting thought, you allow yourself to glance around the place. Your first impression is of the almost overwhelming number of plants that take up the living space. You recognize a few – snake plants and ZZ plants in mismatched pots on every available flat surface, spider plants and pothos dangling from macrame hangers in front of the windows, a lush monstera taking up most of the western corner, a fiddle-leaf fig standing sentinel by the sliding glass door. The rest you couldn’t even begin to guess at, but the overall effect is one of a vibrant oasis of greenery, and you can’t help but be impressed.

“Wow, you have so many plants!” you gasp, wandering deeper into the apartment as you marvel at your surroundings.

Ezra’s voice is muffled as he replies from the bedroom, “Indeed. This side of the building gets such abundant sunshine during the day, but I don’t often have the opportunity to enjoy it. It somehow feels less wasteful to know that another living thing is reaping the benefits.”

“Huh. Never thought about it like that.” You feel a charmed smile tugging at your mouth. “Maybe I should get a few.”

His decorating taste is clearly eclectic, almost every item found in the dusty labyrinth of a thrift store or at an estate sale. There’s a vintage sofa in burnt orange corduroy that has plainly seen better days, a cracked leather armchair that looks like it once belonged in the study of some wealthy professor, and an overflowing bookshelf stuffed to the brim with books of all sizes and levels of wear. Butted up against the kitchen island is a little 1960s dining table with a single chair, the surface of which is littered with several abandoned, half-drunk cups of coffee. You also can’t help but smirk as you notice the chunky green ashtray on the coffee table in the very center of the living room with a partially-smoked joint resting in the middle.

“It’s quite a rewarding past time. I would encourage anyone with the time and the interest to try their hand at plant guardianship.” He emerges from the bedroom as he speaks, the smallest scrap of pale pink lace visible in the clench of his right fist. “Does your dwelling get light such as this?” he asks, gesturing at the tall windows, the sliding door leading out onto the balcony, the streaming sunlight painting the room a pale gold.

The question jerks you back to the present, reminds you why you’re here and of the strange coincidence you had discovered just before coming down to meet him.

“Actually… You know, it��s funny. Mine is almost exactly the same.”

Ezra quirks a dark, prominent brow at you, his expression pleasantly interested. “Is that so?”

“It’s, uh. Actually why I wanted to verify your unit number.” You rub the back of your neck, suddenly feeling strangely self-conscious. “I’m in 902.”

The man goes still at your confession, and the look of intrigue on his face shifts to a frown. He’s quiet for a moment, pursing his lips, before echoing, “…902?”

You nod. “Yeah. I’m directly above you.” Pointing to the white, spackled surface over your heads, you add, “My floor is your ceiling.”

A pause, and then a slow, creeping grin spreads across his roguish face, warping the thin white scar across his cheek. His dark eyes shine with something like awe as he murmurs, “Fascinating.”

“I know! What are the chances, right?”

“You are the unfortunate neighbor who has such abysmal luck with men.”

All good humor leaves your body then, and you find yourself blinking dumbly back him. His unexpected words hang in the air for a moment, and as you take a deep breath, you manage to stammer, “…What?”

Ezra’s grin transforms into something closer to a smirk, a knowing gleam darkening his gaze. “There was a man a while back, a frequent visitor. I could hear the weight of his footsteps often.” With slow, even steps, he approaches you, closing the distance between you with every word he drawls. “And sometimes, on the weekends, I would be woken from my sleep during the day to the sound of your bedframe squeaking and scraping across the floor, directly above me. You put on quite the performance for him, all those little cries and moans.” His words have the gentle flush you’ve worn since he opened the door flaring to life once again, and you fight the urge to cover your cheeks with your palms, to hide your eyes from his.

“Did he ever figure out that they were all fabricated?” he rasps, leaning into your space as he comes to stand before you. He whispers the question like something asked in the strictest confidence, like the two of you are gossiping together over a bottle of wine or a pot of tea. It’s ingratiating as much as it is humiliating, and the casual intimacy is enough to have your stomach clenching in your abdomen.

“I-I don’t know what you mean.” Your words lack conviction even to your own ears. You have never been a skilled liar, but this attempt is truly abysmal.

Deep wrinkles form between Ezra’s brows as he frowns at you, his tone taking on the soft timbre of reproach. “Oh, come now, little bird. I know the difference between manufactured pleasure and the real thing. Now, the unfortunate boy you drunkenly brought back to your domicile a few nights ago, the one that you said, and I quote, ‘sucked so bad.’ You didn’t even attempt such a performance for him, though if I recall, he was rather loud.” He looks you up and down, that perceptive gaze tracing from the top for your head to the tips of your toes and back again. “And it’s no wonder you did not find your rapture with him, birdie, he lacked all sense of rhythm.”

Involuntarily, you are thrown back to that regrettable night – the awkward barista’s sharp, angular body hovering over you, his too-wet kisses, his grabby, wandering hands, his irregular thrusts, the barely-lukewarm interest all of it inspired…

You do cover your cheeks then, spinning on your heel to break his all-too-discerning stare. “Oh…my god.”

But Ezra is undeterred. He continues, “When we conversed the next morning, I did think it an odd coincidence that you should describe such an underwhelming night when I knew for certain my upstairs neighbor had had much the same experience. Imagine my surprise to learn that it was not a coincidence at all.”

Swallowing thickly, you shake your head, as though the motion might erase the last few moments and somehow bring you back to a time when you did not know that this man – your neighbor, your friend, the person you have been casually crushing on in spite of never having seen him before today – has not only been hearing you have sex for the last several months but also has known all this time that it was bad sex. Somehow that little detail makes it all the more appalling, though you aren’t certain you could explain how.

“This is mortifying,” you mutter, almost to yourself, the words coming out smothered and strange as you slip your fingers over your eyes, palms pressing against your mouth.

Before you manage to disappear into yourself, however, a large, warm, calloused hand wraps itself around one of your wrists and draws your hand away from your face.

“Nonsense, birdie, nothing at all to be embarrassed about.” His voice is low and gentle as he bids you to look at him. “If anyone ought to feel any humiliation in this scenario, it ought to be those incompetent fools granted the unparalleled privilege of getting the share the bed of a kind, intelligent, and heart-stoppingly beautiful young woman such as yourself.”

Your brows draw upward in surprise, and you drop both your hands, thoroughly disarmed and taken aback by his words. “T-Thank you, E. You’re sweet.”

Shifting on his feet, the man inches just that little bit closer to you, enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off of him, enough that you’re overwhelmed by the scent of him. Something woodsy and green, deep and fresh and colored with an inescapable undertone of sweat. You think it ought to be repellant, being this close to a strange man who undeniably smells like he didn’t bother to put any deodorant on this morning, but instead, it just makes you feel a little weak in the knees.

 Ezra smells like a man, like a sweaty man in the middle of a dense, evergreen forest, and it makes some primal part of you, deep inside, ache and throb and want.

You startle softly as he gently takes ahold of your chin between his thumb and forefinger, the touch pulling you out of your reverie and forcing you to meet his eyes. God, his skin is so warm, his dark brown eyes so beautiful and earnest. You couldn’t look away even if you wanted to.

“Far as I can tell,” he croons, his accent elongating and softening his words in a way that has your heartbeat stuttering, “it’s been a tragically long time since you were properly satisfied. And that’s just a cryin’ shame.”

With the most delicate pressure, he slowly, tenderly tugs your chin forward and upward. You can feel his breath on your cheek, on your lips, hot and damp and smelling of spearmint. The sensation has your eyelids flagging, your mouth parting. He’s so close now, a hairsbreadth away. You wonder what his stubble will feel like, whether it will leave friction burns on the tender skin of your jaw.

You’ve never slept with a man with facial hair before, you think to yourself. Would he leave those same burns under your breasts, on the insides of your thighs, too?

The moment the thought crosses your mind, you rip yourself out of his grip with a gasp, practically throwing yourself backward and colliding with the edge of the coffee table. The edge catches against the backs of your calves, and you stumble, rattling the ash tray and sending the half-smoked joint rolling across the table.  

“Birdie! Are you – ”

You brush off his concern, retreat to the kitchen in a flurry of excuses.

You don’t know this man, you remind yourself, willing your heartbeat to stop racing, the space between your thighs to stop throbbing. Prior to five minutes ago, you had never even seen his face, and you were about to kiss him? And not only that, but you’re already thinking about fucking him?

Sure, the E you knew was kind. Intelligent, well-mannered, thoughtful. Wickedly funny. All things you looked for in a potential partner. But was all of that real? Was this man – Ezra – the same man you thought you knew?

He follows you into the kitchen, handsome face pinched with contrition, dark eyes wide and shining. “I apologize if I – ”

But you do not let him finish. Instead, you gather up the little pile of clothes you had brought for him and thrust them in his direction. “Here – your clothes,” you say hurriedly, avoiding his eyes. “All the socks, the undershirt, and the shorts. So if I could just get my – ”

This time, it is Ezra who cuts you off. “Your lacy little unmentionables?”

He opens his fist, and you watch as your favorite pair of panties tumbles from his grip and dangles tantalizingly in mid-air, his thick index finger threaded through the gusset.

Abandoning his stack of laundry on the kitchen counter, you lunge for them, but he sees you coming a mile away. He yanks them out of your reach before your fingers can close around them, like a child on the playground teasing another with a coveted toy, and you stare at him incredulously.

“Ah, ah,” he tsks, his smile placid, almost smug as he watches your frustration and embarrassment grow. “You know, until I saw you on my doorstep, I wasn’t certain, but now that you’re here, I’m afraid there’s one more thing I’m going to need if you want these delightful delicates back.”

Unsure whether to blame your pounding pulse on anger, humiliation, or arousal, you can do nothing but blink back at him. “What?”

“Your shirt,” he specifies, gesturing to the oversized gray t-shirt currently draped over your frame. “Or, perhaps more accurately, my shirt.”

“This is my shirt,” you snap venomously. You are certain now – it’s anger. It has to be. The audacity of this man –

But Ezra is unperturbed, unmoved by your vitriol. His tone is calm and matter-of-fact as he replies, “No, little bird, it’s mine. Lost about the same time as the rest of articles you recovered from the laundry facility.”

You shake your head in confusion. “But…you never mentioned – in your notes, you always just said – ”

“I know, that it is true, but I was mistaken.” He glances down at the pair of underwear in his hand, allowing the intricate fabric to slip between his fingers and pool in his palm as he speaks. “You see, the shirt you’re wearing is not one I reached for often. It’s even older than those shorts you’ve been looking after for me. It took me well over a week to notice that it had disappeared from my wardrobe, as well.” His eyes flick back up to yours, dark lashes lowering as he studies you. “By that time, you had already established which of my items you had in your possession. It never occurred to me to ask if you had the shirt, as well.”

Your jaw works, mouth opening and closing as you struggle with how to respond. You think back to the day you found this shirt, tangled up in one of your bath towels fresh from the dryer, the same day you had found the sweat-stained undershirt. You couldn’t believe your luck, couldn’t believe the soft, perfectly-aged flawlessness of it – the way it had caressed your skin, the way it draped so effortlessly over your shoulders and skimmed your curves so delicately. It had never once occurred to you that this shirt might have been owned by the same person as the undershirt that had clearly seen better days.

“But… This is my favorite shirt,” you murmur despondently, all the fight leaving you as you run your fingertips over the hem.

Ezra’s gaze follows your touch, tracing across the edge of the shirt with an almost feverish gleam. “I can see why,” he rasps, his tongue coming out to wet his plush lower lip. “It is…enchanting on you. But I really must insist. You see, if I allow you to keep it, I will be plagued for the rest of my days by thoughts of you in this shirt – my shirt. And it will surely drive me mad.”

Your eyes snap to his, and for the first time, you feel as though you are able to glimpse a sliver of the man beneath the fanciful language and the slovenly clothes and the cluttered, eclectic apartment. Ezra has an edge to him, a ferocity he keeps well-hidden, but as he allows himself to take you in, you can see it – something animalistic, something raw and ragged and hungry. You watch as his hand clenches tightly around your panties, his thumb rubbing possessively over the little satin bow on the front, and all at once, the anger and embarrassment warring in your chest falls away, leaving only burning need in its wake.

You had never felt anything like this – this crackling electricity, this smoldering desire – with your ex. And certainly never with that worthless barista. This feels primal, a dangerous compliment to the silliness of the swooning, blushing infatuation you had felt for him before today.

How were you supposed to stand strong, to not give in to him when you had fascination, affection, and lust all working against you?

Did it really matter that you had never seen his face until this afternoon?

You’re certain that your conflict must be showing on your face because Ezra looks ready to charge across the kitchen and throw you up onto the kitchen counter at a single word from you. He’s twitchy and eager, his fingers spasming down by his sides, his fist clenching around your panties so hard you can see his knuckles turning pale.

“Come on now, birdie,” he urges, the stretch of silence almost seeming to cause him physical pain. “Have mercy on an old man and hand it over.”

His words have you swallowing thickly, a wave of heat flooding your chest and spreading to the apex of your thighs. You shift on your feet, pressing  your thighs together in an unconscious search for friction, but he spots it – of course, he does. You watch as a muscle in his jaw jumps at the sight, his nostrils flaring as though to catch a whiff of your scent, and god, there’s that animal again – that feral savagery that you never would have known he possessed if you hadn’t coaxed it out of him. He’s beautiful like this, you think, just on the ragged edge of his self-control; it is that look that has you crossing your arms over your chest and drawing your t-shirt up and over your head.

The man blinks heavily, releasing a long, shuddering breath as you hold the shirt out to him by its collar. You dangle it from your fingertips, just as he had your panties, and he looks on with burning eyes as you let it drop to the floor in a puddle of gray cotton.

“Gods above, girl, look at you.”

You have no more words to describe the look on Ezra’s face. He looks enraptured, like a man in thrall, and you resist the urge to cover yourself. Your plain cotton bralette is easily one of the least glamorous underthings in your collection, but with the way he drinks in your figure, you would think that you had just revealed the most intricate, salacious piece of lingerie the man had ever seen. It makes you feel beautiful, powerful, and in control for the first time since you stepped through his door.

“Happy now?” you ask, your voice coming out weaker, breathier than you had intended. Your words are confident, almost taunting, but your tone betrays that you are just as affected by this game you’re playing as he is.

The smallest hint of a smile quirks the corner of his mouth. “I am, indeed. And yet now I fear I will find myself plagued by thoughts of another subject but a…similar flavor.”

With one last sweep of his gaze, the look like a caress as it trails across your body, he takes a step forward, then another, then another. When he finally stands no more than a handful of inches from you, he crouches down and scoops the abandoned shirt off the tiled kitchen floor. Heart in your throat, pulse in your pussy, you watch as he slowly rises back to his full height, brings the shirt to his face, and inhales.

“Goddammit,” he growls, eyes falling shut as he breathes in the soft fabric. “Smell so sweet, little bird. And it’s still warm.”

Your stomach bottoms out at that, the desperation in his voice like a drug that has your knees weakening beneath you. You’re so wet now; you can feel it slicking your panties, dampening your little cotton shorts.

“Ezra.” It spills softly from your mouth like a plea, unbidden and unashamed, and he nods slowly, eyes still closed, as though drinking in the sound of your need like water. 

“I do so enjoy the sound of my name on your lips,” he admits. He makes no attempt to hide his own hunger anymore, and it calls to the one in you, stoked so confidently and carefully by his words. “Would you like me to see if I can make you say it again?”

Ezra kisses like a man starved. You’ve never experienced a need like his, the heat and the urgency of it a physical thing, dragging its silvered claws along your nerve endings, leaving you with no choice but to melt into him as he ravages your mouth. Desperation drips from his tongue past your lips, radiates from his hands into the very marrow of your bones. There’s something almost unhinged in the way he grips back of your neck, the way he runs his fingers through your hair, the way he eats at your mouth with a decadence that has you whimpering. It’s terrifying and thrilling in equal measure – that he could have such an effect on you so immediately.

He had lamented how long it had been since you had been “properly satisfied.” From the way he touches you, you wonder if he ever has.

“Gods, birdie,” he groans, dragging his mouth across the edge of your jaw to your ear, catching the soft little lobe between his teeth. “The sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted. What divinity is responsible for bringing you to my doorstep?”

You can do nothing but sigh in reply, the heat of his breath on your neck sending sparkling shivers down your spine. You cling to him tighter, dig your nails into the cotton of his T-shirt, and he groans at the dull bite of them embedding themselves in the ropey muscles of his shoulders.

“Hnng – the delicate little bird has claws.” He drops both hands to your ass with a smack, each one taking a broad palmful of your cheeks, and grips you so hard you can feel your pussy lips start to spread with them. Your face burns as you realize that he almost certainly can feel your heat on his fingertips – he’s mere inches from the core of you, the only thing separating his touch from your cunt the thin, damp layers of your shorts and panties.

“You should know…” he murmurs into the soft, vulnerable patch of skin behind your ear. “I am going to wring every. last. ounce. of pleasure out of you. I want to savor every drop of it. And if you even think about attempting to placate me with one of those fake little cries I know you favor, I can assure you, I will know, and I will not stand for it. Do you understand?”

You nod, sliding your fingers up into his dark, unruly hair. “Yes. Yes, I understand.”

The scruff of his beard scrapes along your neck as he grins. “Atta girl. Now. Hold on tight.” And with little warning, Ezra slips his hands down to the underside of your ass cheeks and lifts you into the air. You let out a little yelp, your legs wrapping around his waist on instinct alone, and the hum of his laughter sings in your veins as he carries you to the bedroom.

“There she is. That’s what you needed, isn’t it?”

“Ezra…!”

“Fuck, sweet girl, I know. Keep on grinding for me. Keep going ‘til I say so.”

He has you on his lap, knees on either side of his hips as you straddle him in the center of his bed. His torso is propped up on an abundant pile of pillows stacked artlessly against the wall behind him, and his hands haven’t left your tits in countless minutes. He has no headboard, you notice absently, just a thin photo-realistic tapestry depicting a moss-covered forest hanging at the head of the bed, but as off-putting as you would find that under normal circumstances, in this moment, you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Feels so good,” you whimper, head thrown back, eyes drifting shut, hips working, working, working over the sizeable bulge pressing insistently against your cunt through the fabric of your clothes. He’s so hard beneath you, and his hands – his broad, thick, calloused hands – are performing magic on your nipples.

He had long since pulled down the flimsy cups of your bralette, allowing the soft swell of your breasts to spill over the tops, and after drawing the tips of them into achingly hard points with his tongue, he has contented himself with endlessly rubbing, pinching, and tugging at them while you grind against him. The constant stimulation is driving you insane – every caress of his thumb is like a crackling arm of lightning arcing down your nerve endings to your slick, swollen clit, and every thrust of your hips has the leaking head of his cock catching on that clit, and god damn, you’ve never come just from dry humping before, but you feel dangerously close to doing so right here in this near-stranger’s bed, all over his lap.

And Ezra knows it, too. With a smug, filthy smirk, he nods slowly, encouragingly. “Yeah, it does. Can feel you soaking me through my shorts.”

You pant, leaning back to brace your palms on his knees behind you, shifting your angle, seeking more of his hardness. The moan that leaves your mouth as you find the perfect position would be embarrassing if you weren’t so far gone. As it is, it barely even registers. “Oh my god, oh my god – ”

Your neighbor shakes his head, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he traps each of your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and squeezes, making your hips judder. “No god here, baby. Goddess, maybe. Never seen anything that made me believe in the almighty quite so much as you.”

His praise sends a wave of heat through you, and you can feel sweat starting to bloom along your hairline, under your breasts, in the creases of your thighs. Fuck, your legs are burning, your hips are sore from being spread so wide over him, and god, why won’t he just fuck you already?!

“Ezra, please – ”

“You can come like this, birdie.” His voice is low, strained and rasping but somehow steady. “Come just like this, and then I’m all yours.”

And he’s right – it doesn’t take much longer for it all to become just too much. His torturous attentions on your tits, the low, rich, rasping drawl of his encouragements, the impossibly hard and thick length of him pressing so perfectly against your dripping pussy – all of it stokes the flames in your belly, winds that coil deep inside. In the end, all it takes the wet drag of his tongue against your neck and a whispered “let go, little bird, I got you” in your ear, and you are gone.

Ezra’s hand comes up to cup the side of your face as you come down, his thumb stroking your cheek with surprising tenderness as you whimper and sigh and shake under his grip. “There she is,” he croons, all gentle warmth. “How’d that feel?”

All you can manage in reply is a weak nod. You list forward, seeking his mouth with your own, and you feel him grin into the kiss as you slot your lips against his.

“Fuck, E, please?” you murmur, fingers finding the short, wild strands of hair at the base of his skull and tugging gently.

“Please?” He echoes the word into your mouth, his breath hot on your face as he traces the tip of his prominent nose along yours. His eyes are heavy-lidded, his pupils blown wide, but they shine with good humor just the same. “Please what, baby?”

“Fuck me.” You sound petulant, demanding, almost childlike to your own ears.

With a warm chuckle, his slick tongue darts out to flick playfully at the seam of your open, panting mouth. “Soon. Very soon.”

“I dare not admit to how many times I thought about this. It would surely ruin your good opinion of me.”

You can barely string together enough brain cells to process Ezra’s words, let alone form a coherent response.

You’ve shed the remainder of your clothes, as has he, and you’ve traded places now – your reclined torso supported by the pile of pillows against the wall while your neighbor kneels on the mattress between your spread legs. He pumps his cock – even thicker than you had guessed, flushed ruddy and dripping pearls of precum – with one hand, while the other busies itself between your legs. The stretch of his first two fingers is incredible, the gentle, focused swirl of his thumb on your clit only adding to the sensation. It’s so delicious you can’t keep still, your hips grinding and thrusting to meet his touch.  

Eyes fluttering with overwhelm, weak little moans dropping from your open mouth, you stammer, “Y-You thought about this?”

He nods, that blonde shock of hair over his right eye bobbing with the motion. “I did, indeed. Couldn’t help myself, gods forgive me.” His dark, burning gaze remains focused on your cunt, intent on not missing a moment of the way his fingers glisten with your wetness. The intensity of that stare makes you tremble. “From that very first missive I found in the laundry facility. That…precious pink stationary, with the strawberries around the outside. It smelled sweet. Damn near drove myself mad thinking about it.”

Fuck, his fingers – they keep dragging against something inside you – something along the front wall of your pussy, something you know exists but have never found a partner who was interested in seeking it out. The feeling is foreign but completely spine-melting, a pleasure so deep and round and full that you can barely keep your eyes from slipping shut.

“I wondered what you might look like, what you might sound like. I wondered if you got as much satisfaction from our correspondence as I did. I wondered whether you enjoyed it when I dared to flirt, even if it was just a little bit.” His gaze flicks up to yours briefly, his hand still working his cock, his fingers still buried in your wetness. “Did you, little bird? Did you like when I flirted with you?”

You nod, blinking heavily as you try to hold his eye contact. “Yes,” you sigh, the sound coming out high-pitched and whining. “I did, I liked it.”

“And what about now? Do you like this? Do you like how I toy with your captivating little cunt?”

You moan and nod again. “I do, yes, E, fuck.”

The desperation in your voice makes Ezra smile. “She’s so pretty, sweetheart. So soft and juicy, spilling down my fingers like a ripe little peach in the middle of summer.” He pulls his fingers from you then, and you yelp in protest, your hands flying to his wrist to try to drag him back inside you. But he brushes off your grip like a harmless pest. Instead, he sticks out his tongue and drags his pointer and middle finger across it, leaving a trail of your milky slickness across his tastebuds. “Sticky. Sweet. Rich,” he groans, eyelids dropping closed, losing himself in the taste of you for a moment. “Full to bursting.”

He seems to remember himself, to finally hear your pleas of protest, and it takes him no more than half a beat to slip his fingers back inside you once again. “I want one more moment of ecstasy from you, birdie,” he growls, and you feel your deepest muscles clench down around him at the sound. “Let me watch you fall one more time, and then I will give you this cock.”

You nod again, your head bobbling on your neck as weakly as a newborn’s, and the grin he gives you in return in positively filthy.

“Excellent.”

The stroke of his fingers changes then, no more drugging, hypnotic in and out, no more tender swirl around your over-sensitive bundle of nerves. Instead, he starts to press on that soft, spongy, elusive spot deep within you, the pressure strong and insistent. Your back arches at the sensation, your hands flying out to grip onto his bare, freckled shoulders to hold yourself steady, but even the heat of his skin under your fingers isn’t enough to ground you. Instead, all you can do is drop little rhythmic moans synched with the motion of his hand. He jacks his wrist up and down, quick and firm and unrelenting, his fingertips pressing releasing pressing releasing pressing releasing, and slowly, steadily, something begins to build in you.

It’s searing hot and molten, pooling in your abdomen and leaking into your bloodstream. Your chest flushes, then you neck, then your face, and you swear your limbs are going numb as the pressure below your navel ratchets higher and higher.

“Ez-Ezra,” you whine. “That feels – I – ”

Somewhere at the edges of your awareness, you can sense him nodding, can feel the heat of his stare as he watches you. “I know, I know. Don’t fret now. You can give in to it. Feels good to surrender.”

A bolt of adrenaline rushes through you as that pressure morphs, transforms into the sudden, immediate, and desperate need to pee. The feeling mortifies you, and you shy away from it immediately, hips squirming away from his touch as you try not to embarrass yourself in front of this man you just met, but before you can get far, Ezra abandons his grip on his cock and instead uses that hand to push down hard on your lower stomach, holding you in place.

“Ah! Ezra!”

“Don’t fight your rapture, girl,” he rumbles. “Give me all that sweet nectar.”

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train.

It bowls you over, knocking the wind from your lungs, robbing the voice from your throat, and you can’t even manage to cry out as that dam inside you breaks and you flood his hand. Liquid gushes from you with such force that you can hear it hit his forearm, his knees, his bedsheets. He groans deep in his chest, resonant and victorious, but it sounds far away to you, like you’ve dunked your head underwater or filled your ear canals with cotton fluff. You’re so lost to your own ecstasy, you can hardly be bothered to acknowledge him, but still his miraculous fingers fuck you through the throes of it.

As you drift back to awareness, as your eyes blink open, you find that your nails have left deep, blood-red crescents in the tanned skin of his shoulders, and Ezra is gazing at you with something like pride shining in his dark eyes.

Your throat is dry and hoarse as you stutter, “I didn’t know – I’ve never – ”

“That’s my girl,” he whispers, dropping a surprisingly tender kiss to the very tip of your nose. “Lie back now. I’ve got one last trick up my sleeve.”

“Shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit.”

He’s so deep inside you now, thick and long and throbbing, and tears are starting to gather at the corners of your eyes from the stretch and the force of him. He has your knees hooked over his shoulders, your hands braced against the bare wall above you to keep your head from bumping into it, and between your legs, Ezra pants and sweats and grinds his teeth as he pounds into you with enough force to rock the bedframe.

“In all my time…on this green earth…never felt anything like you, birdie. What did this old man…ever do…to deserves something so sweet? So…soft. So wet. So fucking…tight, goddammit, sweetheart – ”

From the moment he slipped inside you, he hasn’t shut up. Not that you want him to, but you’ve never had a bed partner be quite so vocal before. You think it might take some getting used to, though if what you’ve experienced with him so far is anything to go off of, you feel confident that it would be worth it for the orgasms alone. This man treats your pleasure like it’s his, like he gets just as much out of watching you fall apart as you do experiencing it. It’s intoxicating, making you want to deliver for him just as badly as he clearly wants to for you.

Your pussy feels swollen and almost achy, your clit throbbing with the paired sensations of pain and pleasure with every grind of his pubic bone against yours. You’re exhausted, your vision hazy, your mouth parched, your hips sore. If he manages to make you come even one more time, you think you might actually pass out.

And yet, you fight to keep your eyelids open, to keep your gaze on him. Your cunt still drools for him in spite of your overwhelm, and you’re gripped with the bone-deep need to stay the course. You want to make him feel as good as he makes you feel. You want to be good for him.

He deserves it, you think. He deserves everything you can offer him and more.

“All those theatrical moans, those high-pitched cries,” he continues, voice dropping to a husky growl as he drags the tip of his nose along the soft, supple skin of your calf. “Where are they now, little bird, eh? Turns out when someone really fucks you right, you go almost totally quiet. Isn’t that so?”

You gasp out a soft, strained, “Mm hm.”

Ezra’s teeth flash as he grins, sweat dripping from his brow, slicking down both blonde and brown hair to the surface of his forehead. “I know, baby. Dick so good, you can’t even make a sound.”

He shifts slightly, bearing the weight of his upper body on one hand instead two as the other delicately brushes  your wild hair out of your face. You’re sure you’re a sight, all folded up like this under him, drenched in your own sweat and his, your hair tangled and your eyes fighting not to cross in pleasure.

“Thought about you so many times, birdie. Thought about the girl that made those sounds, too,” he confesses. He’s breathing heavily, his pace never slowing, never stopping. You can feel the flex of his abdomen as he thrusts, can feel the delectable friction of the tip of his cock against your tender G-spot. “What cosmic alignment…what turn of fortune…that you and that girl should be one and the same.”

“E-Ezra. It’s – it’s so – ”

“I know, sweetheart, I know.” His fingertips are so gentle against your cheek, a spine-melting contrast to the rough, powerful, insistent way he pounds into your body. Fuck, his cock is so good – you clench down around him involuntarily, the weight and the girth and the heft of him pressing so perfectly against every swollen, over-worked nerve ending within you. “But I told you – every last drop, remember? And you’ve still got one more to give me. I can feel it.”

On instinct, you shake your head, a whine bubbling up in your throat as your vision starts to blur. “Can’t – it’s too much – ”

“You can.” Ezra’s voice is breathless but firm, leaving no room for negotiation.

“But – ”

He groans your name then, and the sound of it on his lips forces your eyes open once more. “I can feel this precious little pussy clamping down on me. She’s speaking to me, baby. She wants to come, doesn’t she? One more time? She wants to squirt her delicious nectar all over me, I can tell.”  

You have no more brain power left to formulate a response. A weak, whining “fuck” is all you can manage.

“It’s all right, little bird.” The wicked smirk on his face is audible in his voice. “You don’t have to say a thing. I can do all the talking for now – you just relax.”

Before long, that pressure returns – that weighty, swollen, urgent sensation low in your abdomen, the one that makes you seize up on instinct, one of your hands flying to his hip as though to push him away. But you are entirely too weak and overwhelmed to have much of an effect. Instead, Ezra just nods knowingly and chuckles.

“Right there? Is that what this pussy needs to give up her treasures?” He holds steady, hitting the exact same spot over and over and over, and you can’t help but whimper through clenched teeth. “Breathe, birdie. Breathe deep and let go.”

You’re too far gone to even consider disobeying.

You do as he says – dropping your jaw, drawing a deep, soothing breath into your lungs, feeling your belly rise with it, feeling your diaphragm stretch, and like magic, all of the resistant tension in your hips and core releases, and you’re coming.

You’re thighs-trembling, neck-straining, hands-clenching, cunt-gushing coming. Your mouth open on a silent scream, you ride the tidal wave with half-awareness, barely hearing Ezra’s babbled praises, barely feeling the vital grip of his fingers around your hips, barely sensing the bloom of warmth deep inside you as he fills you with his cum. The only sensation that breaks through it all is the sharp pinch of his teeth biting into the soft flesh of your inner thigh. But you don’t mind – you think you might actually relish the bruise that is sure to come later.

The world is hazy as you come down – the late afternoon sun streaming through Ezra’s window casts long shadows across the bed, and you notice belatedly that the two of you have cast every single pillow and blanket onto the floor during your tryst. You shiver as the sweat between you begins to cool, and for the first time, you start to feel the sopping wet mess you have made of his fitted sheet as it sticks to you unpleasantly. You hope he has a waterproof mattress cover underneath it – otherwise, he is in for a very expensive steam cleaning bill.

Even in your growing discomfort, however, you cannot bring yourself to move. Every muscle in your body feels wrung out; every joint feels weak and wobbly. And your mind – your mind is blissfully, delightfully blank. You smile faintly, allowing your fingertips to trail leisurely over your chest, your stomach, your hips. You are entirely sated, and it is glorious.

Ezra, for his part, appears to feel the same. He braces himself over you with lax, rounded shoulders, his head hanging loose on his neck, his eyes closed, silent at last. His softening cock still rests inside you, but you don’t mind it – he’s warm, and you’re starting to chill. Not for the first time, you’re struck by how beautiful he is. So much more so than you ever could have imagined when you first responded to that crinkled little note in the laundry room.

When he finally withdraws from you, he lets out a soft, rasping groan, and between your legs, you feel the slick warmth of his cum dripping out of your swollen, sensitive hole. You catch him watching it for a moment, a faint smile lifting the corner of his mouth, before he collapses onto the bed next to you with a sigh.

“Well, birdie,” he quips after a moment of satisfied silence, “I suppose I have some more laundry to do, eh?”

His words surprise a laugh from you, the motion forcing even more of his cum to slip down between your ass cheeks. “Yeah, I think that might be a good idea,” you say with a tired smile, turning on your side to face him. “I can help, if you want.”

His grin broadens, and he shoots you a cheeky, crinkle-eyed wink. “No need, sweetheart. I know how to clean up my own messes.”

It’s hours later when your phone vibrates on your night stand, pulling you from your shallow, restless sleep. The time reads nearly midnight, but you rub the grit from your eyes anyway as you scan the message lighting up the screen.

The next time I fuck you, little bird, you’re wearing those lacy panties.

A delicious thrill trips down your spine at Ezra’s words. Drawing your lower lip between your teeth, you thumb a quick reply.

🤭 on one condition i want to wear the tshirt too 😜 Oh, you mean MY t-shirt? no MY tshirt 😇

[javierpenaispunk]

Here’s a list of some my favorite fics written by very talented people. It will be updated regularly with new fics but also with some older ones as I am trying to catch up with the ones I missed.

Some fics are tagged as mature so please do not read/interact with these works if you are under 18.

If you enjoyed any of these fics as much as I did, please take a moment to send some love to the authors ♡

• Joel Miller

• Javier Peña

• Frankie Morales

• Javi Gutierrez

• Din Djarin

• Marcus Pike

• Oberyn Martell

• Dieter Bravo

• Dave York

• Agent Whiskey

• Ezra

• Max Phillips

• Lucien de Leon

• General Acacius

(More characters coming soon)

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Dagger

A/N: This was supposed to be finished on February 1st. No, you're not mistaken, and no, your calendar is not wrong. Today is in fact February 28th, making this 27 whole days late for @jolapeno's Dearuary writing challenge for which I am so sorry!! This was a lot of fun to write - thank you for putting it together!! - so I hope you don't mind it coming in so far beyond the intended date. Find the rest of the entries for this epistolary event here!

Word Count: 12.8k + graphics

Warnings: violence, language, angst, illegal activities

Prompt: Character A keeps finding X and traces them back to Character B, who might be leaving them intentionally—or not.

Summary: Ezra had told Cee quite a lot about you - that the two of you had been partners, lovers, that you'd been separated by the currents of fate - enough for her to know that he was still, even 12 years later, deeply in love with you. After everything he'd done for her following their return from the Green - taking her in as his own kin, helping her pursue an education, giving her the stability that she'd never had before - she knew that if there was something she could do to help reunite him with you, she would. Consequences be damned.

It’s her.

Cee stared at the computer screen, eyes wide as she read the name at the top of the Central Mining Investigations employee file she’d accessed for the third time. Her heart pounded from a rush of adrenaline and dopamine as she let out a burst of air through her gaping mouth. It’s gotta be. Licking her lips, she gave a quick shake of her head, the small, loose bun atop it wobbling side to side. Let me just check one more time before I... 

Her fingers flew over the keys to bring up another page - a certified name change form, filed with the Puggart Bench Registration Department. Holding her breath, she compared the two documents. Everything was identical, apart from the woman’s last name. Current residence, birthdate, homeworld. Cee brought her fingertip up to the screen, using it to underscore each digit in the woman’s I.D. number as she cross referenced the CMI employee sheet. 

“-seven, five, nine, three,” She breathed out the last four numbers as another wave of excitement hit her bloodstream. “I found her.” 

Immediately, she opened up another tab, keys clacking as she signed in. She bit her lip and eyed the clock at the bottom of the screen as she waited for the private channel to open. Ugh. It’s late. Her thumb tapped impatiently against the edge of her laptop. I hope he’s still up. 

Her computer trilled a pleasant three-note tune as the connection was made, and she wasted no time in sending a message. 

_02/02/3096  _LST 12:47:45 AM  _PBST 10:47:45 AM {PRIVATE CHANNEL SECURED} 

[CeeGull78]: Hey you there?? 

[CeeGull78]: Ezra? You awake? 

[CeeGull78]: EZRA??? Wake up! 

[SilverScoundrel]: I am awake, Birdie. I am just not as quick with the keyboard as you are. Is everything alright? It’s late there, isn’t it? 

[CeeGull78]: You definitely aren’t. And yeah everything’s okay. Better than okay actually. 

[CeeGull78]: Ezra I found her. 

[SilverScoundrel]: Now I know you did not send me a message in the middle of the night to mock my typing speed. 

[SilverScoundrel]: Birdie? What do you mean? 

[CeeGull78]: Dagger. I found her. You were right about her working for CMI. 

[CeeGull78]: I missed it the first time I accessed their personnel files because she changed her name. 

[SilverScoundrel]: I don’t understand. We went through those files together with a fine tooth comb last time you were home. 

[SilverScoundrel]: Which, by the way, I should remind you, is not what you are meant to be spending your time at school doing. 

[SilverScoundrel]: She changed her name? 

[CeeGull78]: Relax, I’m getting all my schoolwork done on time and I’m using secure access points for this stuff. I won’t get caught. 

[CeeGull78]: But yeah. She changed her last name. First name’s still the same. I double checked the registration number. It’s her.

[CeeGull78]: And before you ask, she didn’t get married. I accessed the Puggart Central hall of records database. No registered marriage licenses, just a standard name change. 

[SilverScoundrel]: A marriage would explain her taking a new surname, are you certain that she did not wed? 

[SilverScoundrel]: Oh. I see. Well what is her new name? 

[CeeGull78]: Fagan. And according to these records, she was recently promoted to Lead Field Investigator for the Lau sector. 

[CeeGull78]: You know what that means, right? 

[CeeGull78]: I can contact her anonymously and set up a meet for you right here on Lau! Or Yonto since it looks like that’s where she’s headed next. 

[SilverScoundrel]: Birdie, do not attempt to contact her. 

[CeeGull78]: What?! Ezra why skuffing not? 

[CeeGull78]: You said you’ve been looking for her for years and now that I found her you don’t want to see her? 

[SilverScoundrel]: Of course I want to see her. 

[CeeGull78]: Then let me help you do that! 

[SilverScoundrel]: But I do not want to cause her any trouble and I fear that is all I ever do for others. 

[CeeGull78]: Untrue. We both know I would have never made it off the Green without you. We both know Damon would have left me with the Sater. 

[CeeGull78]: I wouldn’t be enrolled at Cobalt. I wouldn’t have a future. 

[CeeGull78]: I hate to break it to you, but you’re not actually the scoundrel you think you are. 

[SilverScoundrel]: Perhaps not anymore, due in large part to you, little bird. 

[SilverScoundrel]: But Dagger knew a very different version of me. And I do not want to cause her any trouble in her new life. 

[CeeGull78]: Ezra with all due respect I think you’re being skuffing stupid. 

[CeeGull78]: What if she’s been looking for you too? Don’t you want to at least know that? 

[SilverScoundrel]: Cee, please. Let this go. Do not try to contact her directly. 

[SilverScoundrel]: I appreciate that you are trying to help me. Truly I do. Thank you for letting me know what you found. 

[SilverScoundrel]: It’s late. You should be sleeping. Do you not have a class at 8:30 your time? 

[CeeGull78]: Yeah. Intro to Computer Science. Which I could probably teach. 

[CeeGull78]: But I can take the hint. I’ll let it go. 

[SilverScoundrel]: Thank you. Now go and get some sleep. Or at least allow me to get some. Goodnight Birdie. 

[CeeGull78]: Night Ezra. 

_02/02/3096  _LST 01:05:23 AM  _PBST 11:05:23 AM {PRIVATE CHANNEL CLOSED} 

Cee closed her laptop and set it down on the bed beside her. Her dorm room was dark, save for the reflection of blueish moonlight Yonto threw down at Cobalt Bay that managed to slip through the blinds. Nash, her roommate, was out for the night, so she didn’t have to make sure the other girl was sleeping before she climbed down from her lofted bed and opened the chest beneath it. 

Removing the top compartment, she revealed the lower part of the chest, which currently held the bulky sweaters she’d need in a few weeks when the weather changed. She shoved her hand between two folded piles and pulled one stack out, letting them drop to the floor as she grabbed the little purple pouch that had been under them. The contents rattled and she felt them move inside as she took it out and opened it. 

Peeking inside, she counted thirteen crust-nugget quality Aurelac gems. They weren’t worth much, and if she was being honest with herself, she didn’t really know why she kept them. Especially because raw mined materials from off-world were prohibited on Lau. Tossing the bag in her palm, she rolled her eyes. If I was worried about getting caught doing things I shouldn’t, I wouldn’t be hacking the CMI and PCRD databases from my dorm.

She glanced over at the small desk that she hardly ever sat at, which was also tucked under her raised bed frame, eyes landing on the photo there. It was taken the day that Ezra helped her move in for her first year at Cobalt, his arm slung around her as she leaned into his side. Both of them were grinning like skuffing fools. It was her favorite that they’d ever taken together. 

Giving the pouch another gentle toss, she swallowed. He said not to contact Dagger… directly. Looking down at the gems inside, she reached in and plucked one out. It was cloudy and slightly off-color, harvested too soon. Suitable only for button making or costume jewelry, if that. But what if I left her a message another way? 

After all, she did have a field assignment at the Central Mining outpost at Cobalt Bay the following afternoon, working on the computers that monitored the pumps. She could plant a few Aurelac gems by one of the Glossoil rigs. She could even fudge the security footage. She could be invisible. And then when one of the miners finds it, they’ll have to call CMI. 

Chewing her bottom lip, she dropped the gem back into the pouch and pulled the drawstring to close it. “I shouldn’t,” she said aloud, hoping that the sound of her own voice could dissuade her from making a mistake that could cost her. 

She placed the pouch back at the bottom of the chest, covered it with the displaced sweaters, covered those with the top compartment, and shut the chest. That done, she climbed back up to her bunk, and took her computer down to charge it on her dust-catcher of a desk. She looked at the photo one more time, her heart sinking at the thought of Ezra choosing not to reunite with the woman he’d told her once had been the love of his life. 

“I shouldn’t…” She said it under her breath and clicked the desk light off. 

But by the time she���d climbed back up into her bed and had situated herself under the lumpy comforter, she knew that even though she shouldn’t… she was going to. 

He’ll thank me for it later. She imagined some nebulous woman, the sketch of a person she’d never met or seen, based only on the handful of things Ezra had told her about the woman he’d called Dagger. Maybe they both will. 

——————————————————————————————————

The express shuttle from Lau Prime to Yonto, its closest and only habitable moon, took just over three hours. Pulling your laptop from its case, you decided to use that time - or at least some of it - productively. 

The sooner I file this report the better. 

It was standard CMI practice for inspectors to file their reports within a twenty four hour period of making their field visit. But your standard practice had always been to file as soon as possible, so that not even the smallest detail was at risk of being forgotten. You’d made waves at the bureau as a junior agent, when your diligence on a case resulted in finding a connection that your senior partner missed. 

Since those days, you’d climbed through the ranks to senior agent, and now chief field investigator of an entire sector, and through it all you had always filed your reports as close to immediately as possible. It had become expected of you. If you were to go longer than an hour without at least filing an initial report, you’d likely start to see messages from your team piling up on your wrist comm, asking if you were alright or if something had happened. It would raise questions, which was the last thing that you wanted. 

Especially because of… You glanced down at the clear, plastic evidence bag resting on your thigh, and at the cloudy yellow stones inside. Your heart thumped heavily against your ribs as you let out a slow, somewhat shaky breath. Because of my history. 

It was true that you had become a jewel in CMI’s crown in regards to closing piracy cases and making sure that mining protocols for safety, productivity and loss prevention were being carried out. But there were still those, like Vayne, your Inspector in Command, who remembered  how you came to work at the bureau in the first place. There were still those who called you a poacher, a pirate, a backstabber. There were some who cherished any chance they got to remind you - or anyone who would listen - that you only had your job because you had been caught violating mining law on Bahkroma Green, and that you were hired as part of a now defunct program that sought to get inside the minds of the criminals they were tracking down. Of the twenty agents hired through that program, you were the only one who hadn’t returned to illegal activities, the only one who hadn’t somehow used your position to feed information to anyone on the outside. And some at the bureau said it was only a matter of time before you did the same. 

Which was why this report specifically could not wait for your arrival on Yonto. You didn’t want anyone catching wind that it involved Aurelac, the very gems you had once been found guilty of stealing, and then hear that you had waited to file the report. That would look fishy. 

You cast another downwards glance at the bag of gems balanced on your leg as you set the laptop on the shuttle tray table. How did these… You licked your lips as blueish light streaked across the windows of the craft. How did these get there? 

Like any prospector, you’d know your first pull anywhere. You were looking at the fuck-nugget gems that you had scored over a decade ago, back when you were running with a pirate crew out in the Fringe. But I left these with Ezra. So how… 

Your computer finished booting up and you shook your head to clear your thoughts. Doesn’t matter right now. First, you needed to keep up appearances, which meant filing the report. But you needed to do it in a way that framed the incident as harmless so that it didn’t attract more attention from other agents. 

And to buy myself time to get to the bottom of this. 

Cracking your fingers, you opened a fresh report document, and then began typing. 

Field Report #0473 Sector: Lau  Planet/Moon: Lau Prime  CMI Respondent: Insp. Fagan  PB Registration #xxxx-7593 Date: 02/04/3096 Priority Level: Low 

Reason: Unauthorized raw materials (Aurelac pearls, grade C and lower) found at Central Mining owned site in Cobalt Bay. 

Observations: Glossoil miners contacted CMI when they came across four mid-sized, low quality Aurelac pearls which they claim appeared to have been “left there on purpose”. I was escorted by the site manager to the pump station where they were found. (It should be noted that the site manager and shift workers complied fully with the investigation.)

There were indeed four pearls on the ground near the pump controls, however their placement did not seem intentional but random. The pearls were all extremely clouded, though smooth. Initial scans showed no prints on the gems or on any surface nearby. 

No damage was done to Central Mining property or assets, and nothing has been reported as missing or stolen. 

Security footage of the area showed no trespassers. Black and white footage was clear, though did appear to glitch for <1 second, but no change in light, shadow or clarity was detected. 

Analysis: Based on my own observations, accounts given by crew that found the pearls, security footage and quality of the gems (black market/unregistered provenance) it is likely that the pearls were dropped by a crew member unknowingly. Given their low value, it is not, in this inspector’s opinion, a case that warrants further investigation. 

Suggested Action: Gems seized as evidence. Continue to monitor security footage. Weekly check-in video calls with Cobalt Bay Refinery manager for three months. If three months pass without incident, discontinue check-in protocol. 

Additional Comments: None at this time. 

You read your write-up once more. It seemed innocuous and bland enough, but not too sparse. It would be sufficient for your boss, anyway, and that was really all that mattered. 

It would also be the first time that you had ever intentionally lied on a report. 

You knew without a doubt that the gems had been left at the Cobalt Bay facility on purpose, and you knew that purpose was to get your attention, not CMI’s. You knew the glitch in the security footage was cause for concern, or at the very least, further investigation. And you knew that these specific gems - worthless as they were - resurfacing meant that the only scenario in which you would abuse your station like your rivals at the bureau said you would was playing out. 

Ezra’s alive. 

Your heart slammed at your ribs. 

And I have to find him before they do. 

——————————————————————————————————

The day after planting the gems at the Glossoil pump, Cee logged back into the CMI database with the false credentials that she’d used to find you. They still worked, like she knew that they would, and within a few minutes of finishing her assignment on the importance of using secure passwords and protecting sensitive data online, she was deep into the recently filed reports tab in Central Mining Investigations’ internal system. 

Scrolling through the linked documents, she stopped when she got to the one with your name on it - Field Report #0473. She clicked it to open the report and sat back against the pillows on her bed as she scanned through what you had written. 

Let’s see… Unauthorized raw materials… Random placement, not intentional. She swallowed. Oh, crud. 

She sat up and used both hands to sweep her blonde hair out of her face and behind her ears as she read over the next portion. 

Glitch in security footage. Skuff it, she noticed that? 

Her heartbeat picked up as she brought one thumb to her mouth and chewed at the nail. Ezra had told her that you were extremely detail oriented, that nothing got past your sharp eye. “She told me her surname meant Dagger,” he’d said, “And I’m certain that it does. But that is not the only reason that I used that moniker for her. She is the sharpest person I have ever met. Her eyes can cut through anything, Birdie.” 

He wasn’t kidding. 

If she noticed that, then… Cee blinked. Then they might make her look closer at it and then she might see that the cameras were accessed on site and then-  She squeezed her eyes shut and clutched her head. She’ll figure out that it was one of the student interns. 

As though she needed another kick of adrenaline, her door swung open and the lights clicked on, Cee letting out a gasp and nearly falling from her lofted bed. 

“Shit, sorry, it’s just me, Cee!” Nash called out as she tossed her bag on her bed. “I didn’t know you were back from class yet. The lights were off and-” 

Peeking over the side of the bed, she forced a smile that she hoped didn’t look as tight as it felt. “No worries. Just, uh-” She minimized the tab she was reading, even though there was no way Nash could see it from where she stood. “Just working on my cyber-sec project.” Good thing I finished it last week. 

Nash groaned. “I still haven’t started mine. But it’s not due until next week, right?” Cee nodded. “Okay, good. I’ve got time.” Her roommate smiled then, taking a few books out of her bag and replacing them with the folded blanket from the end of her bed. “And so do you. I’m meeting up with Shayla and Pax down by the cliffs for lunch. It’s so nice out, Cee! You should come!” 

Truth be told, there was nothing that Cee wanted more than to jump down from her perch and join her friends. It was the first time in her life that she had any, and she’d been thoroughly enjoying learning what it was like to find a group of people who had her back, who helped her figure out how to become herself. Prior to her enrollment at Cobalt, the only experience she had with friendship had been what she’d read in The Streamer Girl. Now that she’d met Shayla, Pax and especially Nash, she finally understood the bond between Clo and Reevie. 

Her eyes shifted to the computer, a slight frown pulling her mouth downwards. But I have to fix this. Like right now. She sighed, gesturing at her screen. “I’m kinda on a tear right now with this, but I’m almost done. Maybe I can meet you guys down there in like, I don’t know, an hour?” 

Nash put on an exaggerated pout. “Fiiiiiine. But you better come. If you don’t, we’re all gonna come drag you out. You’ve been all work and no play lately.” She dropped the pout and tilted her head, a flash of genuine concern in her eyes. “Everything okay with you?” 

No. I skuffed up and hacked the CMI database, planted illegal gems at the refinery, manipulated the security footage, and now I have to cover my tracks before I get caught and expelled, maybe arrested… Oh, Kevva, could Ezra be arrested for this? Technically I’m his responsibility, and- 

She plastered on a smile. “Yeah. Everything’s creamy.” She shrugged at her computer. “I’m just locked in with this project. And hey, if I get it done now I can help you with yours tomorrow. That way we’re both done before the Myllock festival this weekend.” 

That seemed like a good enough response, because Nash gasped and broke into a grin. “I almost forgot about the festival! Okay, finish your project,” she said, flicking her hands up at Cee. “But hurry!” 

Cee promised that she would, and with that, Nash headed back out. Opening the report she had been reading just moments before, Cee let out a heavy sigh. Okay. Damage control time. 

With a few keystrokes, her heart racing, the sound of it loud in her ears, she was able to open up the editing function on the report. Luckily, the report was still flagged as “needs review”, meaning that it hadn’t been processed yet. That gave her some relief, though there was still a nervous shake in her fingers as she dragged the cursor to the section in question and began deleting the words you’d written. 

Security footage of the area showed no trespassers. Black and white footage was clear  though did appear to glitch for <1 second, but no change in light, shadow or clarity was detected. 

She read the report one last time, making sure that there was nothing else that she needed to clean up. Satisfied that there wasn’t, she re-submitted the file and logged out of the CMI database. At that exact moment, another window popped open on her screen and for a brief but terrifying moment she was convinced it was some kind of alert or message from the bureau or even her school, telling her that they were aware of her tampering and that she was in big, catastrophic trouble. 

But then she blinked and the terror passed and she saw that it was only her chat screen, a new message from Ezra coming through. 

_02/05/3096  _LST 12:09:25 PM  _PBST 10:09:25 AM {PRIVATE CHANNEL SECURED} 

[SilverScoundrel]: Cee? Are you there? 

[CeeGull78]: Nope. Sorry, you just missed her. She’s definitely not here. 

[SilverScoundrel]: You are hilarious, Little Bird. 

[CeeGull78]: Thank you, I know. 

[Silver Scoundrel]: Well, if Cee returns, oh benevolent message keeper, please let her know that I have successfully booked my ticket to Lau for family weekend, and that I look forward to seeing her. 

[SilverScoundrel]: Oh I see we’ve dropped the game. 

[CeeGull78]: No way! You did? You’re coming?? 

[SilverScoundrel]: I am indeed, Birdie. 

[CeeGull78]: Ezra, that’s great! You can meet my friends! And I can show you the computer lab since that’s where I spend most of my time. 

[SilverScoundrel]: I did not realize that you would be so excited to have my company, but I can’t say that it’s not a welcome surprise. 

[CeeGull78]: Oh stuff it, you know I miss you. Can you see my eyes rolling from the Bench? Because they are. Hard. 

[SilverScoundrel]: I cannot. However, having witnessed it so many times, I can clearly picture the expression. And I miss you too, for the record. I never imagined a wild Fringer like myself would be fortunate enough to find kin like you, but I am more than happy to have been wrong. 

[CeeGull78]: Sap. 

[CeeGull78]: For the record, I’m happy you were wrong, too. Who knows, maybe you’ll really shock yourself and be wrong about Dagger being in your past, too. 

[SilverScoundrel]: Are you still on that? 

[CeeGull78]: Am I still on trying to get you to reunite with the one person who has ever made you happy? Who you said was the only woman you ever loved? Um, gee, let me think. 

[CeeGull78]: Yeah, I am. 

[SilverScoundrel]: It isn’t going to happen, Birdie. It can’t. We live different lives now. It wouldn’t be safe. 

[CeeGull78]: What do you mean it won’t be safe? She’s not gonna like stab you or anything, is she?

[SilverScoundrel]: No, nothing like that. I don’t think, anyway, though I would likely deserve it. But the danger I am referring to doesn’t come from her. She would be the target of that danger in this case. As would you, should the wrong folks catch wind of our reunion. 

[SilverScoundrel]: And I have already promised you that I will never knowingly put you in harm’s way, Cee. 

[CeeGull78]: Me?? Why would I be in any danger? 

[CeeGull78]: Ezra, what actually happened between you two? And who are the “wrong folks”? CMI?

[SilverScoundrel]: You would suffer simply for your connection to me, and that is not something that I will sit idly by and allow. 

[SilverScoundrel]: Kevva bless it, Birdie, not on here. Don’t mention things on here that might catch the wrong attention. 

[CeeGull78]: Would you relax? I told you a million times, it’s a secure channel. It’s invitation only. No one but you and me can see this conversation, and it gets deleted after we sign off. 

[CeeGull78]: And yes, I’m sure. Like I told you, I could teach the Intro to Computer Science class. 

[SilverScoundrel]: Still, I would feel better if you did not broach such topics here. 

[CeeGull78]: And I would feel better if I knew more about all of this. 

[SilverScoundrel]: Then I will make you a deal, Birdie. When I come to visit next weekend, I will answer any and all of your inquiries. All I ask is that you save them for when we can talk about it in person. 

[CeeGull78]: Fine, but there’s going to be a lot of them by then. 

[SilverScoundrel]: I would expect nothing less from an inquisitive spirit such as yourself. Do try to spend some time on your school work or even with your friends, though, and not all of it compiling your list of questions. 

[CeeGull78]: Oh, crud! Actually, I have to go. I’m late to meet with Nash and them. 

[CeeGull78]: But I really am glad you’re coming. Thanks for letting me know. And for, you know, actually wanting to come. 

[SilverScoundrel]: Of course I want to. I am proud as a puffed up dune-piper that I get that honor. Now go on and have fun with your friends. 

[CeeGull78]: I will! Talk to you soon!

_02/05/3096  _LST 12:24:25 PM  _PBST 10:24:25 AM {PRIVATE CHANNEL CLOSED} 

Ezra watched the screen until the conversation vanished as Cee said it would, letting out a small sigh of relief as soon as it did. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her expertise. The list of people he’d trusted more or even as much as Cee was a short one. The same could be said for the list of people who he gave a channel rat’s behind about, though, and he’d never forgive himself if she ended up being punished for his past discretions. 

For the things he did when he was with you. 

Closing his eyes, he leaned back in the olive plaid armchair, pinching the bridge of his nose and then flattening his palm against his brow. Your face filled his mind then, as vividly as if he’d just seen you that morning. As if it hadn’t been over a decade without him knowing your fate. 

Since Cee had sent him the message that she had found you, Ezra’s thoughts and emotions had been all over the place. Hearing that you were alive and well had been a gift that he feared he would never receive, and in the moment, he was thrilled. But it was only mere seconds before that euphoria was overridden by guilt and regret for allowing Cee to put herself in the midst of his mess. He’d entertained her offer to look for you while she had been home from school on break, and that had piqued her curiosity to the point of no return. He never meant for her to continue the search, to push the limits and keep digging. 

But I should have known better. She is a small thing, but deceptively hard to move. 

Ezra wondered, briefly, if perhaps he did know better. If he had let the devil on his shoulder whisper in his ear to let her look, what could it hurt, surely even if she was caught CMI would go easy on her, she’s a student after all. Maybe he was still the scoundrel that he thought he was. 

No. It was done subconsciously. I would never knowingly encourage Cee to put herself in harm’s way. Certainly not on my behalf. 

Shaking that from his thoughts - not that he absolved himself completely - they turned back to you. You were alive. Not imprisoned. Not stranded on some Kevva forgotten moon, left to the moss and fern. Alive. His heart thumped happily at that news as years of fear and worry and shame fell away. You were alive. 

He had spent the last twelve years thinking that he’d gotten you killed. Thinking that when things had gone sideways on the Divin job with those mercs, when he’d woken up in a pool of his own blood and you were gone, that he had failed to protect you at the cost of your life. 

And of course he had searched for you. Stumbled across Divin’s entire eastern plain with a concussion and at least three cracked ribs, bordering on hysterics as he cried out your name to no avail. Tracked the mercs back to an abandoned camp and dropped to his knees in the circle of charred dirt from where the thrusters had shot fire into the ground upon takeoff, letting out a hideous, shattered howl. Tore through the remnants of their camp for any clue as to where you’d been taken and found nothing. Dragged himself, still bloodied and battered, back to his ship which had blessedly been left undamaged, and somehow flew back to Central. Tried like hell to convince himself that there was a chance you might be able to get away from your captors, mostly so he wouldn’t crash the jumper straight into the Divin asteroid field. 

The two of you always knew that the jobs you took attracted trouble. You always knew that there might come a time that you’d have to split up for safety, lay low for a spell. You had a contingency plan for that, a place to regroup or to safely leave messages for each other - Coney’s billiards hall on the third level of Central Prime. Ezra had gone to Coney’s every damn day for a month only for the retired pirate turned business owner to shake his shaggy head with an increasingly grim look on his face. Only for Ezra to end up leaving a letter that would still be there in three months when he returned from searching for you on Kren. 

He’d left it again and gone off to Helpha next, then the Ephrate and then every place the two of you had been together, every place you ever mentioned in that dreamy voice you’d use when you talked about the days after all of this. He spent the better part of a year searching for you, all the while hoping that when he got back to Coney’s, you might be there waiting. Or that a message from you would be. Or at the very least that his letter would be gone. 

“‘M sorry, sonny,” the man had said upon Ezra’s return, his gray-blue eyes brimming with genuine sadness - Coney always liked you, everyone did - “Think maybe you should have this back.” He’d handed Ezra back his letter with the promise that if he did see you, he’d not hesitate to reach out. “‘M hopin’ I do see ‘er, Ez, really I am.” 

But that call never came. And Ezra still had the letter. 

He stood and crossed the small sitting room to the desk in the corner. Pulling open the top drawer, he reached in and retrieved the folded and refolded piece of paper, then slumped back in the armchair and opened it. His formerly jaunty but legible handwriting glared up at him, another reminder of how much time had passed, how many things had changed. But he ignored that and read the words he’d written to you all those years ago despite the fact that by now they had been fully committed to memory. 

Dagger, 

I failed you, and I lack the words to express how sorry I am for not being able to keep you from harm. (Imagine that. Me, speechless.) I hope that if you are reading this letter now that you are safe, that you’re whole and well and far from the villains who took you from me. I hope these things even if you choose to tell Coney that you don’t want to see me again. I long to hold you again like a drowning man’s lungs long for air. But simply knowing you are alive would be enough. I’d learn to breathe water. 

But I must admit that I am riddled with fear that I am too late. And so in case you never read this letter, this next part is a vow that I make to myself as much as it is to you: There’ll be peace and harmony in the wildest reaches of the Fringe before I give up hope of finding you again. I’ll search for you everywhere I go, until Kevva claims my wretched soul and even then I’ll look for you. 

No one else will ever carve their name in my heart. I love you, endlessly. 

Ezra 

He stared at the page, silently berating himself for believing it when the rumor went around at Coney’s - it had been sold to someone named Jak a few years ago but it would always be called Coney’s - that you had turned up dead on Helpha. It hadn’t stopped him from keeping his eyes and ears open for any mention or trace of you as he moved through the Fringe. But it had killed the hope of ever holding you again, and it had fed the guilt he felt because he knew that you were only dead because he’d failed you. 

But she’s not. She’s alive. 

He glanced back at the computer, at the blank screen where his conversation with Cee had been displayed. He still wouldn’t ask her to contact you. You working for CMI had likely been part of a deal sparing you from spending the rest of your life in one of the Fringe’s less desirable prisons. And it likely meant that they closely monitored all of your reports and communications, scanning them for any connection to his name or to your old life. It likely meant that you were just a different kind of prisoner, and he wouldn’t involve Cee in a jailbreak. 

But he would, when he answered all of her questions regarding you, ask her for all the information he needed to contact you on his own. 

Because I lied, Dagger, my girl. Unintentionally, of course. 

Knowing you were alive was everything. But until he knew whether or not you’d allow it, having you to hold again was all he could think about. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The screen on your wrist comm blinked red, and you felt the blood drain from your face as you gaped down at it. 

Report to Insp. Vayne: IMMEDIATELY Reason: IRREGULARITY ON REPORT #0473

Irregularity? What irregularity? How? You shook your head. Vayne wasn’t there, how could he know that I downplayed it? 

Mouth going dry, you tried to calm yourself as you made your way to Vayne’s office. Maybe you’d forgotten to add your registration number, something simple and easy to rectify, the urgency only due to the fact that the report couldn’t properly be filed without it. But there was a little voice in the back of your head that told you not to be so foolish. This was about Ezra, somehow. You were sure of it. 

Fuck, why did I believe it when they told me he was dead? Why didn’t I take the risk and fucking make sure for myself? 

But you knew why. CMI, though they treated you well enough most of the time, held more than just your freedom from imprisonment over your head. They threatened to go after your family and Ezra’s - he had a brother and two nephews - if you ever stepped out of line and turned traitor. So you knew you hadn’t done the wrong thing in protecting them. 

That didn’t stop the ache that cleaved through your heart, because you knew that if you had found Ezra again, the two of you would’ve found a way to break free from CMI, to keep everyone you loved safe. It didn’t stop the shiver from trickling down your spine at the thought that if they’d gone as far as to lie about his death, it must mean they’d do anything to keep you from knowing the truth. 

Pulling yourself together as best as you could, you knocked on Vayne’s door, dropping your hand as it slid open. “Come in, Fagan.” 

You had gotten good at not doing it outwardly, but inwardly you cringed every time someone called you by that name. It wasn’t yours, and the only name you ever wanted to take other than yours was Ezra’s. But Fagan had been given to you along with your shiny new life as CMI’s most well-broken wild horse. 

“Sir,” you managed with a nod as you entered. 

“Take a seat.” He gestured to the lone chair that sat opposite his own and you did as you were asked. “Do you know why I called you in?” He raised one brow but kept the rest of his facial muscles eerily still as he measured your response. 

You cleared your throat and turned your wrist so that he could see the display on your comm. “Says here that you found an irregularity in my report from the Cobalt Bay facility.” Tilting your head to the side, you let your arm rest in your lap. “Did I not add my registration number or something?” 

Vayne blinked once, then the corner of his mouth twitched. “No, all of your t’s and i’s are crossed and dotted procedurally speaking.” He clicked his tongue. “As always.” 

“Oh.” You hoped he couldn’t hear the slam, slam, slam of your heart as you worked to internalize your panic. “Okay, well, good. Where was the irregularity, then?” 

“Well that’s the thing, Fagan, you see-” His twitchy smirk grew a tick and he held up one finger. “The report itself is perfect. Well written, thorough. Honestly, we could add it to the training manual as an example but the manual is already chock full of your reports.” 

Then what… You sat there silently, breathing through your nose to keep the rhythm even, and waited for him to drop the other shoe.  

“What’s irregular about this report is that you waited a day to file it when your MO has always been to file-” He snapped his fingers, “- like that.” 

That made no sense to you at all and you did nothing to hide your confusion. “Sir, I filed the report from the Yonto shuttle as soon as I left Cobalt Bay.” You shook your head. “You can ask Murph or Reece. They saw me writing it up and gave me flack for it because they said it makes the rest of them look bad, how quickly I file.” 

“Then the irregularity is that you re-opened it before I read it, then. Typically if you recall a detail that you want to add, you file an add-on page.” He blinked again, that fucking smirk ticking higher and tinting his eyes with something threatening. “So why didn’t you do that this time? You know, I did wonder whether or not I should trust you on a case involving Aurelac, but I-” 

“Excuse me, sir, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You interrupted him, some of the initial fear melting and boiling into something else. “I didn’t reopen the file. I submitted it, and then I read my prepwork for the case on Yonto.” 

You didn’t understand why he would even bother to lie about that, though, because you could easily prove him wrong by showing him the date. That wasn’t something that you needed to remember to add. The date stamp was programmed into the CMI system so that all reports would correspond with Central’s calendar without having to do any conversions. The only way the date could be changed on a report was by reopening it as Vayne had accused you of doing. 

But I didn’t do that. So what in Kevva’s name is he on about? 

You leaned forward in your chair. “The date that I submitted it on was the last time that I touched that file, sir. And as for my credibility regarding the Aurelac, I-” 

He spun the screen on his computer to face you, and what you saw made the rest of your sentence die on your tongue. But that makes no fuck-crusting sense.

“Tell me, Fagan, you took the shuttle to Yonto on the second, did you not?” 

You nodded, still stunned by what you saw. 

“Then pray tell, why does this say that it was last opened on the third?” 

“I-” You moved your chair closer to the desk so that you could read the report more clearly. “Sir, I can’t explain that. All I can say is that I give you my word that I filed it on the second and haven’t thought of it since.” 

That last part was an elaboration. Actually it was an outright lie. You’d spent all of your unoccupied time thinking of ways to start searching for Ezra again without drawing suspicion, wondering if Coney still owned the pool hall, agonizing over whether or not it was still a safe place for Fringers like Ezra. Like you. But Vayne had already called your loyalty into question and you needed him to think he still had it. Or that he ever truly did. 

You continued to scan the report, an incredulous look on your face, when you noticed an irregularity of your own. Hold on. That’s not right. “Wait.” You pointed at the screen, at the last paragraph in the observations section. “That’s been changed. Something’s been deleted there. I wrote that there was a glitch lasting less than a second on the footage. But it’s been taken out.” 

“So is that the edit that you made when you reopened the file on the third?” Vayne’s question was more baited than any hook on Lau or Yonto’s fishing lines. 

“As I said before, sir, I did not open the file on the third. Go ahead and strap me up to a lie detector if you really want to.” You hoped the extra bravado would make him fold. While you’d easily pass if asked about reopening the file, you knew that if the questions shifted to Aurelac, your former life of piracy, or Ezra, you wouldn’t be able to fool the machine. “What I think is more likely,” you went on, setting your expression into something serious and grim and taking care to put ice in your voice, “is that someone accessed our system and tampered with this file.” You lifted one brow. “Now, I don’t know about you, sir, but I think that is a far bigger problem than the one that you seem to have with me.” 

The man went pale at the prospect of someone on the outside digging around in the bureau’s data. You knew, and so did he, that there were so many things that CMI never intended anyone to see. Evidence which proved that inspectors had violated local laws while investigating incidents at Central Mining outposts. Accounts that paid hush money to thousands of citizens on dozens of planets so they’d keep their mouths shut about something that wouldn’t look good if it got out. Lists of individuals that CMI sent mercs after when they couldn’t catch them themselves, lists of people who they falsified information about to better suit their optics. 

Like Ezra. Like me. 

“How likely do you think that is, Fagan?” He’d suddenly dropped the accusatory tone and shit-gobbling grin, stress instantly rearranging his features into something small and pathetic. “And how far do you think… How many files do you think they could have-” 

“Well, I can’t know for sure unless I look through every last file…” You trailed off, relishing the way it made his spirit visibly drop even lower. Because that would take years. “I think I should go back to Cobalt Bay and take another look at that footage. Do another round of questioning, see if there could’ve been an angle I missed. Someone that could have known how to erase the-”

Some of the patheticism left his eyes then, and he shook his head. “Send you back to Cobalt Bay? To do further investigation on an Aurelac case that appears to have been tampered with? Fagan, I am still not sure how much I trust you with this. Frankly-” 

“Frankly, sir, your options are send me, or let someone else in on the fact that CMI has been infiltrated.” You sucked air through your teeth. “I wouldn’t think you would want that getting out.” 

You knew you had him but it was still satisfying to watch him sink again. 

“Fuck.” He muttered it under his breath, covering his eyes with one hand and rubbing it back over his head. “Alright. Go. You have an hour to catch the next shuttle back to Lau.” He peered over his shoulder at the shuttle schedule. “Looks like it’ll get you there by local midday. I want check-ins every three hours once you land, is that clear?” 

“Loud and.” 

With that you left Vayne’s office, legs wobbling like the rubbery vac-packed noodles you used to live on out in the Fringe from the adrenaline throbbing through your body, grabbed your things from your office, and made your way to the shuttle station. 

Please, you begged, of Kevva or whoever else might be listening, let this give me the time I need to find him. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cee nearly passed out when she got the notification that all students doing their practicals at Cobalt Bay needed to report to the facility that day - whether they were scheduled or not - to comply with CMI proceedings regarding the Aurelac incident from the previous week. 

Oh, mother-crusting skud balls I really stuck my foot in it. I’m done. Fried. They’re gonna- Wait. 

She read the message again. 

All student interns at Cobalt Bay will need to comply with CMI proceedings as the facility will be visited by Chief Inspector Fagan, and all crew members including students will be required to give a statement regarding last week’s incident. 

That’s Dagger. Fagan, that’s… I thought they’d send someone else, but- She let out a sigh that turned into a nervous laugh. I can work with this. 

“Ceeeee,” Nash groaned from the bed across the room. “Why are you up and on your computer so earrrrllllly?” 

“Sorry,” she mumbled, moving her screen so that the glow wasn’t directed at the other girl. “Although it’s not that early, you know. We have class in twenty minutes.” 

Nash yawned. “Yeah, and my alarm was gonna go off in five. Early.” She rolled out of bed with far too much reluctance for someone who slept for ten hours straight, and started gathering her toiletries to go wash her face and brush her teeth. 

Before she left the room, though, Cee cleared her throat and spoke. “Hey I’m not gonna be in Chem this afternoon.” She cocked her head towards her computer, the headphones around her neck shifting as she did. Nash, still only half awake, gave her a confused look. Yeah I know, I’m always in class. “Got a message this morning about the refinery practical I’m doing at Cobalt Bay. They need all of us to report today for some big meeting.” 

It wasn’t a lie, just an omission of the fact that the meeting in question was actually an ongoing investigation. But the less she knows about it the better. The last thing Cee wanted was any of her friends being dragged into the mix because she’d shared with them stories of her little foray into evidence planting and database hacking. 

“Can you just let Professor Gatlin know? I’m gonna send him the same message I got from them, but we both know he’s not gonna check his inbox before class.” 

Nash rolled her eyes. “I’m still waiting for a response to a message I sent him last week, so yeah, don’t hold your breath. But I’ll tell him.” 

“Thanks, Nash.” Cee gave her a small smile. “Now go get ready. I’ll wait for you but not if you’re gonna make me late.” 

Nash made an exaggerated show of skedaddling towards the door. “Okay, okay, I’m going.” 

Cee waited until the door clicked shut before leaving her computer on her desk and going into the chest beside it. She removed the top compartment, dug her hand through the sweater piles, closed it around the small sack of gems, and pulled three of them out. Those she stuck in the inner pocket that she’d added to the old flannel she liked to wear as a light jacket - it had been Ezra’s, from when he was around her age, and it was the closest thing to a family heirloom that she had - and closed the chest before Nash returned. 

She had a plan for what to do at the refinery to get your attention. It was an even bigger risk than her last plan, and she didn’t know if it would even come to fruition, but it was all she had as backup. She couldn’t leave the facility without getting you a message, and the gems hidden in her smuggler’s pocket were her emergency exit route. 

And if I need to use them, I will. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You waited as the student interns filed into the room that had been designated for your investigation, carefully watching them for any signs of suspicious behavior or nerves. You’d already finished with the actual crew that worked at the refinery, and none of them had tipped you off to anything out of the ordinary, so you knew that it was likely that you’d catch something with this group. 

And when the room was about two thirds of the way full, you did. Oh, that one knows something. 

The one in question was a feathery girl with short blonde hair that was drawn back into a ponytail. Her eyes, though, dark brown and determined, were what made you certain that she might be helpful for your case. Most of the others seemed timid, uninterested, bored, or even despite the time, still half asleep. But not this girl, who seemed to be measuring you just as acutely as you were doing to her. 

She gave nothing away during the group discussion, though, answering your questions as benignly as the others. You were getting ready to tell them that they could go unless any of them had anything more to add in private, when your wrist comm beeped with an incoming transmission from Vayne. “Excuse me for just a moment,” you asked of the students. “I’ll get you out of here soon, I just need to take this.” 

None of them seemed to care, probably because the longer they sat there, the more likely it was that they would be given permission to miss their next class back on campus, so you stepped out into the hall to answer. Twisting the dial to the holo setting, you waited for Vayne’s small, projected image to emit from the device. “Sir,” you greeted him. 

“Fagan. Have you finished speaking with the students? I want to sit in when you go over the footage. You haven’t done that yet, have you?” 

And he wants to bust my ass for irregularities? You trained your face into an expression of compliance. “I haven’t done that yet, no. And I’m just finishing up with the students now. I can dial you back when I’m done there, I don’t think it’ll take too long.” 

“No need, Fagan, I’ll stay on. If it’s only a few minutes it’s no problem.” 

For you, maybe. It’s no problem for you. You nodded. “Alright.” I doubt this will inspire any of them to pipe up, but… 

You re-entered the room, thirteen pairs of eyes going directly to the hologram on your wrist. “This is Inspector Vayne,” you informed the kids, gesturing with your free hand. “He works with me.” 

You knew that he would hate the implication that you were equals, but you had already established an easy atmosphere and you didn’t want to ruin that by telling them that an authority figure who had even more authority than you did was now listening to their every word and watching them like a hawk. Apart from a nod and a curt hello, Vayne had nothing to add, the room going silent for a few seconds. Clearing your throat, you changed that. 

“Right. So, you’re all clear to go unless any of you have anything else to add.” 

You directed your gaze to the girl you’d clocked at the outset - Cee, as her name tag said - but she was focused on the hologram, jaw tight and eyes a little wider than they were before. See? She definitely has something to say but this fuck-nugget being here is gonna spook her off. No one said anything, the students casting curious glances around the room to see whether anyone would, but you were far from shocked by that.

“Okay then,” you said with a smile that you hoped would soften the blow of Vayne’s holographic presence. “Thank you all again for coming in today. Your recollection of the timeframe we’re looking at has been very helpful. If any of you think of anything else that you think I should know, you have my contact information and you can use it anytime, day or night.” 

As soon as you were done talking, chairs started scraping as the students wasted no time in filing towards the door. You noticed, though, that Cee was doing her best to linger without blatantly appearing to do so, allowing several of her classmates to pass her as she slowly put the flannel she had draped over the back of her chair back on. Once she had, she shot you a pointed look, then looked down at her seat and back up to you. From there she’d made up the tail end of the line, and then she and the rest were gone. 

The security guard came in almost immediately, carrying a small, portable screen for you - and Vayne - to review the footage on. As he set up and Vayne made small talk with him from your wrist, you walked around to the other side of the room and took the seat directly next to the one where the girl had all but told you to look. And what you saw there stilled the air in your lungs. 

A folded piece of paper that said: DAGGER, with three more gems from the same Aurelac pull as the last ones sitting atop it. 

You used your free hand to covertly palm the objects, sliding them into your sleeve while the security footage began to play. It wasn’t until after, when the guard had left and Vayne had ended his transmission and you were alone, that you peeked into your cuff to make sure that the items were still there, and then you excused yourself to the restroom before heading back to the shuttle station. 

Securely pocketing the Aurelac in an inner pocket of your blazer - Ezra had shown you that trick ages ago - you opened the note with shaking hands. 

I know who you are. We have a mutual friend and we need to talk. I’ll send you a secure link tonight. 

It was short and unsigned and your heart slammed at your ribs as more questions than answers started filling your head. 

Who the hell is this girl? 

How does she know Ezra? 

And what in Kevva’s name has she gotten herself into? 

You composed yourself, splashed water on your face, and headed for the shuttle. The only thing you could do was file your next report and wait for whatever message was coming. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

She did say any time, day or night, right? 

Cee chewed her thumbnail and stared at the message she was about to send you. All it had was a link to a chat, one that she had coded to look like a photo she’d taken at the refinery just in case that stuffy guy from your wrist comm was monitoring your mail. There was no downside to sending it, and it was the only way she could think of to talk to you off the record. Nash was visiting her girlfriend for the night, so Cee had the room to herself and wouldn’t have to worry about hiding her screen. It was now or never, and it had to be now. 

She sent the message, and then waited. 

Less than ten minutes later, a new window popped open, and she sat up against the pillows in her bed, pulling her laptop closer so she could more easily respond. 

Here we go. 

_02/06/3096  _LST 09:13:22 PM  _YST 10:13:22 PM {PRIVATE CHANNEL SECURED} 

{INVITE SENT TO CMI EMPLOYEE 7593}{USERNAME CREATED FOR CMI EMPLOYEE 7593 = “SharpDagger”} 

[SharpDagger]: What is this? 

[CeeGull78]: I thought this might be a better way for us to talk. 

[CeeGull78]: Safer. 

[SharpDagger]: How do I know I can trust you? Who are you? What do you want? 

[CeeGull78]: How can you trust me? Because I have arguably more to lose than you. That work? 

[SharpDagger]: I doubt that. 

[CeeGull78]: It’s not a contest, it’s a fact. I’m a student at Cobalt. On a full scholarship. If I get caught I lose both of those things and I end up back where I was: A drifter out in the Fringe forever. 

[CeeGull78]: And my name is Cee. We met earlier. 

[SharpDagger]: So is this some kind of student prank? The Aurelac? A dare or something? 

[CeeGull78]: Skuffing crust-nuggets, lady! 

[CeeGull78]: Sorry. 

[CeeGull78]: It’s just… No. It’s not a prank. Like I wrote you in that note, we have a mutual friend. I care about him a lot and he seems to really care about you. All I wanted to do was help you both. 

[SharpDagger]: How did you get that Aurelac? 

[SharpDagger]: How did you get those exact pieces? 

[CeeGull78]: He gave them to me. Told me the story behind them and I liked it so he let me have them. I keep them for good luck I guess. 

[SharpDagger]: Ezra? How do you know him? 

[CeeGull78]: We met on the Green and helped each other survive. Now he’s basically the only family I have. 

[SharpDagger]: And he’s alive? 

[CeeGull78]: Yes? Why did you think he wasn’t? 

[SharpDagger]: Because on record, he’s not.

[CeeGull78]: Well your record is a lie. Which is pretty skuffing shady if you ask me. 

[SharpDagger]: You’re sure? 

[CeeGull78]: I mean I’m not talking to him right now, but yeah. I’m sure. He’s coming to visit for family weekend. 

[CeeGull78]: Do you love him? 

[SharpDagger]: Excuse me? 

[CeeGull78]: It’s not a trick question and I’m not trying to mess with you. Do you love Ezra? Because it’s clear that he loves you from how protective he got when I mentioned reaching out to you. 

[SharpDagger]: I’ve never stopped loving him. 

[SharpDagger]: Wait a minute. Cee, how did you find me? My name was changed. 

[CeeGull78]: Easy. I got into the PBR database, and then CMI’s. Compared your registration number. 

[CeeGull78]: So you didn’t change your name to keep Ezra from finding you? 

[SharpDagger]: No, it was changed by CMI. Not my call. 

[SharpDagger]: Hold on. Do you mean you hacked CMI? Were you the one who deleted information from one of my reports? 

[CeeGull78]: Yeah. I was trying to make sure no one looked at that footage too closely.

[SharpDagger]: Oh, kid. 

[SharpDagger]: I guess you didn’t know that the date stamp on those reports changes every time the report is opened, did you? 

[CeeGull78]: I didn’t. Crud. Does that mean that guy Vayne knows? 

[SharpDagger]: Yes. You cannot do that again. I was able to smooth it over this time because I don’t want him looking too closely, either. I can’t have him know that Ezra is alive or that he’s connected to this. 

[CeeGull78]: Why? What happened with you two? 

[SharpDagger]: I think I should let him answer that. If he’s like family, I don’t want to tell you anything that might upset you or change how you look at him. 

[CeeGull78]: I know who he is. There’s nothing you could tell me that I couldn’t already guess, but I get it. 

[CeeGull78]: So will you come see him when he’s here? Can you come back to Lau in a few days? Say it’s for the investigation?

[SharpDagger]: I can’t do that. I can’t contact him while on the job. They’re always watching me. Especially on this case because I have ties to Aurelac. 

[CeeGull78]: How can we make it happen, then? 

[SharpDagger]: We can’t, kid. 

[CeeGull78]: What if I went digging in the records again and saw what they had on him? If they wanted you to believe he was dead, there must be a reason that they didn’t want him on your radar. Or anyone’s, I guess. Does he know something that he shouldn’t?

[SharpDagger]: Kevva fuck it. Why didn’t I think of that? Of course. He knows about the mercs that CMI hires to kill and capture violators that they can’t pin down. He knows because they came for us. He survived, and they didn’t want that getting out. So when they couldn’t find him after that, they reported him as dead. 

[CeeGull78]: Woah. 

[SharpDagger]: He must be using a different name then, if he’s got a place? If he can book travel? 

[CeeGull78]: I don’t know. It’s been the same since I met him. Ezra Silver. 

[SharpDagger]: Silver? 

[SharpDagger]: That was my nickname for him. Because of his silver tongue and that streak in his hair. And because I always teased him about coming in second to me in our silly little dig competitions. 

[CeeGull78]: I told you he loves you. 

[CeeGull78]: Are the reports the only things in the CMI database that have date stamps? Like if I go through the records will it leave a trail? 

[SharpDagger]: Yes. The reports are the only documents that have that function. But does he know you’re doing this? 

[CeeGull78]: No, in fact he told me not to. But he also told me to leave him to die on the Green and I didn’t listen then either. 

[SharpDagger]: Oh I can see exactly why he took a shine to you. 

[SharpDagger]: This is dangerous though. And like you said, you have a lot to lose. You really shouldn’t. 

[CeeGull78]: Look he’s the only reason that I have anything to lose at all. So I’ll risk it if you’re in. Just say the word. 

[SharpDagger]: Okay. Just stay out of the field reports. I’ll do what I can to steer Vayne away from this for as long as I can. How long will you need? 

[CeeGull78]: I’ll start as soon as we log out here. If I work all night… Maybe a day or two? I’ll message you when I have something. 

[SharpDagger]: Be careful. Please be careful. 

[CeeGull78]: That’s my middle name. ;) 

[SharpDagger]: That was not at all comforting. But I trust you. 

[CeeGull78]: Smart. See you soon, Dagger. 

_02/06/3096  _LST 09:36:22 PM  _YST 10:36:22 PM {PRIVATE CHANNEL CLOSED} 

Okay. Cee cracked open a carbonated zinger drink and took a sip before opening a new window on her screen. She adjusted her headphones and selected a playlist, and then got to work. 

Let’s see what I can find. 

Five hours in, she had found several documents connected to Ezra. The first was the false death certificate that had been filed by CMI with Puggart Bench’s hall of records. There was another that looked like a contract with some mercenaries stationed out of Kren that had been tasked with the kill or capture of both you and Ezra, but she couldn’t be sure because it was written in Krenish, and that wasn’t a language that she was familiar with. I can run it through my translator program though, no problem. 

The last thing she found made her stomach sick - a wanted poster, presumably from before CMI decided that simpy killing him on record was enough if they couldn’t actually do it. But it wasn’t the list of offenses that she found so upsetting. She’d known half of those things about him before she even knew his name. It was the fact that Ezra, the man she’d come to care about more than anyone else, the man who cared for her like she was his own kin (That’s exactly what we are, Birdie, she could hear him say) was the one being targeted. 

She stared at the poster, that uneasy feeling turning to heavy anger in her belly as she imagined bounty hunters and mercs spread out all over the Fringe, ready to kill him without hesitation. 

Oh, Ezra. 

She always knew he’d had it hard in life. She never expected that he’d have a two hundred thousand credit price on his head, though, and while there was still more exploring to do in CMI’s records, Cee decided that it was enough for the night. I don’t want to see anything worse than this right now. The translator would take all night, anyway. 

Climbing down from the loft, she plugged her laptop in to charge and pulled Ezra’s old flannel on over her t-shirt before climbing back up again with her headphones. Music helped silence her thoughts when they got too loud sometimes, but that night it did little to squat to help clear thoughts of Ezra being hunted. It did nothing at all to stop her from wondering if Damon hadn’t considered going after that bounty back before he started toting her along on every job. 

I wish I was home right now. Or that Ezra was here. 

Tears slipped from her eyes, dampening her pillowcase as she finally drifted to sleep. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

True to her word, Cee had gotten back to you less than two days later. 

She sent another link, this one disguised as blueprints and specs from the Glossoil pump where she’d left the original pile of Aurelac gems. But when you clicked it, it opened as a packet of documents that Cee had downloaded from CMI’s classified database. 

A wanted poster that you’d never seen but that made you gasp and cover your mouth. Look at him. Look at what they tried to do to him. 

The false death certificate, which you had seen before but was just as painful to see again. Even though I know he’s not… Kevva, Ezra, I shouldn’t have believed them. I’m so sorry. 

And the most damning piece of information by far, the fully translated contract that had been put out on both of you, all for the high crime of digging on sites that Central Mining had already abandoned commercially. This is… This would cause big waves. Especially because we can’t be the only ones they put contracts out on. 

The last thing was a note written by Cee that she’d uploaded instead of putting in the body of the message. 

Dagger, 

By the time Ezra gets here this weekend, I’ll have more documents to send you. Proof of more shady crud that CMI tried to hide. Will that be enough to go public? Or at least to get them to let you out of all this? If so, come to Cobalt Academy this weekend. Say you’re visiting a student for family weekend if you can’t say it’s for your case. We can all go public with it together. And you and Ezra can finally see each other again. 

Don’t reply. 

-Cee

A sudden flicker of adrenaline turned into a flood as you considered that you might only be days away from seeing him again. From being in his arms again, maybe. Or I might be only a couple days away from being responsible for his death, my imprisonment, and Cee being left to the Fringe. You let out a slow, shaky breath. No. This is going to work. We’ll finally be together. 

You saved the documents that Cee sent you to an external drive and slipped it into your smuggler’s pocket, then deleted the hidden documents and saved her message to the folder labeled “Cobalt Bay”, since anyone else who looked at it would only see the spec sheet she’d programed it to read as, and then you headed home to pack for a weekend trip to Lau. 

The most important weekend trip of my life. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“And we had our faces done with paint made from crushed Myllock shells, so it glowed all night long, and-”

Ezra beamed at Cee as she and her roommate regaled him with the stories they’d brought home from the previous weekend’s Myllock festival. The celebration of Lau’s most famous fauna, the bioluminescent cephalopods that were responsible for giving the planet its bright blue glow from space, was one of Lau’s most important annual cultural events. It had also been one of the things that Cee had been most excited about when she had been accepted into Cobalt Academy. Hearing that she’d been able to realize that wish alongside her desire for a formal education filled him with happiness. 

She has finally found a place to spread her wings. 

The three of them were sitting on the ledge of a large fountain in the center of Cobalt Academy’s quad, sun shining through the spray of water, breeze ruffling the reed grass surrounding the campus and playing with their hair. It was brisk, a reminder that cooler weather was right around the corner, but Ezra felt nothing but warmth. 

Eventually, Nash received an alert on her comm device, telling her that her parents had just arrived, and she excused herself to go meet them. “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Silver,” the girl said through a grin. Turning to Cee, she continued. “Maybe we can all go out for dinner tonight? You guys and my parents and I… I could see if Shay wants to come?” 

“That sounds delightful, Nash,” Ezra answered. 

But Cee responded differently. “Maybe,” she said with a soft smile. “Sounds nice, but maybe tomorrow?” She shrugged, rolling her eyes in Ezra’s direction. “Haven’t seen this one in a while. Kinda want to catch up tonight.”

Nash grinned. “Yeah, tomorrow works, too. You guys have fun. I’ll catch you later, Cee!” With that she was off, jogging towards the campus gates, long braids swinging side to side with her movement. 

“Well now, Birdie, I do believe when last we spoke you called me a sap.” Ezra raised an eyebrow, but couldn’t keep from also raising his mouth in a slight smirk. “It seems that the tables have been turned.” 

Cee shrugged and tried to keep a straight face. “Whatever.” 

Ezra laughed, the sound carrying across the quad. “Alright then. What would you like to do next, hmm? You mentioned that you wanted to give me a tour of the computer lab, did you not?” 

The girl closed her eyes and gave a dismissive shake of her head. “Yeah, but… tomorrow.” She sighed. “Right now I just want to sit here and-” She turned to look at him. “Just talk.” 

He tilted his head and gave her a small nod. “We can do that, Little Bird. I imagine that you have got that list of questions we spoke of ready to go?” 

She looked over his shoulder then, sucking in a breath as her eyes went wide. “Actually,” she said, bringing her gaze back to meet his, chewing her bottom lip. “There’s one more person we should talk to.” 

“Another friend? Someone who-” 

And then he heard it. The undeniable, soul-moving sound of your voice speaking his name, cutting deep into the center of his heart. Dagger? 

Mouth dropping open, he spent half a second giving Cee a questioning look, then slowly turned towards where he’d heard your voice. When he saw you standing there, dark glasses covering your eyes and a scarf tied around your head to hide your hair but still unmistakably you, he felt his lungs go empty and his heart stand still. It’s… she’s… He stood slowly, vaguely aware of Cee also rising to her feet. 

“Ezra,” you said again, a warble in your voice this time as you reached up to remove your glasses. “Oh, Kevva, Silver, it’s you. It’s-” You took a step closer, Ezra doing the same. “I-” 

He said your name then, reaching for you but holding back. Your eyes had fallen to the abrupt end of his right arm, and he saw them fill with shock. Of course. He swallowed hard, trying to get his heart back into his chest instead of clogging up his throat. Of course that would give her pause. Its-

But to his complete and utter surprise - which he realized, once he was able to access the rational part of his brain, where the memory of how deep your love had always run was kept - you were not deterred by his missing limb, nor did you give him a pitiful frown or treat him as though he were made of glass. Instead, you rushed forward and wrapped him in your arms, one going around his neck and the other slipping beneath his right arm. He immediately reciprocated your hold, his palm flattening against your shoulder blades, and when he felt you take a shuddering breath, he brought you even closer to his chest, bowing his head down to press his  cheek against your temple. 

How is this possible? 

“Are you really here?” He took a breath and flexed his fingers. “Is it truly you?” 

He knew it was. He knew it was you. Felt it in his bones, in his blood, in his very soul. But he had to ask anyway, had to hear you confirm it. Because he couldn’t for the life of him figure out how you were here, how he was breathing you in and feeling your heartbeat against his chest. 

“It’s me, Ezra,” you replied, nodding without pulling away. You were crying, he could hear it in your words and felt your tears dampen his shirt. “I’m so sorry it took me so damn long.” 

At that you both let out huffs of laughter - incredulous, effervescent, tear-tinted laughter - and he put enough distance between you to look into your eyes and swipe the wet skin beneath them with his thumb. “All is forgiven, Dagger.” You brought one hand up to the side of his face, your fingers sliding over the thin, curved scar there. “For there was never anything to forgive. Not for you. I am the one who failed to protect you. I’m the one who-” 

But you stopped him, in the best possible way, by pressing your lips to his in a lingering kiss. “You didn’t fail me, Ezra. You never could.” You kissed him again, then rested your forehead against his. “We were ambushed. Outnumbered. I never-” You sighed, closing your eyes and shaking your head. “I never blamed you, Ezra. Never.” 

He was about to respond when Cee cleared her throat, stepping closer to where the two of you stood and crossing her arms. “This is super heartwarming and all, but I think we should move it inside.” To you, she said, “Your disguise is nice and all but if you were followed, we shouldn’t be out in the open.” Turning to Ezra, she smirked. “Plus, everyone’s staring. You two are like maxing out on PDA right now and-” 

Ezra chuckled, releasing you to ruffle the girl’s hair. “Point taken, Birdie.” He frowned at her then, but the expression didn’t hold because he was far too overjoyed to even fake it. “Though I do remember telling you not to interfere here,” he cocked his head towards you, “I am very glad that you did not listen.” 

She scrunched her nose. “I knew you would be. Now c’mon.” She sighed. “We have some things to discuss and some shady skuffing stuff to blow wide open.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was summer when the three of you moved into the dune house in Sand Harbor. 

And it was the best summer of your lives.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

thank you for reading!

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@wildmoonflower @mswarriorbabe80 @theredwritingwitch @silverstarsandsuns @pedro-pedrito-pascalito

@jedi-in-crocs @anoverwhelmingdin @chiyo13 @myloveistoolittle @spishsstuff

@noisynightmarepoetry @Severin-proud @Vickie5446 @jessthebaker

[whoredyceps]

"OH LOVER BOY!" || 28 Days of Love: A Valentine's Series

a/n: Hi! I always see such amazing writing challenges by fic authors, and I wanted to take a crack at it! Really, I want to write 28 days worth of Valentine's Day-esque content. Feel free to join in you'd like! ♡

you can find the masterlist here!

a mix of quotes and prompts! ambiguous for the sake of sweet spicy, and even angsty if you're feeling it.

ㅤ♡ day one: a secret admirer

ㅤ♡ day two: "it's okay, i couldn't sleep anyways."

ㅤ♡ day three: the morning after

ㅤ♡ day four: a blind date

ㅤ♡ day five: a bouquet of flowers

ㅤ♡ day six: "i can't stand you."

ㅤ♡ day seven: "just stay near me. please."

ㅤ♡ day eight: fuzzy pink handcuffs

ㅤ♡ day nine: leather and lace

ㅤ♡ day ten: love at first sight

ㅤ♡ day eleven: good night

ㅤ♡ day twelve: "for you, i would."

ㅤ♡ day thirteen: "you're so full of shit."

ㅤ♡ day fourteen: "i love you."

ㅤ♡ day fifteen: old wounds

ㅤ♡ day sixteen: puppy love

ㅤ♡ day seventeen: and they were roommates!

ㅤ♡ day eighteen: a forgotten date

ㅤ♡ day nineteen: anniversary

ㅤ♡ day twenty: "stop distracting me."

ㅤ♡ day twenty one: love letters

ㅤ♡ day twenty two: "are you sure you want to do this?"

ㅤ♡ day twenty three: honeymooners

ㅤ♡ day twenty four: "i missed you."

ㅤ♡ day twenty five: in the middle of the night

ㅤ♡ day twenty six: possessive

ㅤ♡ day twenty seven: "i'm too sober for this."

ㅤ♡ day twenty eight: "we could get caught-!"

[yomi345345345]

Meow.

[mothandpidgeon]

Nine Lives (witch's familiar!Ezra x witch!f!reader) - Part 5

Moth's Masterlist // follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: witch's familiar!Ezra x witch!f!reader

rating: E MDNI

summary: As you came into your powers and your curves filled in, Ezra realized he feelings for you were more than just affection. The only problem? He's a 300 year old crused witch. Oh, and he's a cat.

contents: age gap (like 300 years), alcohol, yearning masturbation, vegan slander, moth never uses y/n.

wc: 6.2k

a/n: Today feels like a really rough day in the US so I wanted to share this new chapter. Hopefully it'll take your mind off things. I've had a really really hard time writing this chapter. Really glad I stuck with it and struggled through. Could not have done this without input and beta from @moonlitbirdie @schnarfer and @whocaresstillthelouvre. Thank you my little witches!

🐈‍⬛

With Margot’s reprieve, life with Ezra becomes the new normal. Weeks pass and he’s slotted into your day to day so easily. Grocery shopping, breakfast at the cafe down the street. He comes to work with you. Except now, instead of lounging on top of a dusty bookshelf, he helps man the cash register. 

Despite your aunt’s insistence that she would not under any circumstances be involved with this “conspiracy” (her word), she had pointed you in the direction of a vieling spell that would keep Ezra’s transformation under wraps. You and he cast the ward around town hoping it might buy some time but you’ll have to come clean eventually.

“By Yuletide, you’d better come up with a proper appeal,” Aunt Margot said. “People will ask questions if you’re absent and I’m not going to lie.”

There’s still time and so you choose to enjoy this secret, this new chapter with Ezra.

You’re smiling to yourself as you climb the stairs to the second floor of the Page with a book in your hands. It’s an antique school primer someone just brought in for Margot to appraise. Nothing special except that the little darling that once owned it filled the margins with dirty limericks and pencil sketchings of cock and balls. Some things never change, no matter what century it is. Ezra will get a kick out of it. He probably knows a few lewd poems himself. 

You hang back when you find him beside the front window. Soft morning light falls over the angular planes of his face. There’s a divot in the center of his throat just visible above the collar of his olive sweatshirt that always catches your eye. You still haven’t quite gotten used to the fact that your old pal Ezra is so damn handsome. Not that you’re attracted to him. He’s just attractive. You’ve reminded yourself of the distinction between that many times over the past few weeks. 

But it’s not the cast of the sun that has you hesitating. Ezra’s talking to a customer, his crooked smile revealing the dimple in his cheek, with a tarot deck in his hands.

“And it was the exact image I’d seen when I took ayahuasca,” she says. “The four of cups.”

“Well, cards are certainly prophetic,” he says, his voice edging on a tease. 

You know her— Zoe’s a regular. She moved into town after backpacking through South America, and waitresses at the diner. She comes in to buy crystals from time to time and she’s good for business. Ever since the diner got written up as one of the “hidden gems of the Catskills,” she sends more and more of her customers over to the Page. 

She’s been stopping in even more recently, the shop’s newest doe-eyed employee obviously her motivation. Twice a week you find her in conversation with Ezra. In fact, she’s given up the pretense that she’s actually shopping for anything anymore. 

“Have you ever had your aura photographed?” she asks. 

“No. A picture of me is a rare thing, indeed,” he says. 

Zoe’s the exact kind of mortal Ezra detests– always talking about “getting into wicca” as if magic is a hobby she can try on– but she’s beautiful. She has hazel eyes and razor sharp cheekbones. Her slim arms are tattooed with delicate talismen and her haircuts seamlessly straddle the border between chic and edgy. 

“I know a place down in Woodstock where you can get it done. Next time I’m going, maybe you can tag along,” she offers. 

There’s a sparkle in Ezra’s eye that makes your chest tight.

You retreat to the stairs before you hear his answer. The sensation building in you is a stab, a flare of something bitter and dark. You’re not sure why you’re jealous because you don’t have feelings for Ezra. Okay, maybe a little crush. But you’ve got that in check. You’re not going to fall for your best friend just because he woke up with the most handsome face you’ve ever seen.

And you’re definitely not intimidated by Zoe’s waif-like frame and heavily lidded eyes. Next to her, you look like an ogre. But why would you need to compare yourself to her? And why shouldn’t Ezra get to bang a goddess when he has a mouth that should be sculpted in marble?  

You realize how ridiculous this train of thought is becoming so you shove it down as tightly as you can, actually shaking your head as though this insanity might tumble out of your ear.

“You okay?” 

Zoe’s standing in front of you at the register, the tarot deck set on the counter between you.

“You’re buying something,” you say, though it’s more of a question than a statement.

“This deck has a really good vibe,” she tells you. “Ezra picked it out.”

Hearing her say his name, you’re like a cat with its hair standing on end. 

“He’s got the same name as your cat. Isn’t that funny,” she notes.

“I see how you look at him,” you say. It’s not meant to come out as an accusation but there’s a bite to your words you weren’t expecting. You’re being ridiculous so you decide to prove to yourself once and for all that your feelings are strictly platonic. The faster you see Ezra with someone, the quicker this little crush will die. 

Luckily, Zoe doesn’t notice it. “That obvious, huh?”

“You should take him for a drink. He’d like that,” you say. Something like relief comes over you. Obviously you’re not jealous. If you were, you wouldn’t have tried to set him up.

“You think so?” she asks, glancing back towards the stairs. “I tried to give him my number but he told me he doesn’t have a phone.”

You try to keep yourself from laughing at what a devastating rejection that would be if it weren't true.

“He actually doesn’t,” you say.

“Really?” 

You shrug.

She nods. “That’s smart. The EMF really messes with your brainwaves.”

“Hm,” you say with a noncommittal nod. “Well, I’ll have him send you a letter or something.”

–

Ezra used to trot down the stairs of the bookstore. Now he has to duck to keep his head from smacking into the shelf that hangs over the doorframe. 

It’s taken some time to get used to his body again but after these few weeks, he’s navigating the world with ease. Ezra hasn’t felt this happy in hundreds of years. He’s doing magic for the first time in a long time and he spends his days working in the bookstore. It’s oddly enjoyable even despite the fact that it’s dull and full of silly mortals. Best of all, there’s you. 

He still can’t comprehend how lucky he is to be given this gift. To be yours. Even if he isn’t anymore, not beholden by the fetters of a familiar, he’ll never stop thinking of himself as belonging to you. 

You’re smiling at him as he comes to the counter and he has to resist the urge to nuzzle his head into your shoulder as he used to greet you. If there’s one thing he misses about being a cat, it’s your scratching behind his ears.

“I got you a date with her,” you say.

“The vegan?” Ezra asks.

“Yeah,” you say with a laugh. “The vegan that you shamelessly flirt with.”

Ezra furrows his brow. He was once quite the charmer but he hasn’t intended to do anything more than amuse himself. Over and over, this woman batted her eyelashes at him and Ezra carefully demurred each time. She was pretty. Perhaps some time ago he would have liked to bed her but he has no designs on her now, not when he falls asleep swimming in the scent of your skin each night.

”You shouldn’t have done that,“ he says.

”Why not? She’s so into you,” you reply.

Ezra says nothing because his answer would give it all away. Instead he grabs a handful of bookmarks decorated with pressed flowers and busies himself putting them on a table on the other side of the room. 

“You’ve been celibate for how long?” you go on, following behind.

“No need for reminders.” 

“We need to get you laid!” you say so helpfully. ”Are you blushing?”

If Ezra’s red in the face, it’s only because he’s realizing what a fool he’s being. You’re ready to send him off to another while he’s madly in love with you. He shouldn’t be surprised. He couldn’t expect that you were going to suddenly leap into his arms with any of the enthusiasm Zoe’s shown him. Maybe he thought there was some chance, some faint hope that you could belong just as much to him. 

But this makes your feelings so clear. You’re not interested. You’re ready to pawn him off on some ridiculous mortal.

”What’s wrong? She too young for you or something?” you tease. 

Zoe is, no doubt, attractive and she’d made it clear that she’s ready to take him to bed, both facts that should have elated him. The problem was, she wasn’t you. And you were someone he’d never have. 

“I can manage my own matchmaking,“ he grumbles. He moves on to a stack of books, straightening their spines though they’re hardly askew. Anything to keep himself from looking at you, being reminded that you’re off limits.

“Ez, she’s been throwing herself at you.“ 

”I suppose in my time I’ve learned to savor the hunt.“ 

“Oh please. You used to eat out of my hand. You should be thanking me,” you say. 

Thanking you for pushing him into the arms of another. His despair calcifies into a rotten resentment. You don’t want him, you never will. 

“I’d much prefer it if you didn’t involve yourself,” he says. It’s nearly impossible to keep the venom out of his voice.

You scoff. In the corner of his eye, you’re frowning. ”Okay. If I’d known you were going to be such a dick about it, I wouldn’t have bothered,” you say, and then you turn around shaking your head and walk away.

He watches you stomp into the next room, regret flooding him. He shouldn’t be so mean, not to you, but the damage has been done. There’s hardly time to think about it because Margot is breezing in from the back door with Percy riding high on her shoulder, the sound of her bracelets filling the store with their music. Ezra sets his features in as neutral an expression he can manage.

“Oh, Ezra, dear. Just who I was looking for,” she says. “Come here a minute.”

She sets a wide box that’s tied with a grosgrain ribbon on the counter.

“What’s this?” he asks.

“Open it.” 

He looks from her to her familiar before he pulls the dark ribbon and lifts the lid. Inside is something he hasn’t seen in a dog’s age. The memories it brings back makes his lips tick up in an absent smile. 

“Robes,” he says. “How did you—?”

“We found a description in Goody Cartwright’s diary in the basement,” Margot said. “Dusted off the old sewing machine.”

Percival scampers down her arm to climb into the box. He crawls beneath a sleeve and lifts the hem in his paws, standing on his hind legs.

“I hope they turned out,” Margot says.  

“Mine were nearly identical,” Ezra says as he wistfully inspects the fabric.

He still remembers the feel of the homespun linen against his skin. His robes always smelled of woodsmoke from the moon revels. They had been stained with wine and goat’s milk, the bottom edge besotted with moss and rainwater.

“It was Percy’s idea,” she says.

The mouse ducks his head bashfully when Ezra looks up at him. 

Ezra swallows down the lump in his throat. He’s moved, jaw gripped as he tries to stop from shedding tears. Another gift he’s not worthy of, compounded by the fact that he’s just upset you again. You were doing for him what you’ve always done– taking care of him, showing him that you loved him. If only he could accept it’s not the way he wants it.

He sets his hand out on the countertop. 

“Percival,” he says. 

After some hesitation, Percy steps into Ezra’s palm. Ezra brings the mouse up so that he sits at eye level. 

“I deserve a much starker retribution from you, friend,” Ezra says. “I hope you’ll forgive my misdeeds.”

Percy cocks his head to the side. 

“He says he’ll think about it,” Margot tells him. 

Ezra grins. He offers a finger which Percy takes in his paw and they shake hands. 

“You can wear them this weekend. Sunday’s your first full moon since you turned,” Margot says. 

Ezra had forgotten all about the phases of the moon. How could he be expected to keep track of such things when there were so many new things to experience?

”We’ll celebrate,” Margot insists.

He wants to protest. Right now he doesn't feel much like frivolity, can’t imagine you’ll want to join in with any festivities when he’s been such a complete and total ass. But he knows he ought to learn his lesson and accept.

“I look forward to it,” he says.

Percy squeaks happily and Margot claps her hands together.

“Come on, Percy! There’s much to be done!” she says before disappearing into the back room.

-

The rest of the day is tense between you and Ezra, with few words exchanged. He’s lived with you long enough that it’s not your very first squabble but, in the past, it was much easier to stay out from underfoot. The apartment feels so much smaller now that he’s human, its walls crushing when there’s silence between you. It’s at its worst when you announce you’re going to bed. It feels cold, lacking an invitation, and so Ezra waits in the kitchen for a long while wondering if you want him beside you at all. 

Some time after you’ve turned off the light, he slinks in nervously. He might as well be sneaking into the bed, though for all intents and purposes, it’s become just as much his as it is yours. He’s shared it with you from that very first night. Neither of you raised the notion of his sleeping elsewhere so it became a habit. He wonders now, more strongly than ever, if he’s overstayed his welcome. 

You lay facing the window but he knows your breathing well enough to see you’re not yet sleeping. He lays on the cold sheets hating himself for loving you, for taking advantage of you, for disappointing you.  

“I shouldn’t have accused you of meddling,” he says quietly.

Ezra has accepted the fact that he’ll have to take this mortal out despite having no interest in her. There’s no good reason not to, as you so aptly showed him, and if he doesn’t you’ll want to know why.

At some point in the late afternoon he decided that he would make the best of it. He would stop kidding himself and accept that you had no romantic feelings for him and try to keep an open mind with Zoe. At the very worst, he’d finally get a long overdue fuck. How could a man mope over that? 

But seeing the slope of your shoulder in the moonlight, your eyelashes fluttering as you turn your face up to the ceiling, makes him realize just how impossible is the task that lies ahead of him. 

You sigh and turn over, sheets rustling with your movement. There’s just enough light in the room to shine in your sweet eyes as you look at him and tuck a hand under your pillow. 

“Ez, it’s okay. I know why you got upset,” you say. 

His heart skips a beat. Of course you know. He’s been so obvious, how could you not see it? He swallows hard, unsure of what he’ll say when you call him out. It feels like an age passes as he waits for you to say the words. 

“You haven’t been with anybody for a long time. If you’re not ready, I get it,” you say and you put a gentle hand over his. 

A little laugh escapes him. How absurdly wrong he’d been. He sinks deeper into his self pity. How could he ever imagine a creature as kind and beautiful as you would want him? A reprobate, hundreds of years old. A fucking cat.

“Yes, well, I suppose if she’s as smitten as you believe I’ve nothing to worry about,” he says. 

A smile cracks across your lips and your gaze melts over his face. You brush your palm across his cheek and Ezra can’t help but close his eyes and lean into the touch of your warm skin. 

“How could she not be?” you say.

Your gaze lingers on him, your expression difficult to read. There’s nothing but the sound of your soft breaths and the whisper of dry leaves outside the window. His heart aches, wishing he could curl himself around you and say the words that live on the tip of his tongue. But the moment passes as you pull your hand back to your side of the mattress and the gulf between you feels wider than ever. He lays awake for what feels like hours wishing he was still a cat so he could sleep in your embrace.

-

You lay on the couch with a book spread open on your lap but you haven’t been able to read a single page. Ezra’s out with Zoe which is fine. Totally fine. You made it happen after all, even gave him some cash for drinks and coaching on the dating scene. 

“I’m newly human but I wasn’t born yesterday. I’m well acquainted with the customs and mores of modern courtship,” he protested. 

“Do you even hear yourself right now?” you asked. 

For a moment, you almost fooled yourself into thinking he wasn’t interested in her. He’d been so prickly when you brought it up. There have been times when you wonder. You’ll catch him looking at you in a way that makes your heart flutter. Or his touch will remain just a moment longer than it needs to, days when you wake up and question if his morning wood is actually for you and not just a fact of human biology. But of course not. And that’s fine.

It’s been a while since you’ve had the apartment to yourself— certainly not in the weeks since Ezra became human— and you’ve had little down time. There’s always some new adventure to take him on. Not that you’re complaining. It’s been the most thrilling time of your life. 

This whole date situation is good, actually, because you could really use a night alone. At least that’s what you’ve been telling yourself. 

You poured yourself a glass of wine and lit some incense, cracked open the book. A good start. That’s about all you managed. You keep thinking about how it’s going with Ezra. What could they be talking about? Is he having fun? Maybe he’ll actually like her. Wouldn’t that be….something?

Things could never get romantic between the two of you anyway. You wouldn’t risk your friendship, so many years of trust and affection. It’s too precious to you. Besides, there must be something unethical about dating someone that’s been sworn to serve and protect you.

Not that you want to do that.

You snap the book shut and toss it on the coffee table, sitting up. You need to stop being weirdly obsessed with this date. Ezra is your friend, you remind yourself, and you’re excited for him. You just need something more engrossing. 

You put on a period piece. Nothing like a night in with ballgowns and wine. You put your feet up on the table and try to lose yourself in the movie. Ezra is such a pedant when it comes to historical dramas, always pointing out the inaccuracies, complaining about the costumes.

You wish he were here now groaning over the cut of a coat. You wish he was here instead of–

This isn’t working. You know what always clears your mind? A bath. 

The clawfoot tub is filled with oils and herbs, the little bathroom flickers in candle light. You slide deeper into the warm water, focus on the way your muscles unwind. You hadn’t even noticed you were so tense. This was a good call. There’s a knot in your shoulder you massage with your hand. Finally feeling serene, your wet fingers coming to slide across your chest. The water drips peacefully out of the faucet and your cheeks bloom with the alcohol and heat. Maybe Ezra should go on more dates, get the place to yourself more often.

You know what would really make you feel relaxed? Your fingers drift below the water, and skate down your belly and your eyes come to close. It’s been over a month since you got off– Connor (though most of the credit should really go to your passion elixir). It’s been impossible to rub one out with someone else in your bed. At least when Ezra was a cat, he spent a lot of time prowling the woods and being moody. Maybe he’d heard you back then, a thought that somehow equally horrifies and thrills you. 

You touch yourself with a slow, delicate hand and you’re lost in the idea of him watching you now. His chocolate eyes hungry but his body still, the only movement he allows is the rise and fall of his chest. How many times had he seen you, all of you, and not looked away? 

You shiver imagining him, urging you to show him how you take yourself apart. Studying, appreciating. Savoring. Throbbing at each twitch in your brow as you crest and your breath hitches. Even in the water you can feel yourself growing slick, a coil of need winding, and you bite down on your bottom lip. Your mind swirls, your body taught.

He’d be calling you dirty and pretty and good in his flowery prose, stroking your cheek with his knuckles and you unfurl a moan so loud because you don’t have to stay quiet, you’ve got the place to yourself.

Before you’ve even come down from your high, you're flooded with the sting of reality.

No matter how wrong or immoral or risky it is, there’s no denying it– your feelings for Ezra are anything but platonic. And he’s on a date with another woman.

You press the heels of your hands into your eyes with a groan. 

The thought of facing Ezra after this revelation makes your stomach turn. You can almost see him sauntering in, hair mussed, body slack from his sexual conquest. It burns a hole in your chest, a scream practically rising in your throat. And you’ll, what, go on living with him, smelling his musk on your sheets and not go completely insane?

You pull the plug from the drain. So much for the bath. It’s early yet but the only thing you can do to help yourself now is be unconscious. There’s no way you’re going to fall asleep with your thoughts racing so you brew up a sleeping draught in the kitchen. With any luck, you won’t have any dreams either.

-

Ezra’s side of the bed is empty and cold. Mid-morning sun glows on the walls of your bedroom and you’re just waking up, the effects of the potion still making your head groggy. But eventually it dawns on you. He’s not there. 

It shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. Your eyes sting with tears, your gut sinking with the weight of it. You imagine Ezra curled up in bed with her. Morning sex. Breakfast. You want to puke. 

After a long while pulling yourself together, you realize it’s better this way. The last thing you need is to wake up next to Ezra smelling like sex and the patchouli notes of Zoe’s perfume. 

You can’t sulk. You need to get up, get over it.

When you step out of your bedroom, you stop short at the discovery that Ezra’s asleep on the couch. So he didn’t spend the night. It does little to soothe your aching heart. In fact, it somehow feels worse. He looks so perfect, long legs bare and brow smooth, mouth turned down in a pout. It’s not fair you have to survive around a man so perfect.

You go into the bathroom and close the door a little too loud a little on purpose. 

Maybe there’s a potion for falling out of love.

-

Ezra’s dragged himself up by the time you step back into the living room, woken by the slam of the door. He had the damndest time sleeping on that couch. Never realized how lucky he’s been to share the bed. 

You stop outside the bathroom door, arms akimbo, and your oversized sleep shirt rides up your thighs. 

“Well?” you ask. 

Ezra can’t help but smirk at your down to business attitude.

Well indeed. 

Zoe had been fine company. Not hard to look at even if the conversation left a little to be desired. His favorite part of the evening came when Zoe brought up the shop and, in turn, you. It was difficult not to let his words run away from him.

Despite his best efforts, knowing that he should give over and accept this, his mind kept slipping back to his little mage. What you would look like in the little frock Zoe had chosen, the jokes that only you would understand. You’d helped him pick out clothes for the evening, a soft woolen sweater you swore wasn't too tight. All night, he kept remembering the drag of your eyes over his arms before you said, “You look really good.” He wants you to look at him like that all the time.

”She’s not intolerable for a mortal,“ he says. 

“‘Not intolerable.’ Sounds like Ezra for bangable,” you say. “So?”

Perhaps in another universe, Ezra would have had a splendid time, would have debauched himself. He’d left after only two drinks, a look of disappointment on Zoe’s face that he wouldn’t soon forget. Had he been a better man, he would’ve felt worse about it but he couldn’t care about anything but you. As he walked briskly from the bar, he resolved to tell you everything, that he couldn’t stand even the suggestion that he sleep with someone else when you consume him. Good sense be damned. What was the point of being human if he had to live like this?

But he came home to find the apartment dark, your bedroom door shut. He listened there before opening it ajar to see you sleeping peacefully. Reality sunk in, fast and hard. A confession could ruin everything. His home, the only family he knew, the people he loved. He couldn’t risk losing you. 

If he woke you, he’d have you face the question you’d just asked so he’d curled up under the throw blanket on the couch, as he had so many times before.

“I won't make a braggart of myself,” he says, sidestepping the question.

You roll your eyes and head back to your bedroom in a hurry. 

Ezra’s shoulders sag with a deep sigh.

-

Sunday morning in the shop is slower than usual. It’s maddening, leaving you with too much time to meditate on your sorrows as you hide behind the cash register. Every time your eyes land on Ezra, you’re treated to fresh torment. For some reason you can’t stop picturing him fucking her doggy style with wild thrusts of his hips.

“Tea, dear?” Margot asks. Her rings tink against a spoon as she stirs honey into her tea cup. Mint and ginger fills your nostrils. 

You merely grunt in reply but hear her setting another cup out for you. There’s a clink of porcelain and Margot clicks her tongue.

“Your bad mood is sullying the energy in here,” she tuts.

You turn to find her wicking spilled tea off of her hand.

“I’m not in a bad mood,” you say too quickly. 

What kind of mood are you supposed to be in when you realize you’re in love with your best friend who was, until recently, a cat, and said friend spent the night with another woman? When there’s a chance that this was all for naught when the Elders find out and turn you into a newt?

Margot scoffs and lights a stick of palo santo, wafting its smoke in your direction. 

“You’d better not bring that energy into the full moon,” she says. “I don’t need to feel all mopey for the next fortnight.”

You cross your arms. 

“Are you still mad at me?” you ask. Margot’s been welcoming to Ezra but you still feel her ambivalence towards you. It hangs in the air the same as your sour aura. 

“Mad at you,” she repeats, pouring another cup of tea. “Why? Because you implicated me and Percy in a crime that I’m concealing from the Elders? I should be, shouldn’t I?” 

You sink deeper into your frown. Margot hands you the teacup. 

“But I haven’t seen you this happy in a long time. Besides whatever bee is in your bonnet today,” she adds with an arched brow. “And that’s made me very happy.”

You look at her, your lip quivering. Margot’s been there for you longer than Ezra, taught you everything you know about magic and given you an unconditional love you can hardly fathom even in adulthood. You nearly spill your tea again, setting it aside so you can throw your arms around her.

She stumbles backwards with an “Oof” and chuckles into your ear. Her open palm warms your back.

“It’s all in the stars,” she says.

And, right now, you have to believe she’s right.

-

Through the long sleeves of your velvet dress, you feel the chill in the air. It’s much colder than the last time you were in these woods for the solstice. Of course, this is a much different kind of celebration. The fire is smaller, there’s less paraphernalia involved. It’s just the four of you— you and Ezra, Margot and Percy— but it feels more joyful. 

Margot leads you in a ritual to draw down the moon, then sets out an ornate jar of water to charge in its light. You and Ezra help her cast some spells. She swears the ones done under a full moon have the strongest effect. 

But mostly the night is for merry making. There’s wine and incense and apple cider caramels. Margot perches on a tree stump and plays a few songs on her concertina and Ezra insists that you dance with him.

You do, putting your hands into his and letting him spin you in circles. Margot’s words ring in your ears. You can be happy that he’s happy even if it makes your heart ache. At least now, safe from the rest of the world, hands clasped together, you can pretend. 

Ezra looks so handsome in his new robes, you almost wonder if there’s an enchantment on them. The white patch in his hair glows as if the moon came down and kissed him on the forehead. His cheeks are pink and he’s as breathless as you. 

You’re both laughing when the music ends and you let your hand stay in Ezra’s for a while, wanting the fantasy to last just a little bit longer. 

“Now I must insist on a dance with you,” he says to Margot. He holds out a hand to her but doesn’t let go of yours yet. 

“I’m playing the music!” she says. 

“There must be an incantation that will make that squeezebox play itself,” he says and he slips from your grip to pull her to her feet. 

Percy scrambles off of her lap and hops onto your knee as you flop down on the ground. 

“I’ll sing!” you say.

“Goodness no!” Margot says. 

You all laugh and Ezra releases her after a few twirls.

Since it’s his party, Ezra takes the liberty of sharing his favorite stories. He sits beside you on the ground, animatedly narrating his wildest adventures. You’re pretty sure half of them are pure fabrication but he’s having so much fun recounting them, you don’t question even the most outlandish of details. The fire warms your face. Though, considering how it’s dying down, it could just be his glow. Ezra loves being at the center of attention and you wonder the last time he had the chance to command so much of it. He hasn’t stopped smiling since the sun set, that gorgeous dimple growing deeper with each hour. You love seeing him like this, full of excitement and life. 

Eventually, the moon hangs full overhead and Percy curls up to sleep on Margot’s shoulder. The crackle of the fire slows and you throw your head back to look at the sky dotted with so many twinkling stars. For the first time since Ezra left for his date, you feel peaceful. He’s quiet now and you try to catch another glimpse of him in the dark only to find his dark eyes shining at you. He smiles tenderly, and your whole body warms with affection. You can almost believe it’s a look of longing.

Margot slaps her hands against her thighs and stands, breaking your gaze. 

“Well, I’d better go before I turn into a pumpkin,” she says. 

“Oh, come on. It’s early,” you say. 

“We’ll brew you something to wake you in the morning,” Ezra offers. 

“That’s alright. Enjoy,” she says. Before she heads back into the trees, she takes Ezra’s hand and gives it a squeeze and pats you on the shoulder. 

You’re quiet for a long time, watching the fire die down. It comes back to you, slowly at first, then a flood of emotion, the uncertainty of your future. This night has been a gift but, one way or another, you’re destined to lose Ezra. There’s a melancholy look on his face that hints he might be thinking about the same things. 

“Should we retire then?” he asks after a sigh. 

“Wait. I want to give you something,” you say. Margot arranged this whole evening and you feel like you’ve shown up to a party empty handed.

“You’ve given more than enough.”

“Well, apparently I’ve been putting off really bad vibes. So a protection spell.” You rise to your feet.

Ezra pulls himself up with your help and this time you don’t allow him to let go. You take both of his hands in yours, his rough fingers entwined in your own, and he watches you, with a fond curiosity on his face. He flusters you. His gaze is so intense, you have a hard time meeting his eye.

“Okay,” you say, shaking out your limbs. 

Magic tingles where your palms meet and you notice that his thumb traces yours gently. Having spent the night before without him seems to double the intimacy of the moment. He looks downright beautiful like this, the angles of his face outlined in fire and moonlight. It’s almost unbearable. 

“Ezra,” you start.

His lips part at the sound of his name.

“I protect you with my magic and my spirit,” you say.

He can surely feel it surrounding him like an embrace. It’s so intense, you can barely fill your lungs. His eyes are so soft, round and sweet. They glisten in the darkness. 

“And my heart,” you add, your voice breaking.

You put your palm against his cheek, the pad of your thumb tracing the hairline scar there, to seal the spell and he takes in a sharp little gasp at your touch. There’s a look in his eye, beseeching, and you feel the tug of his magic, drawing you in closer like a knot tightening between you. It’s a whisper, so faint you’re probably imagining it, but you follow it to him, to his lips. 

Before you even realize it, you’re kissing him. Tender and aching and it feels like relief to have his mouth on yours, to taste the wine on his tongue. His lips are soft and hesitant. Your body molds against him, it always does. You’ve been in his arms so many times before and yet it’s never felt more right than this very moment. 

Except that it’s wrong. There are all of those reasons why this can’t be, how awkward it will be when he stops you, when he goes back to sleeping on the couch. Suddenly you’re pulling away despite your body screaming for you to do anything else.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe. “I shouldn’t have– Shit!” You swallow down a lump in your throat.

Ezra holds you firm by your elbows, pulling your hand away from your lips and shaking his head.

“Little mage, I have wanted nothing more for longer than you can know,” he says, his eyes crinkling with a smile.

You stare at him, wide eyed, mouth agape, trying to make sense of his words. Your heart flips and you let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

And then he kisses you again and again and again.

🐈‍⬛

Comments and reblogs appreciated! Asks always open! I'd love to hear from you!

[kedsandtubesocks]

💌 Joel Miller’s love… feels like a lighthouse, the unwavering guiding force in the storm that brings you home everytime

💌 Javier Peña’s love… is steady and true, like the Texas sunsets that often have so many different shades, but are open and wrap their warmth around you

💌 Frankie Morales’s love… is a phone call answered at 2am, never hesitating to be by your side no matter what because you’re the center of his world

💌 Din Djarin’s love… bleeds as pure as his beskar, shining with loyalty, molded and forged to only you that it transcends galaxies

💌 Dieter Bravo’s love… matches his eclectic soul like a fun house, dazzling sometimes slightly confusing, but every surprise for you is out of pure adoration

💌 Marcus Pike’s love… is a cozy night in, a bit simple at the surface but reliable and warm to embrace in the comforts it promises you

💌 Jack Daniel’s love… feels like a night at an amusement park, you might not know what wild ride you see but it’s memorable and leaves you breathless

💌 Ezra’s love… is like the sea at night, beautiful and a bit mysterious but drawing you in with its unknown depths every time

[milla-frenchy]

Recs | March 25

March readings, and celebrating March fic madness 25 @the-blind-assassin 💚

Please, rb the fics you appreciated, that's how they live 💚🙏

Check the warnings before reading, some of the fics are very dark

Joel Miller

Painting with Joel @beardedjoel

Movie night @aurorawritestoescape

A movie night ends with a bang

Where there's smoke @joelswhcre

You should’ve stayed away from joel miller the first time. but instead, you let him have you—once, then again, and again. you swore each time would be the last. but joel? he was never going to let you go that easily. and now, standing in a dark supply closet with his hands on your body and his cock buried deep inside you—whilst your boyfriend watches from the doorway—you’re finally realising what he meant when he said, "you’re mine."

Asking Joel to choke you @slamminslamminmcgill

We stay silly @corazondebeskar-reads

You and joel have a peaceful moment for both silliness and filth

Good boy @sp00kymulderr

The prophecy @schnarfer

Joel Miller is the loss of your life

Perfect @aurorawritestoescape

Joel comforts you and helps you to overcome your insecurities, pampering you with praise and love

Bad friend @joelstummy

What's a girl to do when she discovers her friend's husband may share an extreme kink that she's yet to be able to find her match for? Well, she plays with fire. And relishes in the burn

A doctor's care (re re re re re read ✨) @pedge-page

The wolf you feed part 6 @arcanefox207

Set in fictional New England town, you fall for your handsome, intense and outdoorsy neighbor while renting out your parent's vacant summer home during a brutal winter

Be my guest @aurorawritestoescape

Working as a hotel housekeeper, you meet a handsome guest under quite unexpected circumstances. An awkward conversation leads to a friendly relationship that grows into something none of you expects

Happy to help @itwasntimethatdidit40

You get turned on reading smut in a cafe and someone seems to know exactly what you need

Nice and slow @joelsknees

A quiet horny morning with joel

The human condition @metaphoricgibberish

Violet Wood is lost, thinks perhaps she's been lost since the day she was born. Joel Miller is a psychiatrist who has experienced a tremendous loss of his own. Neither of them are expecting each other

Rested @toxicanonymity

Joel is on his best behavior, but it's hard

Joel and Tommy Miller

Collared part 3 | part 4 | part 5 @tateypots

You are kidnapped by Joel and Tommy 3 years after the outbreak. This is a work of dark fiction, please heed the warnings and protect yourselves

Javier Peña

Baby, where's your underwear? @iknowisoundcrazy

Javi persuades you to go commando in the office

Ashes @inept-the-magnificent

Hands to myself @gothcsz

You get to know the handsome stranger sitting next to you on your overnight flight to Mexico

Lunch @oliveksmoked

Tim Rockford

Homecoming @604to647

Detective Rockford returns from weeklong tactical training

Marcus Pike

Backyard gardening @secretelephanttattoo

Pero Tovar

Stargazing with Pero @sawymredfox

Ambrosia @sawymredfox

Pero and his love enjoy a lovely afternoon together

Marcus Moreno

Nobody's gonna know @604to647

Acacius

I can't hear it now @joelmillerisapunk

A love that was never meant to be. A choice that was never truly yours to make. Acacius was never yours to keep, yet in the dark of night, beneath the weight of duty and desire, he was yours still. For stolen moments, for whispered names, for aching hands tracing the lines of something fleeting, something doomed

Run @almostempty

General acacius hunts you in the woods for ‘training’ then fucks you, duh

Ezra

Like family @max--phillips

You accidentally call Ezra "dad" and try to tell him you meant daddy

More (re read ✨) @moonlitbirdie

You want Ezra to take you while you’re asleep

Din Djarin

Mine @sawymredfox

A night adventure ends up being something much bigger

Lucien De Leon

Late check-out @secretelephanttattoo

Clint

Inescapable @cavillscurls

Clint always gets what he wants—this time, you’re going to give it to him

Sweet surrender @joelmillerisapunk

Your sleazy boss convinces you to fuck in the break room to a shitty porn tape he rented

Got your money @magpiepills

You’re a hooker who owes her pimp money and his right hand man, Clint comes to collect

Dave York

Keystrokes @mothandpidgeon

You hacked into Dave Yorks computer and found more secrets than you bargained for

Creampie and cum @gasolinerainbowpuddles

Feasting @sizzlingcloudmentality

Stolen lunch @aurorawritestoescape

Dave steals your lunch

Just a ride @baronessvonglitter

When a date goes bad you call your dad's best friend Dave to come to the rescue

Harry Castillo

30,000 feet @yxtkiwiyxt

You meet a handsome stranger on a flight

Threesome (and more)

The Senator's secret @baronessvonglitter (Oberyn x reader x Acacius)

The stakeout @toxicanonymity (Javi x reader x Steve)

The interruption @toxicanonymity (Javi x Steve x reader)

Idealists @for-a-longlongtime (Frankie x reader x Santiago)

Double vision @toxicanonymity m!ghostface x f!reader x f!ghostface

The party @tateypots

Offering to help your new stepdad host a party for his family doesn’t turn out the way you expect

Unnamed/other

The best part of waking up @baronessvonglitter

Sleepy morning sex with your favorite Pedro character

Flex @gothcsz

Hooking up with the guy you picked up at a party

Good girls @toxicanonymity (Steve Murphy x Claudia Messina x reader)

Daddy Dom!Steve is in charge, but you're the one touching her

My writing

Marrying Javi (Javi p x reader)

Playgirl (Javi p x reader)

Attracted to your father's best friend since his return from Colombia, you finally get what you want

Rotten luck (Javi p x reader)

Forced to work for Escobar's men as a driver until the day you escape, a DEA agent finds you in the countryside, at the home of friends you've been hiding. You yearn to start over and get a visa, but things aren't so easy, especially when feelings complicate the situation

Fics recs

[toxicanonymity]

the green

WC: 2.4k... I guess to find a scene, I had to find a world, then I didn't want to trim the fat because I liked it 😔

PAIRING: Ezra x f!reader; ft. others.

A/N: For @iamasaddie's writing challenge 4.0. I got Ezra: Aquarius, (i decided dark) Rave AU. Some of you write Ezra dialogue so well and true to character. That is not my forte and I didn't force it, but he speaks differently than others.

WARNINGS (not exhaustive, read at your own discretion): I8+ stefon voice: "this club has everything." drugs, surrealism, dark atmosphere*, sex cult vibes, public nudity, jacking off, manhandling, cumshot (dubcon), slapping, choking, spitting. Infidelity. You have a daddy. *I'd say "mild" horror but there's a mummified body in passing. A few cameos. It gets weird. unrefined chaos.

FIC ART: Amazing visual by @aurorawritestoescape

Drawing by @romana-after-dark

The Green was the one place your daddy explicitly forbade you from going. He never said why, but you assumed because the club entrance was down in the catacombs.

There were countless urban legends of doped up partiers getting lost, only to be found years later. One was discovered in a remote ossuary curled up with a faded can of New Coke. A picture had circulated – The poor soul’s shrunken legs were bent, knees drawn to their chest, yellow leggings stiffened and soiled under a pink leotard which by then fit like a paper bag.

—

When your friend said that’s where you were headed one night, you tried to convince her into going anywhere else. The problem was, she was obsessed with a DJ at the Green.

“I don’t get it,” she protested. “I know it’s not because you’re scared.”

“I just can't,” you pleaded futilely, and then she caught on when you wouldn’t meet her eyes.

Her jaw clenched, and her nostrils flared. “Let me guess,” she spat. “Because you’re letting a married man control your life.”

“Come on,” you pleaded.

“Billy may be a slut, but he's not married,” she bragged of the DJ.

. . .

An hour later, you and your friend were both high, dancing near the front of the crowd. In the humidity, you took off your bra, leaving a snug, mesh crop top and leather miniskirt. By then about 10% of the crowd was nude or close to it.

A song faded out, and a dense fog began to billow into the crowd. The fog smelled thickly of vegetation and masked some of the body odor you had been inhaling all night. The crowd quietly murmured, and with a few scattered whistles of enthusiasm.

As the fog settled, Billy the DJ put on a soothing binaural beat and introduced his mate, Ezra. As the crowd whistles and cheered, Billy hopped down from the booth and made a bee-line for your friend.

“There she is,” he murmured into her neck and wrapped his arms around her. “Is your friend joining us?”

“No,” she answered without looking at you. “Her daddy wouldn't like that.”

“Oh,” Billy looked you up and down, impressed. “Tell me ‘bout that later, love?” Billy winked at you as she dragged him away, leaving you alone.

–

Ezra stepped onto the stage and commenced with. . . spoken word poetry.

You didn't have the presence of mind for it, but the crowd was captivated. They knew him. As he droned on, some of them dropped to their knees, including a tattooed young man next to you in nothing but a sweatband. On the floor, he bent forward in child’s pose, arms stretched toward Ezra as though in worship. Through the remaining fog, the man’s glow-in-the-dark butt plug caught your eye.

Ezra had a mesmerizing voice. “Yes,” he echoed over the beat, and you found yourself tuning in. “Yes, feel my tongue penetrate you. Feel my words inside you!” You felt him opening something in your chest.

You scanned the crowd. The effect he had on these people was — The back of your neck prickled, and your exposed nipples hardened.

And then, you felt eyes on you. Not just anyone's. Your breath hitched. In the corner of your eye, Ezra was looking right at you. His voice became more tranquil: “I am already inside you.” A zing of pleasure shot through your chest, and a tingling heat spread through your loins. “Be not afraid,” he cooed. “Look at me while I penetrate you.” Your knees felt weak with need. You slowly looked up at him. He was sweating profusely through a worn, gray T-shirt and tactical pants. He dabbed his forehead with his wrist and ran his fingers through a shock of white hair. “yes,” he nodded, not taking his eyes off you. “Let me in deeper, little bird.”

“Let him in,” a few people murmured.

Ezra nodded, and his eyes sparkled as they briefly surveyed the crowd before coming back to you. He allowed a moment of silence, and over the beat, you could hear scattered moans. In your peripheral vision, the guy with the glow-in-the-dark butt plug was sucking cock while jerking himself off.

“Eyes on your god,” Ezra sharply demanded, and your face heated up as your gaze snapped back to him. Your eyes connected and locked together. It felt like you knew him. Like he knew you. You knew each other. You had to.

Ezra wet his lips, and everyone watched as he began to rub himself through his pants, looking right at you. Your eyelashes fluttered at the sight. His presence seized your whole body. Your breaths were shallow. The low beat thumped and hummed, with you in the tightening grip of his gaze.

From behind, you felt the wind of a stranger’s breath on your ear. “it’s okay,” she reassured you. “I’m gonna hold you for him,” the stranger slotted her hands under your arms.

“All over you,” Ezra continued, “the hands of my words, sliding over your skin.” He breathed heavily over the beat. You felt him. Pressure swelled in your depths, and you could hardly keep your eyes open. “Your god’s tongue, tasting the salt of your neck.” You really felt him. Your lips parted, and your clit twitched. “Yes,” Ezra nodded as he slowly rubbed himself, and the thick outline in his pants made you squeeze your thighs. Your body went nearly limp for Ezra's voice, and the stranger held you with your back against her chest. You could feel her nipples through the mesh of your top.

Ezra continued, “Your god’s cock, in the cunt of your soul.” And oh, you felt it deep. He unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, and the crowd cheered and pleaded, “yes, Ezra,” “please, God.” He held his cock in his hand, shapely and majestic.

Desire flooded your body, buzzing and throbbing with the beat of his obscenity. Your mind was full of him and so was your body, it felt. You had room for nothing else. Someone stepped toward the stage, and Ezra let them spit on his dick.

The stranger holding you pushed you forward, bringing you closer to Ezra. Ezra pointed at you with his free hand. As you arrived at the stage, a familiar darkness fell over his eyes, and your heart skipped a beat at the weight of recognition.

You snapped out of the spell. There was something off about this, something wrong about him.

He had someone else's face.

Someone you loved.

Your stomach turned as you stood there beneath Ezra, and he pumped his cock, with the crowd cheering him on. His eyes froze you in place. You willed yourself to move, as though stuck in a nightmare. It was just a bad trip, you told yourself. This wasn't real. It was the drugs.

“It's okay,” the stranger reassured you, and somehow, it helped you breathe easier.

Ezra breathed heavier, and his hungry eyes settled on your chest, making your nipples harden nearly to the point of pain. Goosebumps erupted from your chest and spread over your body.

“The seed of your god,” he panted, chest heaving.

“The seed of our god,” a few voices echoed.

Ezra bit his bottom lip and stroked himself faster.

“Especially for you,” Ezra spoke the words right into your soul, and your body throbbed out of control.

If it was a nightmare, if it was the drugs, you had nothing to lose by surrendering yourself to pleasure.

“Open your mouth,” the stranger urged you. And you did. You opened your mouth and closed your eyes. Ezra's sounds of pleasure became more pronounced. You couldn't be sure how long you stood there with your mouth open. The sound of Ezra growing ever closer to climax had you drawing in a deep breath through your nose and shuddering.

Soon, you smelled his musk and felt the humidity of his loins near your face. He groaned, and a thick rope hit the back of your throat. The warmth and tang of it was too much to bear. You squeezed your eyes tighter shut and saw stars. As your body spasmed, the stranger tried to hold you steady, but the cum that followed went all over your face and chest.

“Good,” Ezra praised when he finished emptying himself onto you. “Good,” he repeated.

The crowd cheered.

You opened your eyes and your body cooled with a wave of guilt. This is what Daddy wanted to protect you from. The spell of another man who bore a striking resemblance to him. You weren't yourself, it was the drugs, you repeated in your mind.

“You okay?” The stranger asked and you nodded.

“Now let them feast,” Ezra concluded and stepped down off the stage, his dick tucked away but his pants unbuttoned. People reached out to touch him as he came through the crowd but kept enough distance that he proceeded coolly, slowly toward the cave entrance.

Soon, you had hands all over you, too. Hands and tongues. People swiping at your skin, licking your face, desperate for a taste of him. You shut your eyes as they drew aftershocks of pleasure from your depths. After a minute, the stranger shooed them away. “Congratulations,” she said, and let you stand on your own.

Meanwhile, Billy and your friend had returned for him to resume his DJ duties. Your friend was dumbstruck by the scene. Billy looked more impressed. “Your first night? Alright, wow,” Billy marveled. “You must be special, love.”

It wasn't lost on you how this annoyed your friend. You pushed past both of them without a word and spotted Ezra's silhouette against the cave wall.

—

Ezra was uncharacteristically silent as you approached, simply taking in the vision of you, disheveled from the touch of strangers, unraveled from his words. He looked pleased with himself.

As you opened your mouth to speak, you hesitated, unsure you wanted to know the answer to your question, or how real this was. You asked him anyway, “What's your last name?” and your heart raced in anticipation.

“I don't have a last name,” he claimed.

“Bullshit. Is it York?”

Ezra drew in a deep breath through his nose and observed your face. “Mmm.” He glanced at the ceiling with a chuckle. “Well heavens, little bird.” His eyes turned regretful. “I surmise you belong to a particular agent of the federal variety.” He raised his eyebrows. “And if my calculation is correct, I sincerely–”

“--Apologize,” A handsome black man with short, greying hair interrupted. In an exaggerated motion, the man pulled up his sleeve to look at his watch. “A little late,” he stated with a glare, punctuated by a pout and raise of his eyebrows. Then, his hand engulfed Ezra’s neck with startling speed and precision. Ezra choked, and the man calmly held firm, beginning to explain, “In approximately 30 seconds, the blood flow to your–”

A different man snatched you by the arm from behind. The grip of his large hand was a familiar, painful comfort. You could feel the bruises forming on your bicep as he physically dragged you away.

“Daddy,” you whimpered. “I'm sorry, I–”

Mr. York didn't speak a word to you until he had you well into the catacombs, away from the club. You could only faintly hear the music start up again. He put you against a cold, rough wall, rolled up the sleeves of his powder blue button-down, and put his hands on his knees as he looked you in the face. His gaze was soft but ominous. It unsettled you.

“I'm sorry, daddy,” tears welled up in your eyes.

Still nothing from him.

His nostrils flared with a deep breath. You'd prefer if he yelled at you, smacked you around. As though reading your tears, he slapped you across the face. Your hand flew up to your cheek instinctively but he swatted it away and simply looked at you as the sting faded. He didn't have to ask the question: What the hell were you doing there?

“I didn't want to come,” you cried. “I didn't wanna–”

“You shouldn't be here,” he stated firmly, and you nodded.

“I know, you said not to come, didn't know it was cause, I didn't know about–”

“Who knows best?” He asked.

“Daddy,” you answered earnestly, “Daddy always does.”

He gave a short nod, then grabbed your jaw and studied each of your eyes. “High off your ass,” he grumbled. Then he sniffed the air. Still firmly holding your jaw, he brought his nose to your cheek, then dragged it down to your neck. There was nothing like your daddy’s touch, even when he was mad. Sometimes especially if he was mad.

He growled and stood upright, bringing his other hand to your neck so he had one hand on your jaw and the other firmly but gently on your throat. He demanded, “What did he do to you?”

“Nothing, he–”

He slightly pressed his finger and thumb into the sides of your neck as a warning, then released them.

“He masturbated and–”

“Did he touch you?”

“No.”

Your daddy brought his face almost to yours, just far enough away to still look in your eyes. When he seemed satisfied that he had the truth, he squeezed your jaw and said, “open.”

You breathed a sigh of relief and opened your mouth. He spat on your tongue and you swallowed it gratefully. His hands released you and he cupped your cheek for a moment before looking back behind himself, getting ready to leave.

“I'm sorry,” you repeated.

“McCall will take care of him,” he muttered.

He pulled you off the wall and led you out of the caves with a firm grip on the back of your neck.

–

In the back of the SUV, Mr. York was sitting on the driver's side, and you were face down sprawled across the whole bench seat. You put your head on his lap, facing his crotch. He laid a hand on your forehead for a minute, but you kept crying and rubbing your face on his pants, and he was tired. He stared out the window, despite that your microskirt had ridden up to where your ass was half covered. “Daddy,” you whined.

“Stop,” he commanded with a spank. Then he squeezed his hand between your legs and your thighs opened for him. He pushed your panties to the side and slid his middle finger into your cunt. “Be quiet.” He wedged his other hand under your cheek and fed you his thumb. He closed his eyes and held you still.

For the rest of the ride, you laid still and drifted off with his finger inside you and his thumb between your lips.

--------

-------

Thank you for reading 💚

[missredherring]

Plant Your Hope With Good Seeds Masterlist

Ezra x Fat!F!Reader

A Harvest Moon 64 x Prospect Crossover

The job posting was easy to overlook. Help Wanted: seeking farm hand, manual labor and caring for livestock. Eight hour shifts, six days a week with one free day and a weekly stipend based on work completed. Room and board included. Employment guaranteed for five planet-standard seasons. Flowerbud Farm in Flowerbud Village on the planet HM-64 in the Bokujo Monotgatari system. It's a tiny farm on a small island on a remote planet in the middle of nowhere. Surely plant life would be easier to handle than caustic chemicals and the delicate organic matter that made aurelac. It would be something different. Something new. The marriage clause in the job contract was definitely new.

Contents: marriage of convenience. slice of life.

Chapters:

Winter - Year One

Spring - Year Two

Summer - Year Two

Fall - Year Two

Winter - Year Two

Spring - Year Three

[frannyzooey]

Omg #16 with Joel or Frankie would be sooooo melty

Ezra x f!reader

"accidental I love you during sex"

I was going to go with Frankie for this one, but I thought it would be fun and different with Ezra - you don't often see him caught off guard! thanks for the prompt ❤️

--

Everything was so wet.

Spit soaked and lube smeared and slick with arousal, you'd accepted everything he'd gifted it tonight - both your cunt and your ass. He seemed enraptured with how much you could take: out of his mind with black, molten desire when you begged, his greedy eyes devouring every squeeze your holes pressed around his fingers, his cock.

Your head thrown back into the pillow on your cot and your fingers wrapped around the edges of the hard mat, you were a fucking vision. Your trembling thighs open wide for him to play, and play, and play, he lowered himself between your legs to rest his sweat slick skin against your own. Chest to chest, hip to hip, legs entwined while his mouth sought yours.

The thick tip of his cock slipped in without effort, and when he filled you to the brim, he swallowed your moan laced with a whine. His strokes were powerful, yet languid. Smooth, and filling.

The air was pressed out of your lungs by the weight of his body, pulled out by the way he devoured your mouth, pushed out with every one of his thrusts.

He gave and he gave and he gave, and you took it all.

You came around his cock with a cry and grinning, he slid from one hole to another, hooking your knees around the inside of his elbows. You took what he gave there like a champ, and the unrelenting tight squeeze of your ass had him rambling, panting above you.

"Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit," he breathed, his stomach tensing with every punching thrust forward. "Fuck, I'm gonna come. Fuck."

When he did, it wasn't with another curse.

It was with a press of his body against yours, with his face tucked into the crook of your neck as his hips rocked and rocked and rocked, getting every last drop out.

"I love you," he panted, his hips shoving their way between your thighs and staying there, keeping himself buried deep. "Fuck, I love you."

The words slipped out in his cunt drunk haze, and when you cupped his face in your hands to look him in the eye, you didn't find regret -- you found the soft warmth of a sated man.

"You mean it?" you whispered, still joined with him, buried underneath his bulk.

He smiled. "Indeed I do."

[writeforfandoms]

Take A Chance On Me

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

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

Word count: 5.3k

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

So of course you noticed when the bookshop opened. 

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

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

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

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

But it did make for a rather lonely life. 

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

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

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

Except that two things happened. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You never saw him again. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Plenty of jobs in the galaxy ended up being dangerous. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That… was unexpected. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You had absolutely no idea what to do. 

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

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

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

Books. Of course. 

Sometimes you were a fucking idiot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Naturally, you ran straight into Ezra, almost literally. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you finding anything useful?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.” You sighed. “Not yet.” 

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

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

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

You both paused, and you swallowed. 

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

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

“On?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you had no idea what it was. 

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

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

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

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

“It’s a dragon.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Friend. You liked the sound of that. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was worth taking the time.

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[absurdthirst]

The Cost of Survival {Ezra x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 13.8k

Warnings: Oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, mentions of birth control, oppressive regimes, drinking, adultery, technically prostitution, angsts, heartbreak, loss of limbs, near death, pregnancy

Comments: Growing up on a poor mining planet where the company owns your very existence, Ezra dreams of getting you and him away from it all. Escaping. Resorting to doing the unthinkable to manage it and breaking your heart, there's a high price to be paid.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Ezra (Prospect) MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

You lean against the wall, the band playing across the room with instruments passed down through the generations. Your dress is also hand-me-down, shabby, and patched, but it suits you, especially when no one else is dressed much nicer. Your planet is best known for its mines. It provides power to other planets - more prosperous planets - and is well known for the people who occupy the dusty, gritty mountains. Only one mining company owns all the land...and the people. The workers whose fathers and their fathers and their fathers worked the mines. No one escapes the planet. No one makes it rich enough to leave. Especially when the company owns the houses and the stores. Every credit made by the workers goes back into the company's pocket. Your father works the mines, back aching daily as he fights his aging bones to provide for his family. You want more than this gritty existence; you want to escape, to do the impossible. There's some education for women, mainly nursing, to assist the doctors with the gruesome wounds men would receive from the deadly mines. You lean against the wall, watching several couples dancing, and you sigh, not seeing him watching you from across the room. Ezra. You've known him since you were in school together. Most men left school early to enter the mines, but he stayed a little longer, wanting to learn more about literature, and you admired his reluctance to tow the company line. He was rebellious, and you secretly loved that.

You are a sight for grimy, dust-filled eyes. Ezra’s own outfit is barely much better than your own. An old suit that his father had been married in. The only reason he hadn’t been buried in it was that his tomb was a sealed-off section of the mine after an unfortunate blowout. You look bored and he smirks slightly, thinking that you are like an unappreciated flower, overlooked and forgotten. Not by him. He would never forget a beauty so fair that it steals his breath away. The only reason he had come tonight was to get a glimpse of you and perhaps try to convince you to take a turn on the floor with him.

You sip your drink, some kind of off-brand juice that one of the more prosperous planets had turned down, and you set the empty cup down just as a pair of scruffy boots appear in your eyeline while you stare at the floor. Your eyes flick up to find Ezra standing in front of you. Your eyes widen, and you glance beside you to see if he’s here to speak to someone prettier, but his dark eyes meet yours as you brave looking at his face. “Good evenin’.” He greets you, and you fluster, “hi. I- I didn’t think you’d be here tonight. Didn’t think this was your scene.” You say, shifting from one foot to the other as your nerves make the juice slosh in your stomach.

“Didn’t think I would make an appearance, but the thought of dancing convinced me.” He flashes you a slight grin and loves the way you fluster slightly. You’re nervous, and it matches the same butterflies in his own stomach, hopefully. “Shall we, little bird?” He asks, holding out his hand to you.

You are surprised, your eyes dropping to his hand, and you don’t hesitate to take it. You are shocked that he wants to dance with you, but you accept his invitation, and he escorts you onto the dance floor. Your hand grips his, your other hand finds his shoulder, finding the beat, and his smile is infectious as he swings you around the dance floor. A giggle fills your throat as he leads you around the floor, almost bumping into other couples. Your smile almost makes your face hurt as he sways you around, and you cling to him, laughing in joy as your troubles are momentarily lifted from your shoulders.

The sound of your giggle enthralls him, making him grin even though he’s decidedly not the best dancer. He is better with his hands than his feet. “Your smile is infectious.” He coos, puffing up like a peacock because he is escorting the prettiest girl around the floor. “Soon, the entire room will catch.”

You shake your head with a wry smile, leaning against him slightly as the song ends, and you reluctantly let go of his hands to applaud the band. "Thank you for the dance, Ezra." You say softly, and the band begins to play again, something slower. You prepare to walk off to lean against the wall again, but Ezra captures your hand, dragging you back towards him and into his chest. His eyes meet yours once more as he wraps his arm around your waist, starting to sway you to the slower song. Your heart pounds in your chest, you swear he can feel it, and you know this dance changes everything.

Ezra has learned that he can spout a pretty phrase. Some might call him talkative or a yapper, but he’s now silent. He is taking in your beauty and memorizing this moment. His crush on you is blooming into full romance and he wishes that he were rich so he could dress you in fine clothes and bring you flowers every day. “You strike me mute, little bird.” He whispers after a moment. “I am the most fortunate soul here tonight, holding someone of such profound grace.”

You fluster at his compliments, “you’re mute? A rare event.” You tease, your fingers flexing around his, and you clear your throat. “You flatter me, Ez. I am - I am the lucky one. Every girl in here tonight wants your attention. Including Dotty.” You look over to the company owner’s daughter. She’s part of one of two wealthy families in town.

“She doesn’t hold a candle to you.” Ezra insists. Despite her family affluence, he's never been one to want the slightly older girl. He was aware that he would always be considered less than, despite his lengthy verbiage. “You are the lovely siren who has captured my attention and leads me towards the treacherous rocky shoals of love.”

Your eyes widen at his confession, and you offer him a shy smile. “I must admit…my feelings are - I have been quite enamored with you since we were in school together.” You reveal, biting your lip. Ezra is older than you by a couple of years, and you would’ve thought that Dotty would be more his type. His ambition to succeed is well-known in the town. Wanting more from life than to work the mines like his daddy did. “I didn’t think - I thought you considered me as nothing more than a friend.”

“Little bird, I have been remiss in expressing the extent of my affections because I have been afraid of the cold dread of rejection.” He admits softly, his eyes staring into yours. “Tonight, though? The double moons are shining, and there is a hope in my heart that you would take pity on a lowly mortal such as myself and shower me with a sliver of your affection.”

You inhale sharply at his sweet words, your heart pounding in your chest, and you nod, “I- I would love to love you, Ezra.” You promise him, “you want to find somewhere quiet?” You ask, and he nods, taking your hand to escort you off the dance floor and outside the hall. The air is dusty, and you cough slightly. Most citizens of your home didn’t survive for as long as people on other planets as they inhaled the fumes and dust from the mines. You turn towards Ezra after he guides you to a secluded spot behind the hall, and you feel giddy. Leaning in, you cup his cheek and caress his stubbled skin. “I love you, Ez.” You murmur, wanting him to know how you feel. You’ve loved him since the moment you met him in school. His vivacious vocabulary and the ambition he tries to conceal to not get into too much trouble with the powers that be. You love all of him.

“I love you too, little bird.” Ezra promises you, lunging forward to press his lips to yours as gently as he can manage even though his heart is beating out of his chest. Overjoyed that you share his affections, he pulls you closer to him, groaning against your lips. Kissing them over and over again before he pulls away. “I can assure you that the extent of my feelings is no passing fancy; I would have nothing more than a future laid out with you. Making our fortunes off this wretched rock and living a life of love and laughter together.”

**** 

You look out the window, washing the dishes from making dinner that is cooking on the stove, when you see him. He’s covered in soot and grime, his smile wide as he sees you through the tatty curtains in the small window. You return his smile, looking forward to seeing him after he’s been at work. “Hi, baby.” You coo as he walks into your shared home. Since he started working for the company, he was given his place. It’s small, but it’s big enough for both of you.

“Hey, little bird.” He is exhausted and upset, but you lift his spirits. “You are a sight for sore and gritty eyes.” He’s too dirty to touch you, so he settles for a small kiss as you take his lunch pail from him. Rather than eat at the company store and accumulate more credits he can’t pay, you fix him lunch to take every day. “Let me clean up, and I’ll kiss you like you deserve.”

“Let me run you a bath, my love. You must be aching after a long day.” You declare, knowing how your father would groan as he sat down in his chair after working all day. He nods, and you walk into the bathroom to turn on the faucet in the tub. The water is brown at first then clears before you put the plug in. You grab the bar of soap and the rags you washed earlier by hand, setting up the tub for him to wash off the day's grime. He kicks off his boots by the door, shrugging out of his overalls, and he walks into the bathroom; his hands and face are still dirty but his clothing covered the rest of him. “Nearly ready.” You offer him a soft smile, “I have dinner cooking too. Won’t be too long.”

“You are too good to me.” Ezra groans as he steps into the bath. The hot water heater is too costly to run, so the water is never boiling unless you boil it on the stove. This would cost you fuel, so Ezra settles for a cool bath. “Fuckin’ mine raised their quotas again.” He huffs as he sits down, hissing slightly at the water.

You shake your head, reaching for the rag to wet it in the water so you can clean his back. He can never reach it properly. “Again? Kevva, it’s - it’s too much. You can’t keep up with that.” You murmur with a frown, “we could always move in with my parents. I mean, the company gave us this home without us being married; we could pretend to split up and move in with my parents without the bosses knowing.” You suggest, wanting to make things easier even if it means living back home. Not having the privacy to be together like you want. It’s a sacrifice you’re willing to make if it means he suffers less.

“No.” Ezra shakes his head immediately, dirt falling off of him and into the water. “I can provide for my girl. Ain’t no way that I will live off your father breaking his back and hold my head up.” He tells you stubbornly. “I just need to up my production. Maybe explore a few of the new veins.”

You sigh, continuing to wash him and you are worried he’s working himself into an early grave. “Ezra…I don’t - I am working on my nursing degree. I’m nearly done. Then we have another income. I’ll work at the company hospital.” You say, wanting to assure him that you will be helping so he doesn’t work himself to the bone.

“Little bird, I am hoping that at some point, we are off this confounded rock.” Ezra admits, looking down as the water starts to turn black. “I wish to show you the stars up close. To make sure you never have to work yourself to the grave in order to keep our babies bellies full when Kevva graces us with children.”

You smile softly at his promise and the thought of children. His children. You sigh and rub his back, “you gotta make an honest woman of me first.” You teasingly remind him, “or are you going to keep me in our home in sin?” You joke and wash his back.

“I’ll keep you however I can keep you.” Ezra promises. “The marriage license is almost a full day's wages.” He reveals quietly. “I’ve nearly got that saved up. Maybe another week?” He tells you. “It includes a ring, but I want to get you something better than the piece of tin they provide.”

You reach up to caress his dirty cheek, “baby. I would wait a lifetime to marry you.” You promise, “I’m only teasing. I - I just can’t wait to be yours. Completely yours.” You murmur and lean over the edge of the tub to kiss his now clean cheek.

Ezra smirks, wrapping his arm around you and dragging you into the water with him, laughing when you screech. “I love you, little bird.” He promises. “Even when you are soaking wet.”

You can’t be mad at him when he drags you into the tub with him. “You love me when I’m soaking wet.” You smirk, running your fingers through his wet hair as he cradles your body in the tub.

“I do.” He growls playfully. “Because you get so wet for me.” Leaning in, Ezra bites your neck, his semi-hard cock getting harder underneath you as he runs his hands down to grab your ass.

You moan and turn your head to press your lips to his, groaning as his fingers dig into your flesh. “Ezra, my love.” You whimper, grinding down onto him and you grow wetter for him, wanting him to fuck you now that he’s home.

“You want some attention, little bird?” As tired as he is, he will never deny you. Wanting you as much as he needs to breathe. “Why don’t I show you what I was thinking about doing to you while I was working?” He grunts, pushing you up onto the edge of the tub and fighting with the wet material of your dress to reach your soaked and threadbare panties underneath.

You gasp when he rips the panties clean off of your body. You know you’d be annoyed at wasting one of the scarce pairs of panties you own if you weren’t so turned on. He tosses the wet material onto the floor and pushes your legs open, making you moan his name as his hands trail along your wet thighs. “Ez, please.” You beg him sweetly, needing to feel more of him. You never seem to get enough of him. When his tongue slides through your folds after he leans in towards your cunt, a low groan escapes your lips and his dark eyes meet yours when he starts his mission to make you cum on his tongue.

Every time he tastes you, Ezra becomes a little more obsessed. The musky, tangy taste of your cunt, mixed with the uniqueness of your skin tastes like the sweet cakes that were a treat on rare occasions. He grips your thighs, holding them open so he can lick deeper. Groaning into your folds as he devours you.

Your fingers find balance on the edge of the tub and you moan as his tongue slides through your folds and flicks over your clit. “Oh Ez.” You whimper, loving the way he groans into your flesh, vibrating against your clit. He gets better and better with each time he touches you. He was your first, not too long after the dance together at the hall when you proclaimed your love.

Ezra groans as he tries to write a sonnet into your cunt, his tongue the pen and your folds the paper. Loving how you just shake and moan for him. He slides his hands along your thigh, now clean from the grime and soot of the day to press two thick fingers inside you.

You moan, pushing his head deeper into your pussy as he laps at your clit, his fingers curling deep enough to make you whine his name and you rock your hips up into his face. “Shit, baby. I- it’s always so good.”

He grunts in response, wishing he could talk while he eats your cunt but he can only show you what he feels. Groaning as he curls his fingers up and pumps them in and out of you.

You pant, eyes closing as he pushes you over the edge. You clamp down on his fingers and cry out his name, your fingers tugging on his hair until your grip softens as you ride your orgasm. Pulling turning to running your fingers through his wet strands. “I love you, baby.” You murmur, blissed out.

“Love you too.” He promises, looking at you in adoration as he pulls his fingers out of you and smirks, feeling how wet they are with your juices. “Are you up to more, little bird?” As voracious as he is for you, he always checks to make sure you want sex after you cum.

You nod, shifting into the tub to straddle him, and you reach for your now soaked dress, dragging it off of your body and tossing it onto the floor where it plops. “I am always aching for more of you, baby.” You promise, reaching down to wrap your fingers around his cock.

Ezra groans, cock throbbing in your hand and he rocks his hips up. “Fuck, baby, I love the way you love my cock.” He pants softly. “Your touch burns me to my very soul.”

His words are always so poetic. Your heart thumps in your chest, and you shift up onto your knees so you can position yourself above his cock. The water is dirty but you don’t care as you start to sink down on him. He stretches you out but you take him so well after so many nights spent in each other’s arms. “I love you.” You murmur, caressing his cheeks as you take all of him inside of you.

“You are my sun and stars.” Ezra chokes out, closing his eyes as your cunt wraps around his cock. “The goddess that I worship, the only deity I will ever pray to, Kevva forgive me.” He hisses when you clench around him. “The light from which I draw my very existence from.”

You caress his cheeks down to his chest, feeling his heart thumping under your palm. Your pussy flutters around his cock as his hands slide along your spine. “My love.” You murmur, “you’re my world. This fucking planet won’t rule us. We will - we will conquer it.” You lean in to press your lips to his.

Ezra groans against your lips, feeling like he is the king of the world right now with you perched on his cock and vowing your love. He squeezes your ass and rocks you up, encouraging you to move. Desperate to feel you fall apart for him.

You whimper at the way he feels inside of you. Your first and last lover. You rock on top of him, gripping the sides of the tub for leverage as you want to see him fall apart beneath you. “Fuck. You feel so good inside of me, Ez.” You pant, clenching around him.

“That’s ’cause I’m yours.” Ezra pants out. “Completely yours. Always yours.” He is yours, his heart is so completely given to you, that he will do anything to make you happy and comfortable.

You love hearing him proclaim that he’s yours. You moan his name as he twitches inside of you, your fingers gripping the edge of the tub as you move faster, working yourself up to an orgasm.

You are so close. He has fucked you enough that he can tell by the way you moan. He leans down and pulls your nipple into his mouth and sucks harshly.

You moan his name again, one hand tangling in his hair as you rock a little faster. “Oh fuck baby.” You whine, so so close. He bites down on your nipple and it sends you over the edge. You cry out, eyes squeezed shut as you clamp down on his cock, soaking him while you shake above him.

Ezra moans your name, twitching inside you. So close to cumming himself from the sheer force of your walls contracting around him. “Fuck, fuck baby.” He grunts, gritting his teeth and holding you tighter and he starts to rock up into you frantically, spilling the dirty water onto the floor in his haste. “Fuck!” His strangled cry is cut off when he buries his cock deep to pump you full of his hot seed, thankful for the implant in your arms to keep you from having a child just yet.

You love the way he fills you up, making you relax above him, and you caress his neck as he twitches inside of you. A low groan escaping his lips as he kisses along your neck and you sigh in bliss. “Kevva, I love you.” You murmur, knowing you’ll be lost without him.

“I adore you. Worship you, bow down at the preverbal altar of your grace. Obsessed with you.” Ezra murmurs between kisses. “You are my purpose, little bird.” He promises. “Without you, I would be a floater, adrift and alone.”

You sigh, a smile on your face as you look at him in bliss. “I can’t wait to marry you, Ez.” You murmur and he pulls back to look at you, “any day now.” He promises, making your smile widen. You caress his cheeks and reach for the soap. “Now I gotta clean you up again.” You tease, lathering up your hands. Ezra chuckles and your heart clenches, filled with love.

****

You squeeze his hands as he looks at you with adoration, his mother’s ring on your finger as he says his vows. You had told him you didn’t care if you even had a ring, you simply wanted to be his wife, but he’d worked hard and his mother decided to give him her ring that she treasured after her husband was killed in the mines. His mother and your parents watch as you exchange vows and when you’re pronounced as husband and wife, you surge forward to press your lips to Ezra’s. He spins you and dips you while you kiss, making you gasp in shock then giggle against his lips. When he steadies you when you’re upright, you cup his cheek, “I can’t believe I’m your wife. Finally.”

“I have been blessed by Kevva.” Ezra hums, smiling like he has won the lottery. “I promise that we will be rich, little bird. We will not live and die on this miserable little rock for too much longer.”

You shake your head, “it - if it never happens, I won’t be upset because I have you, my love. As long as I have you.” You promise, and he nods, but you don’t see the look in his eyes. The determination. Your parents come over to congratulate you until the officiant gets you over to sign your marriage certificate, the company logo on the stamp. They even own your marriage. You don’t hesitate to sign, wanting to belong to Ezra, not giving a shit about the company. You will both work hard to achieve the impossible, no matter what it takes.

****

“Mongrel, fucking Jack-knifed thieving, sons of cunts!” Ezra slams the door opened, scowling fiercely as he throws the pail that you pack his lunches on across the room. Startling you so much that you jump from where you are studying for an exam, but he doesn’t pay that any mind as he starts to pace. “Ezra! What’s-“ 

Ezra growls, shoving a dirty hand through his hair. “They’ve cut the value of the fucking mineral.” He hisses. “Down to about a quarter of what it was. Now you need to mine three times as much to keep the same fucking credits coming in.” He stops in the middle of the floor, utterly defeated. “They ain’t lowering their credits for shit, though, greedy bastards.”

Your eyes widen, “they haven’t! They - oh Kevva.” You feel a little sick. How are you going to pay for the house? How will you eat? The company owns everything, even your marriage. You shake your head, “baby. I- oh Kevva.” You stand up and walk over to him, cupping his cheeks.

Ezra feels defeated. “We’ve got to get off this rock.” He tells you, his tone flat. “They’re gonna kill us, work us to our graves if we don’t.” His mother has already passed, just two weeks ago, slowly withering away from the dust in her lungs after a lifetime here. “They are bleeding us of our very marrow, little bird.”

“What can we do, Ez?” You ask him hopelessly, shaking your head. You feel defeated, like you’re never going to get away from the company that owns you. “I- I am nearly done with my degree. Once I have that I can apply for a job off planet and then we can leave here.”

“We won’t make it until then.” Ezra has crunched the number and crunched the numbers after hearing the announcement. “I’m going to see if there’s something that can be done.” He decides, looking you in the eyes. “Whatever it takes.”

You look at him, shaking your head again in despair and you know he will do what it takes to make sure you survive. “I know, baby.” You murmur, staring out of the window at the smog.

“I’m gonna shower and change.” Ezra tells you. “Don’t worry about dinner, little bird.” He reaches up and chucks your chin lovingly. “I’ll be home too late to eat.”

You smile, leaning in to kiss him softly. “Have a good time with Jasper.” You tell him, knowing he needs a night out with his friend to relax. “I’ll be waiting for you.” You wink and he smirks.

****

You glance over at the clock, a frown on your face at how late it is. You’re worried about Ezra. Worried that something has happened to him. You bite your lip, shifting in your bed as you wait for your husband to get home. You usually wouldn’t stay up so late to wait for him but it’s way past the time he said he’d be home.

Ezra frowns into his glass of liquor, it's more credits that he doesn't have, but luckily it's cheaper than most. "I just don't understand what these blood-sucking mongers expect from us." He grumbles, not for the first time. "Gotta get off this heap." He tells his best friend. "Need credits to get away. Me and little bird."

Jasper sighs, shaking his head as he sips the whiskey that cost a whole day of work. “I don’t know how you’re gonna do it, man. They have us by the short and curlies. Everything we make, we put back into their pocket and we don’t get nothing for the back breaking work. This fuckin’ planet is killin’ us and - and I want you to get off of this shit rock, brother. You and your lady deserve it.” Jasper finishes just as Dotty comes over to the bar, her cleavage pronounced as she leans against the sticky counter. “Fancy seeing you here, Ezra.” She coos, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

"Hey, Dotty." Ezra mumbles, finding it hard not to be annoyed at the appearance of one of the richest people on the fucking planet. Her family held more credits than the entire workforce of miners here combined. It was un-fucking-fair. "What are you doing slumming it here with all the 'ner do wells?" He snorts before he takes a sip of his drink.

She giggles, “decided to come here and see if I could find someone to entertain me for the night.” She says, her eyes flirtatious as she trails them along Ezra’s form. “I haven’t had any offers…yet.” She smirks, “but I would turn them all away if I knew I could have you.”

Dotty has been less than inconspicuous in her attempts at cajoling Ezra into her bed. He shakes his head and sends her a rueful grin. “Married, Dot. Remember?” He tells you, wishing he could afford a ring for himself to hold up to signify his married status. Hell, he couldn't even afford you a ring. The only reason you had one was because of someone giving up their own token. “You could have any guy here. Why would you lower yourself to settle on me?”

Dotty scoffs, “married…to that nobody. I could make you somebody here, handsome. You’d be the king of the planet. I want you, Ezra. And I’m willing to pay to have you in my bed. Ten thousand credits. All you have to do is give me one night.” She says, fluttering her eyelashes to make herself look more enticing while she’s trying to bribe Ezra into fucking her.

Ten thousand credits. Ezra’s eyes widen at the amount Dotty is willing to pay. It would be enough to move off planet with you. To get away. Still, he shakes his head, “I’m afraid I will have to decline such a generous offer.” He tells her. Looking down at his drink he sighs.

Dotty pouts at the man who just turned down her offer but his friend nods in admiration. “Whatever. It’s your loss.” She says and struts off to sit back down at her table with her equally rich cousin. Jasper shakes his head, “I admire you for turning down the offer, Ez. Not many men would turn down a free night with Dotty, let alone one they are being paid for. Good for you. I gotta get back, my lady has been having trouble getting to sleep without me there. I’ll see you on Monday, my friend.” Jasper slaps Ezra on the shoulder and pays his tab, leaving the bar. “Check, please.” Ezra asks the bartender who nods, setting down the check that is more than Ezra expected it to be.

“How the hell is it this much?” Ezra frowns at the paper, wondering how the hell he is going to pay this. “It’s three times more than it should be!” The bartender shrugs. “Prices went up.” He tells Ezra, who growls and balls up the tab. He doesn’t have this kind of money. The credits in his pocket needed to pay for the food bill at the store. “Kevva forsaken mother fuckers.” He hisses, rubbing a hand through his hair.

Dotty sways her hips as she comes back over to the bar, seeing Ezra’s frustrations. “Put it on my tab.” She says, knowing Ezra can’t afford the new prices her father approved for the liquor. She doesn’t necessarily agree with her father’s plans to bleed his workers dry but she benefits from it, able to buy whatever she wants. She goes off planet to shop and for education. Ezra shakes his head, about to protest but she leans in, her cleavage pushed even higher. “Come on, handsome. I know my daddy’s quotas are killing you. I know you want to leave this place. Take my offer. Kevva, I’ll double it. Twenty thousand credits for one night. I just want to experience you, your cock. I won’t mention a word of it. One night and you and your little rag doll are free from this place.” She offers with a smirk on her lips.

He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t, but the offer is almost enough. “Thirty thousand.” He levels her a dirty look. “If I’m going to tarnish my vows to my wife, it needs to be worth it. Let me take her off world and give her whatever she desires.”

Dotty nods, a sly smirk on her face as she holds her hand out towards Ezra. “We have a deal, baby.” She coos and squeezes his hand when he reluctantly holds it out. She can see the hesitation in his eyes but she knows she can win him over with money and with sex. She just needs a night to prove to him that she’s better than you. Her daddy can cancel your marriage as easily as a signature. Then she can marry Ezra and have her happy ending. You’ll be nothing when she’s done with him. “Let’s go, handsome. Tab is paid.” The bartender nods and she grabs her purse, “you ready to come home with me?”

Ezra wants to say no, but he tells himself that he is doing this for you. For your future. He knows that there is no way he would ever get that kind of money together. “One night.” He reminds her. “And you give me the credits before.” He feels slightly dirty, basically selling himself.

Dotty nods and takes his hand as she guides him out of the bar with a smirk on her face. She’s going to get what she wants. Finally.

****

You look over at the clock, worried about Ezra. You haven’t slept and he hasn’t come home. You tried calling Jasper but there was no answer. You tried calling the bar. No one is answering and you’re terrified something bad has happened to your husband. You swallow down your tears as you try to hold yourself together, wondering if he ended up sleeping at Jasper’s but why wouldn’t he call you to check in? You give up on sleep and get out of bed, heading into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. You pick up the tin of grounds and choke when you discover it’s empty. You toss it down on the counter, a sob escaping your lips just as the front door opens and Ezra walks in. Your eyes widen and you rush over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Oh baby. I was so worried. I thought something had happened to you.”

Ezra is exhausted and feeling guilty, wrapping his arms around you and squeezing you tight. “I’m fine, little bird.” He promises, pulling away and smiling at you in delight. “Go and pack your things, we are leaving this festering pile of refuse and never looking back.” He pulls out the wad of credits that Dotty had given him, all thirty thousand of them and shows you. “Our luck has changed.”

Your eyes widen at the credits in his hand. “Where - how did you get this?” You ask, confused and concerned that he sold something or did something reckless to more credits than you could earn in ten years. “What - where have you been?” You question, confusion etched into your features as you stare at your husband, not moving from your spot.

“Little bird, I assure you that nothing was done without the most noble of intentions.” He placates. “I was offered the sum in exchange for my time.” He’s not telling you the entire truth, but it’s better that you not know. It would upset you and you wouldn’t understand that it was merely physical for Ezra. He had not even cared about his own satisfaction and had to think of you to even cum.

Your frown deepens, “your time? You- you’ve been out all night. No one has a job in the middle of the night? Unless it’s…unless you whored yourself out.” You joke, chuckling but he doesn’t laugh with you, his eyes a little pained. “Wait…you didn’t - Ezra?” You question, feeling your chest tighten.

Ezra shuffles slightly, feeling that sense of dread harden in his stomach. “We would never have escaped here. They are killing us.” He tells you adamantly. “I was offered ten thousand and it wasn’t enough. Not enough to give you, us, the start somewhere else that we deserve.” He steps towards you and hates when you step back. “Little bird….I did this for us.”

You shake your head, feeling sick, "who did you - Dotty. Tell me it wasn't Dotty." You plead despite knowing deep down it's the truth. She's the woman who has always wanted your husband and she has that kind of money.

“It doesn’t matter. I promise you, little bird, nothing that transpired meant anything to me.” He still won’t come out and say it. “All that matters is that you and I can leave, to create a life for ourselves together.”

Your eyes widen at his thinly veiled confession and you feel sick. You shake your head, “nnn-no. I- oh Kevva. You - you and Dotty.” You choke, turning from him and you shrug him off when he touches your shoulder. “Little bird, please-” You shake your head and turn to look him in the eye. “Get out. Now. Get the fuck out!” You scream, shoving his chest. Your heart breaking in your own.

Ezra feels defeated, broken. Giving up so much of himself for you. You just need time, you will see why he sacrificed himself. “I-I’ll go.” He steps back, dropping the credits on the ground. “You will understand why I acted on the offer when the weight of their wants crush us.” He vows, turning around and walking out. He needs to plan your exit from this place, that will give you time to cool down.

You stare at him as he walks out and when the door shuts behind him, you collapse to the floor, sobs leaving your lips. You’re devastated. He cheated on you for money. He cheated on you with Dotty. You sob until your head hurts and you curl into a ball, numb from the pain of Ezra’s betrayal. It’s more than you can bear. You don’t care about the money, you would live under a bridge if you were with Ezra. Nothing mattered but loving him.

Everyone he knows is at work, toiling away. He walks along the empty streets towards the transport office. Wanting to reserve two seats on the next shuttle off planet. Wondering why you are acting like this? He had told you he would do whatever it took to provide for you, and now he’s done it. He’s given you a way off this miserable heap.

You sniff as you gather yourself, not wanting Dotty to defeat you completely. You wipe your eyes as you fold your laundry, wondering what underwear Dotty wears. Nicer ones than you, that’s for sure. You don’t look up as the door opens and Ezra walks in. You don’t look at him, continuing to fold the laundry. “I got us two tickets for tomorrow. We leave first thing to the Pug.” He says, “then we can figure out where to go from there.” You don’t answer. “You going to start packing?” He asks, his voice cutting through you enough that you turn to look at him. “I’m not going with you.”

“What? Of course you are.” Ezra scoffs, waiting for you to tell him that you are joking. “Little bird, this has been our dream. To leave this place and now we are.” His frown deepens when you turn back to folding the threadbare clothes that are more patches than original material. “Come on.” He rushes over and grabs the panties you are folding. “We don’t have time for this shit.”

You snap, “this shit? I have always wanted to leave this place but - but not like this. Not because you fucked another woman. I don’t - it’s not the right way, Ezra. I wanted us to leave together knowing we worked hard to get out. You- you betrayed me. You broke our vows. I love you but I can’t go with you. Not like this.” You choke, tears stinging in your eyes.

“You have to come.” Ezra snaps back. “I did this for you! You think I wanted to touch her? To climb into her bed? No, never, but I couldn’t afford our next rent payment!” He bellows, throwing the panties down and venting his frustrations. “I would not see you starving or begging, so I did what I had to do to provide for you! Just like I vowed to!”

You toss another pair of underwear at him. “You cheated on me, Ez! You touched another woman. You broke our vows. You - you betrayed me. You have ruined our marriage. I would rather starve. I’d rather beg. Knowing I have you, completely, that I’m yours and you’re mine. That’s all that mattered. We would be together no matter what we faced but you destroyed that. You fucked another woman!” You scream at him, “you destroyed us!”

“You think I wanted her? That I enjoyed myself?” Ezra snorts. “I sacrificed my body to give you the life that you could never have without that.” He takes a shuddering breath. “I love you, little bird. I love you so much that I did something repugnant for you, for us. I know you are mad, but this place is killing me. I nearly died three days ago, I feel like I’m expiring every time I descend into that mine. Leave with me.” He begs, his face turning to one of desperation. “Please, my love, my goddess, please.”

You choke on a sob, knowing that this is the end. You can never trust him again. Even if you forgive him. “I- I can’t, Ez. I can’t. You - you betrayed me. I can’t trust you anymore. Even if I forgive you, I could never trust you again.” You tell him, reaching up to slide his mother’s ring off of your fingers. Walking over to him, you grab his hand and gently place the ring in his palm, turning his fingers over it to keep it secure.

“Don’t do this.” Ezra chokes out. “Please- Don’t- you don’t want-“ he drops the ring to the floor and stumbles back. “I’m leaving.” He tells you. “Tomorrow. You- you’ll change your mind.” He nods, looking around the little company owned house frantically. “I know you will. You love me and I love you. That’s all that matters.” He scoops up some of the credits and shoves them in his pocket. “I- I’ll give you tonight to think about this. To let you cool down more.” He looks at you and there’s a strange light in his eyes, like he’s unable to face reality. “You’ll be there.” He tells himself and turns to walk out again.

You know he won’t accept you breaking up with him, but he has to. You can’t leave with him. You swallow harshly, shaking your head as he shuts the door behind him and you pick up the ring and the credits, wanting to keep them for him to take tomorrow. You have nearly finished your degree, only a few weeks left. Once that’s done, you’ll move off planet and make a new start. Without your husband. You wipe your tears, wondering if Ezra will change his mind on leaving or if he’s gone forever. You won’t be there to meet him at the station.

****

Ezra waits. His leg is bouncing as he watches the door of the terminal. He’s biting his lip and praying to Kevva to see your figure dash through the lobby in search of him. Needing to have you with him. “Sir?” He turns his head to find an attendant giving him a small smile. “I’m afraid the transport is calling for final boarding.” She explains and he swallows harshly. “I’m coming.” He says, standing up and looking back at the door one last time. You aren’t here and he can’t wait another week for the next transport. With a heavy heart, Ezra turns and walks away, heading for the transport off planet and away from the woman he loves.

You stare out of the window, the transporter lifting into the air and disappearing into the smog above. You close your eyes, knowing Ezra is on it. He’s left the planet, he’s left you. You know it’s for the best but your heart breaks.

****

“We have a patient. It’s an emergency.” You hear your name and look up at your matron, setting down your drink and you stand up, brushing down your scrubs. You rush down the hall of the Pug hospital to the room where the patient is and storm in, ready to assist. “He’s severely dehydrated and is missing an arm. It’s been removed poorly. He has sepsis. We need to move fast before he is beyond saving.” The other nurse tells you and you nod, pulling on gloves as you come over to the patient. You don’t recognize him at first, he’s older and looks haggard but you know that scar on his cheek. The one he got as a kid when he was in a fight because someone stole his lunch. “Ezra.” You gasp, knowing your husband despite it being so many years.

Ezra fever is climbing, sweat covering his body and he knows it’s a hallucination. “Little bird.” He croaks out, eyes bloodshot and fixed on you for a moment before they roll back in his head. His body slumps and alarms start to blare from where he was hooked up to monitors. “Save him!” Cee rushes into the room, her face almost panicked as she imagines losing the man who had protected her and she had also protected.

“Get her in the waiting room.” You demand and one of the other nurses takes Cee away, murmuring to her. Your heart is pounding as you fight to keep Ezra alive. Calling out to the others to get you what you need as you work to resuscitate him. “Don’t give up. Don’t you dare go like this.” You hiss at him as you pump his chest.

Adrift, Ezra is back where he always dreams of when he is happy, lonely, hurt or scared - in your arms. "I love you, little bird." He coos, kissing your lips again and again as he sighs. Feeling almost nothing but the supreme bliss of your love as you stroke his back and sides as you beam up at him. "I love you." You whisper back, making his heart thump with joy.

You panic, working hard to save him and when he stabilizes, you exhale shakily and continue working to save his life. When he’s stable and put into a private room at your request, you caress his cheek. The machines beep and reassure you he’s alive as you stare at the man you’ve always loved, even when you hated him. “Where have you been?” You ask, wondering where he has been spending his time. After he left your home planet, you realized you loved him more than any one mistake. Understanding that he did it for you, for your life together. Even if you were hurt and upset, you left the next week on the very next transporter to try and find him at the Pug but there was no sign of him. That was strands ago and you gave up trying to find your husband. His mother’s ring is on a chain around your neck, close to your heart. You don’t notice the girl coming into the room with your colleague until it’s too late and you pull your hand away.

"Do you know him?" Cee asks, her eyes focused on Ezra as he sleeps and then she looks back at you. "I- we- are you his daughter?" You ask, horrified that he might have fathered a child with someone when he left. Anything was possible. "No." The girl laughs and shakes her head. "He saved my life." She tells her. "After he killed my father. Or maybe it was when he did?" She tells you. "I'm Cee."

You are confused, trying to keep up with her story. You tell her your name, “I’m - I am Ezra’s wife. We are from the same planet. He left after - well, it’s a long story.” You sigh, eyes drifting to his arm. “What happened to his arm?” You ask the girl, wondering if she has the answer.

"I shot him." She admits, biting her lip. "After he killed my father. He came to the Pod. Trying to leave the Green. I was scared and I shot him. It festered and I had to cut off his arm."

You nod, understanding that she must’ve been scared. Ezra looks so weathered, a man who fought hard to survive and that upsets you. You should’ve been there beside him. “Kevva.” You murmur to yourself, sliding your hand down to take his in yours. Wanting to feel connected to him while you can until he wakes up and hates you for not meeting him that day. You’d confronted Dotty after Ezra left, returning her money, and she told you that it took some convincing to get Ezra into her bed. That he had moaned your name when he came. That’s what made you follow him.

“His wife.” Cee frowns and bites her lip. “He- everything we had was left on the Green.” She tells you quietly. “His case of aurelac. I couldn’t go back and get it. I almost couldn’t get him into the transport.” She admits, remembering how worried she had been. “I’m sorry. But- he- he protected me. Told me to leave him, but I couldn’t.”

You inhale sharply, “he nearly - oh Ez.” You sigh, leaning in to press your lips to his forehead. His monitors continue to beep and you are reassured that he’s okay for now. Cee watches you, “he mentioned you. Said he wanted to get the Aurelac to get credits the right way. Go back and find you.” She says and your throat tightens, “I- Kevva.” You shake your head at the time you’ve lost with him.

Ezra can hear you. The sweet cadence of your voice is nearly a faint memory at this point. The last time he had heard your voice was that horrible day where he had ruined his life. Nothing had much damn meaning since leaving the mining world, and you, behind. He had lied, cheated, stolen, killed and literally fucked in his vain attempts to earn enough credits to come back and win your acceptance back. Never really making enough to do that just now, he’s utterly failed. So it’s fitting that you are haunting his dreams, enticing him with the treasure he had once had in you and never would again.

Your shift ends but you don’t go home, sitting at his bedside while Cee sleeps in the chair in the corner. You think about the years you’ve lost together, the life you could’ve shared if you’d followed him off planet. You were younger, in love, and devastated by his betrayal. A betrayal he made to secure a better life for you. He sacrificed himself for you and your marriage, even if he tossed your vows aside. Now you’re older, more experienced, and you understand why he did it. The desperation he was feeling. You forgave him a long time ago, but you’ve never forgiven yourself for not going with him, for abandoning your husband. You hold his hand, listening to the machines beep, waiting for him to wake up.

The dust had taken its toll on Ezra, the nearly pure oxygen pumping through the breathing tubes in his nose helping to clear the buildup inside him. He had been trapped down on the Green for a long time before stumbling upon Damon and Cee. Now his body heals, sleeping heavily as it tries to heal itself. Feeling a squeeze on his hand every now and then, making him twitch slightly and he finally sighs softly, mumbling your name.

Your eyes widen, swearing you heard your name from his lips, and you lean in towards him. “Ezra, my love. I want you to wake up for me now.” You murmur, caressing his forehead and brushing his hair back, that signature blonde piece making your heart twist at the memories of playing with it when you were together.

You are calling to him. The sleep is trying to drag him back under, but he fights it, wanting to be with you. His eyes start to move under his lids and he groans quietly. “Come with me.” He begs, back in that little row house on the mining planet he was born on. “I love you. I’m sorry. I can never express my regret.” He whimpers in his sleep.

Your eyes widen at his sleepy confession, your heart pounding in your chest, and tears sting in your eyes. “I know. I know, my darling. I just need you to wake up for me now. Let me see those gorgeous eyes. The eyes that haunt me. Please.” You beg with a whimper, wanting to see him, to know he’s okay.

“Little bird?” His eyes flutter open slowly. Heavy and closing again only for him to try again. “Have I expired?” He croaks out softly when he catches sight of you and then his eyes close again. Battling them to see his beloved wife. “I must be in heaven if I am reunited with you.”

He hums. “Though I surely am deserving of hell.”

You shake your head, “you have survived. You’re alive. Just open your eyes and see.” You urge, squeezing his hand, “I want to look at you, baby.” You are relieved that he is alive, and he seems dazed but not delusional.

Finally, Ezra’s eyes open clearly. Confused for a moment before he looks at you and his mouth opens, no words coming out save for your name.

You smile at him, a soft, loving smile as relief floods through you at how clear his gaze looks, no longer clouded by infection. “Hi.” You murmur, squeezing his hand as he becomes more lucid.

“You-“ he looks over to see Cee curled up, asleep in a chair in the corner and the past few stands come rushing back to him. “I-“ his head snaps to the right and he sees the bandaged stump of his right arm. “How are you here?” He manages after a shocked moment.

You caress his cheek, “I am a nurse here. I got the job after you left. I- I tried to follow you. Gave the money back to Dotty except the ticket and left the planet to find you but by the time I got here, you were already gone.” You confess, pulling your hand away, realizing he could hate you, or think you still hate him.

“You- you followed me?” He asks, frowning slightly. “I left the Pug almost immediately, finding work as a Prospector.”

“A prospector?” You gasp, glancing over at Cee and she mentioned aurelac. Being a prospector is a certain death. More dangerous than the mines. The prospecting planets are dangerous - both from nature and from humans. The way they would kill and plunder their way through each other. “Why did you become a prospector?” You choke, thanking Kevva he’s still alive, even if he’s worse for wear.

He chuckles, a dark, raspy sound. “It became apparent that my liaison with Dotty not only cost me the love of my life, but my reputation.” He huffs, still miffed by her retribution for leaving. “It has seemed she was hoping amongst hopes that you would leave me, which you did, but I did not fall into her arms in despair like she had anticipated. Her father trashed my name, prospecting was the only work I could garner that could possibly earn a fortune.”

Your eyes widen at how far Dotty was willing to go to get what she wanted. You shake your head, tempted to return to your home planet to teach her a lesson but instead, you squeeze his hand. “Ezra.” You whisper, guilty for what he’s endured when you sent him away. Cee blinks as she opens her eyes, having kept them closed to listen to your conversation. “You also did it to win her back. You told me you wanted to return with enough riches to win your wife back.” Cee says and you look at Ezra, “is that true?”

“Little bird, I must extend my most humble of apologies.” He looks away from you and over to Cee. “Like your daydreams of the heroine in your book, my daydreams of being reunited with my love has been the fuel to keep me going.” He explains. “The light in the darkness and the unattainable goal that I have tasked myself with.” He squeezes your hand gently and finally looks into your eyes again. “No matter how much folly must be overcome.”

You stare at him in shock, those dark brown eyes you’d dream of, the gaze you’d longed for on lonely nights until your anger took hold of your heart again. Seeing him now, looking at you with enough regret for a hundred lifetimes, your heart breaks at the years you’ve lost together. “Ezra, my darling. I’m so sorry.” You murmur, leaning in to kiss his forehead.

Ezra closes his eyes, knowing that you are placating him for the sake of the girl. He doesn’t know what Cee has told you about his relatively short friendship with her. “You have not done a thing to cause regret, little bird.” He whispers, “other than perhaps once loving the scoundrel who battered your heart to pieces by his untamed greed.” He sighs. “Now that greed has turned him into a useless wretch, better for little more than fodder on the Green.”

You sigh, caressing his cheek, “hush now. You need to rest. Once you are cleared to go home, you’ll come back with me. You too.” You turn to look at Cee, unwilling to leave the girl to fend for herself. You have a nice place here on the Pug. It’s small but it’s yours, unlike the shack you lived in on your home planet that was owned by the company. “Just relax for now, Ez. You need to rest and heal.”

****

It had taken some convincing, but Ezra had finally given in to your demand that he come home with you. Mainly for Cee. The poor girl had nowhere to go, the traders unwilling to even consider a deal for the craft she had piloted in. He would heal until he could get her settled and then he would figure out what he will do next.

You set his satchel down and Cee walks into your apartment, smiling at the decor. “This is awesome.” She says, unable to remember walking into a place that felt so much like home. “There’s two bedrooms. Down the hall to the left is yours, Cee.” You tell her, pointing down the hall. You did have a roommate - a girl from the hospital who has since gotten married - and you got a promotion to afford the entire place to yourself after she moved out. Cee rushes down the hall with her bag, and you walk across the living room to the other door. “Ezra, this is your room.” You tell him, opening your bedroom door to him. He turns to look at you with a frown, “where are you sleeping?” He asks and you jerk your chin over to the sofa. “On the sofa.” He shakes his head but you stop him protesting, “it’s more comfortable than our bed back home. I’ll be fine. You need rest. You need to be comfortable.”

“I am not taking your room, little bird.” He tells you with a frown. “I have already committed so many sins against you, I would not add another to my blackened soul.”

You sigh, knowing how stubborn he can be. How convincing he can be to get his way when he wants to. “We are adults. We can share a bed.” You declare, knowing you’ll end up on the sofa after he’s asleep but at least you’re giving him the illusion that he’s not pushing you out of your bed. He needs to heal and to heal, he needs to be relaxed.

“You don’t want to share a bed with me.” He scoffs, eyes cast towards the door that Cee had disappeared through. “The sofa you have looks better than the last ten places I’ve slept.”

You huff, "Ezra. You aren't going on the fucking sofa. Just take the damn bed." You demand, "I know what it takes to heal. Listen to me for once in your life." You growl, growing tired of his martyrdom.

Your comment hits him where it hurts and his eyes shutter. “Whatever you say is best.” He murmurs, turning to shuffle into the bedroom that is your space. It will be torment for him, his own special kind of hell where he is surrounded by you and yet you are still so far away.

You prepare dinner for Ezra and Cee while they settle in. Unsure of how to feel now that Ezra is in your home and on his way to being healed. You stir the pasta as Ezra enters the tiny kitchen, his shirt sleeve hanging down and your stomach twists at his missing limb. A shadow of the vivacious man you married. “I made your favorite…I - I don’t know if it’s still your favorite.” You add, looking at him from the stove.

“It has been a long time since I’ve eaten that particular cuisine.” He admits. “Since the last time you made it for me. I have mainly lived off bits bars and packaged protein pouches.”

You hate hearing that but you remind yourself that he got himself in that situation by breaking your wedding vows. He’s still technically your husband unless Dotty had her father sign away your marriage. You wouldn’t be surprised. You offer him a small smile, “hopefully it’s as good as it used to be.”

“I’m sure it will be.” Ezra murmurs softly. “You have always been able to create culinary art with simple ingredients. Shame the devil, you were a better cook than my poor mother.”

You shake your head, “your mama was a damn good cook.” You remember when she would bring food over for you and Ezra when you first moved in together. You gesture to the table and call for Cee to come and get some dinner. It’s a quiet event but Cee fills the space with a ramble about her new school. You smile at her, liking her positivity in life despite the hand she was dealt and you enjoy the small groans that escape Ezra’s lips as he eats his dinner. “Good?” You ask him, hoping he likes it.

“Ambrosia.” His eyes flutter closed and he savors the food, memories of past meals just like this come flooding back. Reminding him of what he had at one point. Especially because eating with his left hand is harder than he would have expected. Leaning back, he swallows the bite and groans. “It’s just like I remembered. Maybe even more delicious.”

You watch him struggle with his left hand but don’t try to help him, knowing he would be frustrated and lash out. “I already arranged for you to have physical therapy to help you adjust to your left hand.” You tell him and he doesn’t say anything but he doesn’t argue so you take that as a victory. Cee compliments your food and helps you clean the dishes while Ezra has a shower. Cee bids you goodnight not long after you finish drying so you decide to go into your bedroom to see if Ezra needs help. He does. He struggles to pull his underwear up his legs and you find him in the bedroom struggling to put his t-shirt on. “Here.” You say, “let me help.” You reach out to gently pull the shirt over his head and his dark eyes meet yours.

“Why are you helping me?” He demands. “You should leave me to struggle. I would deserve it for what I did. What I put you through.” He admits. “If you think that my betrayal with Dotty was bad, I have committed even more sins after becoming so adrift by myself.” He snorts. “I became a floater, without an anchor.”

You stare at him, letting him rant for a moment. “Then you clearly forget who I am, Ez. I would never leave you to struggle when you need me. You might’ve discarded our vows but I promised to stand by you in sickness and in health. I don’t care what sins you committed after you left, that’s for your soul to carry but I’m here to be your wife, even if you don’t want me to be.”

“You told me to leave.” Ezra reminds you bitterly. “My momma’s ring in my hand, fresh from your finger.” He shakes his head. “I do not wish to have you mistake your pity for some kind of misguided duty.” Even though he had wanted to win you back, he had always thought of it as impossible. Refusing to believe you would want to be with him in any true sense after that day.

You narrow your eyes at him, “I told you to leave because you broke my heart. You broke our vows for credits. I- I didn’t understand it. Then you left and I spent days just wondering what I did wrong until I came across Dotty and she told me you could barely get hard for her. That you moaned my name when you came. She might’ve had your body but I had your heart, your desire, your mind. That’s why I decided to follow you but by the time I got here, you were gone. I never stopped loving you. It’s always been you in my heart. Only you.” You promise, “even if you don’t believe me, I want you to know that.” You murmur, stepping back from him.

“Little bird….I cannot claim that I have not had other affairs, other physical encounters.” He admits, frowning slightly at the idea that he might hurt you further. “When I left that world, I was broken. Convinced that my love, my entire heart, hated me. I have lived as if I was unmarried, but never once, in all the encounters I have had, has someone even touched my heart.” He huffs slightly and gives you a sad smile. “It’s hard for someone to steal something that isn’t mine to bequeath them. Not when I left it behind in your hands.”

You sigh and nod softly, “I haven’t been without my own encounters, Ez. I wasn’t going to sit around and pretend like I’d find you again and everything would be like it was. I- I’ve had my share of physical encounters here on the Pug but no one has had my heart. I’m certain that Dotty had our marriage annulled by her father the morning after you slept with her because my name on the transport was my maiden name in the system. Our vows weren’t broken anymore than they already were.” You promise, “we have both lived our lives to survive.”

His heart clenches and he nods. “She was diabolical enough to do just such a thing.” He growls, hating that he had ever known the bitch. “If I could change things, I would have never entertained the idea, let alone done it.” He murmurs. “I’ve lost so much, but my greatest regret was losing you.”

You reach up to cup his cheek, “baby. Baby. I- I love you. I forgave you long ago. I understand why you did it. Now I understand what you did was for us. I was betrayed, I was hurt. I was devastated that you broke our vows. You didn’t want to - I know that you didn’t want to touch her. I love you, Ez. No one has ever held a candle to you.” You murmur, shaking your head.

It’s an absolution he never thought he would receive, one he never deserved in his mind once he had worked through his righteous anger. He had betrayed you, even though he was doing the only thing he could at the time to try to improve your situation. It had ended up costing him everything. “I-“ he breaks down, closing his eyes and whimpering out a sob of relief. You said you love him, not past tense, but that you still do. “I adore you, little bird. Always.”

You pull him close to wrap your arms around him, his one arm pulling you close as he sobs into your neck. You can tell he’s been through so much. “Let’s get some rest, my darling. You need to sleep.” You murmur, rubbing his back as he calms down.

He’s uncharacteristically meek as you lead him towards the bed, exhausted from the emotional outburst and the relief that you no longer hate him. He sits down when you draw the covers back. “I could have had the fortune.” He murmurs softly, frowning. “But I would have had to trade Cee to the Saters on the Green.” He looks up at you sorrowfully. “I couldn’t do that. Not to that little girl.”

You caress his cheek, “you might think you’re a monster but deep down, you’re a good man. The man I married is a good man. You did what you felt was right and you didn’t make the same mistake twice. You saved her. She saved you. She will always have a home with us if she wants to.” You promise him, pushing him back towards the bed.

Your approval is all that matters to him. Leaning back and closing his eyes with a sigh. “I’m sorry you have to deal with me.” He murmurs. “Useless now. Can’t barely dress myself.”

You chuckle, “in sickness and in health, baby.” You pull the covers over him and lean in to kiss his forehead, “you’ll get better. You just need to figure out how to do everything left-handed. It will take time but you’ll get there.” You murmur, standing back up. 

“Stay.” He pleads softly, those dark eyes burning into you. You hesitate for a second, knowing this is crossing a line you can’t come back from but you don’t care. You nod, silently agreeing as you make your way into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

He knows that you’ve been sleeping on the couch. You’ve always conveniently had to do things until he’s fallen asleep and that side was never disturbed. Now, he watches the bathroom, feeling like it’s the first night you’ve ever spent together, even though physical intimacy isn’t on the table. When you come back out, Ezra sighs, “Birdie, you are still the most gorgeous creature I have ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on.”

You fluster under his dark stare and his praise. "The years haven't always been kind to me." You confess and shift to lay down on the bed, getting under the sheets. "I have missed my best friend." You murmur, shifting closer to him.

Ezra opens his lone arm, offering you the place against his side that you always preferred. “I have missed you with every beat of my heart and every labored breath I have taken since we were parted.” He promises, pleased when you shuffle closer and lay your head on his shoulder. “I should have never left you. Despite what sins I committed. I should have stayed and groveled at your feet.”

You sigh, reaching up to rub your fingers through his hair. “It’s - it’s the past now, my love. Let’s move forward. I only want to think about the future. I want you to promise me that we only think about the future from now on.” You murmur, sliding your hand down to caress his cheek, tracing the scar on his skin, and your eyes flick up to his. His eyes meet yours and you slowly lean in to softly press your lips to his.

It’s the most gentle kiss Ezra has had since the last one he shared with you. Unable to kiss anyone else with the same tenderness, he melts at the small amount of pressure and slowly tilts his head to deepen it, wanting more of you almost immediately.

You deepen the kiss, sliding your tongue against his lower lip and he grants you access, making you moan into his mouth. He groans softly and his hand cups the back of your head as you kiss him.

Just this one kiss has Ezra aching for you. Already starting to harden in his boxers despite it being the first erection since being injured on the Green. Wishing that he had both of his arms to hold you with.

You feel how eager he is for you, pressing against your hip, and you can't pull back. If you were sensible, you'd pull away and take a moment to process but it's been years since you were with your husband and all you want is to hear him moan again. You throw your leg over his hip, grinding against him, getting wetter in your sleep shorts with each kiss he presses to your lips.

“Fuck.” Ezra hisses into your mouth, bucking his hips up as you grind down. You are so sexy, so perfect and all he can think about is how long it has been since he has tasted you. “I-“ he pulls away from your lips and starts to kiss down your throat. “Let me apologize to you with the skill of my tongue.” He begs you. “I cannot do everything I used to, but my face will make a divine perch for your wonderfully little cunt.”

You gasp against his hair as he kisses your neck. "Kevva, Ez. I don't want to hurt you." You murmur and he pulls back, shaking his head. "Little bird, you could never hurt me enough to pay for the agony I caused you." He declares and you hesitate for a second before you nod. You shift back and sit up, removing your tank top to expose your tits to his hungry gaze. Your shorts are next and you are soon straddling Ezra's chest. "Tell me if I am hurting you." You demand, lifting your hips and shuffling forward until you hover over his face.

He won’t breathe a word about it, never. Not when he has caused you so much strife. But your thighs are away from his arms and you don’t touch the remaining portion of his right arm, so Ezra is fine. Especially when he can gaze on your cunt like a long denied treat. “Kevva, you smell the same.” He groans, inhaling your scent. “All my favorite meals are available for me to dine on tonight.” He huffs proudly before lunging forward to slide his tongue between your lips.

Your hips lower a little more to allow him better access to your pussy and your hands find security on the headboard. His name a breathless moan from your lips as he eats you like a man who was starving for weeks. Perhaps that is accurate, he was starved on the Green. Of affection. Of a home. Of real food. "Fuck." You pant, rocking down onto his face as you relax into the pleasure.

Your moans are urging him on. Recalling your taste and gorging himself on it, on your sounds as he licks and sucks on the tender little clit that has always been so sensitive for him. His cock throbs but he would die a happy man, right here with his tongue buried in your cunt and your moans echoing in his ears.

You moan, rocking a little harder, and when he sucks on your clit, you’re gone. You shake above him, moaning his name as you cum on his chin and soak his skin. “Oh fuck, baby.” You choke, your body stiffening as he works you through it until you have to lift off of his face.

His jaw, mouth and lower face is covered in your slick and he grunts in protest when you pull away. Knowing that he could have spent hours just like that while you drowned him in your cum. “So good, little bird.” He rasps out. “Missed that beautiful liquid honey that pours out of your cunt.”

You straddle his belly, slick sliding against his skin, and you bend down to kiss him, uncaring of the tang of your orgasm on his lips as you slide his tongue into your mouth. "I want to ride you, Ez." You murmur, nipping his chin. 

"The day I deny you that is surely the day that Kevva comes to claim my blackened soul." He declares and you shift to sit up, shuffling back until you are hovering over him. Your eyes meet his as you grip his cock and slowly sink down onto him after positioning him at your dripping pussy. Ezra hisses in pleasure, his entire body lighting up at the glorious feeling of your cunt wrapped around his cock again. It doesn’t matter who he’s fucked, no one has ever compared to you. Moaning your name, his fingers dig into your hips as you settle down on his cock. “You are just as tight as the time I stole your innocence.” He groans in delight. “I love you.” He murmurs your name again, his eyes dark and fixed on yours. “Only you. Forever.”

You moan, caressing his chest, the scars of battles fought without you. You sigh and start to move once you adjust to him inside of you. He stretches you out, he always would stretch you out even with foreplay, and you love the slight pinch. Moaning his name, you rock on top of him, your palms on his chest and you feel his heart pounding under your touch.

You look like an angel above him. Ezra can’t even tear his gaze away from you and he uses his one hand to caress up and down your side. “My beautiful angel.” He chokes out. “Kevva sent.”

You smile down at him, reaching for his hand as you move your hips and you press your lips to his knuckles, wanting him to feel just as worshiped. You rock slow but deep, moving your hips enough to make him push deeper inside of you with each motion. “Kevva sent you back to me. You’ve been punished enough, my love. I want us to look forward to a bright future together. Whatever it holds.”

Ezra groans, nodding breathlessly as he watches you move. Completely entranced and just as in love with you as he had been so many years ago. “I love you. I love you so much, little bird.”

You nod, squeezing his hand as you move on top of him. You are getting closer, your walls fluttering around his cock, and you bring his hand down your body to your clit, pressing his thumb there. He gets the hint, rubbing your clit a little faster as you rock on top of him. “Fuck baby.” You moan, reaching out to grip the headboard, your tits swaying as you ride him. “Oh oh ohhhhh Ez.” You pant, clamping down on his cock as you fall apart around his cock.

He groans, loving how tight you are and how you are soaking him every time your walls contract. “Baby, my love.” He whispers, watching you in awe and appreciating how gorgeous you are. “Are you- your implant?” He gasps, dangerously close to cumming but he wants to make sure you are safe.

“I got a new one. It’s safe.” You pant out, letting go of the headboard and you cup his cheeks, leaning in to kiss him as you start to move again. Rocking back onto him, you moan into his mouth, “cum for me.”

He doesn’t try to rock up into you, letting you set the pace to make him cum. Enjoying the way that you are working his cock, milking it as you ride him. “I- fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

Ezra groans. “Gonna fill you up. Paint my favorite canvas of your womb.”

You moan at his words, always waxing poetry in the filthiest way. “That’s it, baby. Cum for me.” You beg breathlessly, struggling to keep working yourself on his cock, your thighs aching, but you want to watch his face when he fills you up. His brow furrows, his lips parting until he lets out a groan, cock twitching inside of you as he fills your womb just like he promised.

Ezra shudders, his hips jerking up and his eyes flutter and roll back in his head. Riding out the best fucking orgasm he’s had in years, since you, with another filthy groan of your name. Until he’s completely spent, pouring himself into you.

You smile against his chin, breathing him in and he relaxes beneath you. You’re reunited with your husband after so many years of loving and hating him. You caress his cheek and his arm comes up to slide along your spine. “Still the most magnificent pussy in the fucking galaxy.” He murmurs and you giggle, kissing him softly, “and all yours.”

****

You stare out of the window at the suns, glowing above as you finish stirring the sauce for Ezra’s favorite meal. “Mama! How long until dinner?” Your son asks, his small patch of blonde hair just like his father. 

“Not long, baby. Go wash your hands. Tell Cee to clean up too.” You order and your five year old rushes off to tell his “sister” to get ready for dinner. 

“Mmm, is that my favorite?” You feel an arm wrap around your waist. Your husband kisses along your neck and you tilt your head to allow him more access. His glasses dig into your skin but you don’t care, turning your head to press your lips to his. 

“It is. Wanted to celebrate our wedding anniversary. All those years ago and the shit we went through and here we are.” You smile and Ezra caresses your round stomach. 

“Another baby on the way. Cee is about to head out on her own. We did good, little bird.” He murmurs, his eyes full of adoration. 

“We did. We got off that damn planet and we made it in the end.” You hum, placing your hand on top of his. 

“We made it.” Ezra repeats softly, kissing your head as he looks out of the window to a bright blue sky and clean air.

[stitch-away]

space cowboy needs some lovin'

pairing: trans ezra (prospect) x cis male reader

summary: you find what you thought was an abandoned ship on the forest moon, only to be greeted by a lonely space cowboy

tags: MDNI, smut, pwp, humping, nipple play (kinda), breeding, talk of getting pregnant, strangers to lovers, poor baby's just lonely and needs someone

word count: 1.5k

a/n: my ezra is trans and this was just an excuse to force other people to see him as trans too

pride month masterlist

trekking through the forest moon alone has been hard. you haven’t found hardly anything and you’re getting tired. it hasn‘t just been the terrain or the lack of gems you’ve found that have been making this hard. it’s been the oppressive loneliness that seems to follow you round like a bad smell. it’s been eating at your morale. 

pushing through the dense greenery, you find another ship. it’s a little run down with the nature of the planet starting to crawl up and consume it. you approach it, trying to find the entrance. if you can’t leave this moon with gems you may as well raid some old ship for scraps. 

as you find the entrance and crack the door, you’re met with a pistol in the face. a man with a scruffy beard and a white streak in his hair is staring down at you behind his helmet.

“announce y’self, stranger,” the man grunts. you fumble over your words but eventually tell him your name.

“i thought this was abandoned,” you say, putting your hands up, “i didn’t mean to impose. i’m just looking for supplies. hit a dry spot recently.” the man nods, lowering his weapons.

“a’ight then,” he sticks his hand out to help you into the ship, “i probably got spare things ya could have. come on in.” 

he hauls you up and closes the ship door, unclipping his helmet. you do the same, watching the man mill about his ship for spare supplies. 

“‘m ezra by the way,” he smiles, chuckling you a sealed bag of food. he slumps down in the ship, grabbing some food for himself. you notice then, as he tears the seal with his mouth, that one of his arms is missing from the shoulder down. 

“if you don’t mind me asking,” you start, opening your own bag of food, “what happened there?” ezra looks down at his lack of right arm and chuckles.

“ay, jus’ a lil’ scratch,” ezra jokes, “a cut got infected. couldn’t save it.” he shrugs. “i make do without it.”

“must be tough,” you say, trying to make small talk with this man you just met. it’s a little strange to be invited to sit and eat with someone out here in this hostile environment. but it’s not unwelcome. 

“yeah, it’s too bad it was my shootin’ arm,” he mutters, “but at least it wasn’t my most useful hand.” he smirks, gesturing down to his crotch. you cough, choking a little on your food.

“wow, you’re very… open,” you chuckle awkwardly. 

“yeah, my apologies, little bird,” ezra chuckles, running his hand through his hair, “i ain’t been round others in… fuck– too long.” 

“it’s alright,” you shrug, “i haven’t been round people in awhile either.” his eyebrows raise slightly, his eyes flashing with something like hope. maybe it was the shared loneliness, his charming southern accent, or that cute dyed patch in his hair, but something is drawing you to him. inside and outside. but mainly on the inside. 

he watches as your eyes trail from his face down the rest of his body. the space suit isn’t flattering but it’s still worth the stare. 

“like what ya see, handsome?” ezra smirks, sitting up with his elbow on his knee. there’s an undeniable charisma to this strange man. 

“maybe,” you shrug, a small smirk on your lips, “or maybe i just haven’t seen another person in awhile. ezra wets his lips and stands up. his fingers go to the zip on his suit.

“i could show ya something you probably ain’t ever seen,” he says, bravado in his voice, “if you’ll let me?” you scoff a little and lean back, discarding your food completely now. 

“not much i haven’t seen out here,” you say, fingers finding the zip of your own suit, “but go ahead. surprise me.” 

with your permission, ezra unzips the suit and lets it pool round his ankles. he steps out of the suit and pulls his undershirt off. he reveals an arm with soft muscle and pecs that have old scarring underneath them. when he moves to his pants, that’s the real show stopper. he undoes his pants and drops them with his underwear, leaving himself bare before you. between his legs, the cock you assumed would be there is instead replaced by a pussy, covered by an unshaved bush, from which his clit can be seen poking out. 

“well, fuck,” you chuckle as you lean forwards to get a closer look, “you’re right. i haven’t seen that before.” you quickly pull your suit and undershirt off, leaving yourself in your rapidly straining underwear. 

“take ‘em off,” ezra says firmly, walking to you. you immediately comply, pulling your underwear down and kicking the away. he steps either side your hips and kneels down. he takes your cock in his hand, stroking it slowly. he lowers himself down so his wet cunt presses against the shaft of your cock. he stops stroking you and lays your cock flat to your stomach. he kneels all the way down and starts to roll his hips, sliding your cock through the lips of his cunt. 

you let out a choked moan as he continues to hump your cock. the slide of ezra’s arousal mixed with the pressure of his weight on your hips feels so good. 

“ya like that, pretty bird?” ezra smirks, biting back his own moans. the way his clit rubs against your cock makes his long untouched cunt weep.

“oh fuck,” you groan, gripping ezra’s hips, “yes, keep doing that.” ezra continues to slide across your cock, both you getting close a lot faster than either you want. 

“shit,” ezra bites, lifting himself cunt off your cock with a groan, “i don’t know about you, but i was getting a little too close there. i wan’ this to go on at least a little bit longer.” he gives you a crooked smile, placing his hand beside your head as he leans in to kiss you softly.

“ya wanna put it in now, handsome?” ezra whispers against your lips. you nod and pull him back in for another kiss, letting your tongue dive into his mouth.

he lowers his hips and you press yours up, using one hand to angle your cock as you push in. the head of your slides in and you groan into ezra’s mouth. having his pussy grinding on you felt amazing, but to have it wrapped tight round your cock is a whole other thing. 

ezra pulls back from the kiss, sitting up with a smirk on his lips. grounding himself with his hand on the floor, he begins to roll his hips again. you grip onto ezra’s hips even harder than before, lost in the feeling of his cunt squeezing your cock.

“ya like it when i ride ya, cowboy?” he chuckles, a little breathless. you nod, letting a whimper slip past your lips. ezra laughs proudly at your whimper; even though it’s been a while, he can still reduce a man to nothing but whimpers. 

he moves his hand from the ground to your chest, brushing over one of your nipples before pinching it. a loud moan is pulled from your throat and your hips buck up into ezra. he whines softly as you hit deeper inside him. you take a hand off his hip and instead move it to his clit. ezra clenches round your cock as the ship echoes with both of your moans. 

“oh fuck yeah,” ezra groans, increasing his pace on your cock, “keep rubbin’ it– just like that.” the way his eyes close and his head lulls back to show the strong expanse of his neck, tells you he’s getting closer. 

ezra removes his hand from your nipple and places it over your hand, guiding you on exactly how to rub his clit. as you work in tandem with his guidance, you slowly bring him to orgasm. the way his mouth falls open, his cunt clenches, and a beautiful moan falls from his lips, you follow quickly after. you buck your hips and throw your head in a moan as you pump ezra’s cunt full of your cum. 

after a few more rolls of his hips, ezra slumps down on top of you, panting into your neck. slowly slipping off your cock, he rolls over next to you. as you feel your cum leak out of his hole, it hits you.

“shit, ezra,” you say, turning to face him, “can you get pregnant?” ezra frowns for a moment and taps his stomach. 

“i don’t get my period anymore, so he could be as barron as a wasteland,” ezra chuckles, looking down at his stomach, “but honestly, ‘m not quite sure. though i don’t think i’d mind if i could.” he looks back up at you, a longing lingering in his eyes. “it’s real lonely out here.” 

you move closer, wrapping your arms around ezra’s waist and holding him close. you tuck your head into his neck, his stubble tickling your nose. 

“yeah,” you whisper, “it is.” his hand comes up to tangle in the bottom of your hair.

“y’know,” he sighs, “ya could stay awhile– if you’d like. we could share supplies, help each other out… maybe feel a little less alone.” 

“i’d like that a lot.”

♡♡♡♡

tag: @perezososstuff

[yomi345345345]

a few doodles of ezra

[kedsandtubesocks]

blood on your name

Cowboy!Ezra x F!Reader

summary: Texas 1885 - the town’s ranching competition brings in new souls out from the desert, one unfortunately happens to be a ghost haunting you & he’s still as handsome and dangerous as ever

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY. MDNI, old Wild West AU, slight enemies to lovers, very morally!gray Ezra, fingering, oral (f receiving), pussy pronouns, one moment of spit kink, allusions to p in v, scoundrel but soft!Ezra, themes of violence & reader enacting violence on another, use of guns, blood & injury, morally!gray reader, time period views of marriage & shaming women (brief use of derogatory terms against reader), minor character deaths, light gender language usage, use of nicknames

word count: 7.2k

a/n: here’s to finally putting my 7th grade tx history lessons to some use plus I’ve been really missing west texas so here we are lol! Fun history fact - Pecos prides itself as the birth place of the rodeo so this competition is the inception of that! It took me a while to get here & this truly wouldn’t be here without @gasolinerainbowpuddles @julesonrecord & @perotovar i can’t thank you babes enough, and to you, if you decide to read this too, thank you so much ♡

The newcomers that blew into town stand around the edge of the fence.

Pecos had become famous for hosting this rope wrangling event, and you’re not surprised it’s brought others in to observe the spectacle. Just last week it seemed like more wagons wandered into the edge of town.

You’ve been living here among the desert’s harsh eyes with your aunt for a few years now. When your mother unleashed her wrath after she found you with an unmarried man who had drifted into town, you fled with the caravan heading out west. So far west it brought you to the Pecos River. You’re thankful your aunt welcomed you with open arms. The desert proved to be a harsh host. But you’ve managed.

The actual event in town wasn’t taking place until the end of the week. Except so many already want to see the cowboys proudly warming up, showing off.

It’s why you even stop on your way home from the tailor shop.

Duke Williams currently tries his hand at practicing. The handsome young star all the way from Austin shows promise while he maneuvers his threadbare rope with ease.

He lands a solid catch against one of the practice sheep running around, and the crowd claps already impressed.

His bright face, angelic almost, brightens when he smiles triumphantly. When he spots you among the on looks, he beams even wider. You smile back politely.

However, Martha, the mayor’s youngest daughter, nudges you.

“I don’t know why you haven’t let that man swoop you up yet?” She giggles with a slight tease however, her words sting.

Duke’s been pursuing you ever since he came into town last spring. He reminds you of a newly built chapel, lovely coated in pristine and full of holy hope.

Yet, you don’t care for him.

You understand you should be married by now. Especially at your age, you’re becoming a dusting antique on the shelf by the town’s whispers. You even understood your mothers anger after discovering the man she caught you with had simply scurried away without another word.

Everyone in town seems to see Duke almost as your god blessed savior on a white horse sent to rescue you from a desolate destitution.

But you don’t hold any sense of attraction towards Duke. Even as you watch how handsome and sturdy he looks, a fierce cowboy among the other competitors, you simply admire his skills. And that’s it.

You wonder if you’re simply destined to the life of a happily secluded cactus like creature.

Something tickles against your skin, a sensation of being hyper aware of being caught in another’s gaze. Living in the desert has brought you a heightened awareness to make sure no critters lurking among can strike you.

So your eyes flicker around and find the crowd still enthralled by the sight of the cowboys.

Until you find one man isn’t.

One of the newcomers.

Sun kissed skin, an absolutely striking hawkish nose, sparse facial hair and then, the deepest dark earth eyes you’ve ever seen stare straight at you. The dusty black cowboy hat he wears casts a strange shadow across his features, cloaking him almost sinister.

Your breath hitches fast like it’s stolen from you.

You know this stranger.

One of the other newcomers nudges against him drawing his attention away from you. But your face stays stuck on him.

The men discuss with each other low and close, clustered together like a pack of desert weeds sprouting fast.

Except after the mystery outsider relays something back to the group, his eyes flicker back to you.

There’s a simmered wildness to him.

The commotion of spurs clinking comes and so many giggle around you, drawing your attention away.

Duke moves towards you with a shining grin on his face.

A desire to scurry away tugs at you. So with a polite smile, you silently duck away and decide to head home.

“Hey! Why ya leaving so soon?” He calls out. “Did you see me?”

His voice is so bright but also, so slightly arrogant, as if he can maybe keep you from leaving.

“Yes, you were incredible.” You’re truthful in your words.

Thankfully the others all around begin greedily vying for his attention.

As you turn to head home, that strange itch crawls over you again. Someone’s watching you.

So glancing around you think it must be Duke, but his attention is preoccupied.

However, it’s the handsome black cowboy hat stranger who again blatantly stares so direct at you.

A moment passes of you simply staring back at him.

However you break the contact first, needing to head home. But the entire way you sense his eyes blazing a hole on your back.

By the time you hit the edge of town towards your aunt’s cabin, the day creeps into early evening.

Above, vultures circle around high. However… there isn’t any sign of decay nearby.

- ☾𖤓 -

Your walk towards the tailor shop passes by the large stretch of land where the cowboys practice. Duke cries out your name excited. Politely you turn to greet him good morning only to find he’s not alone.

Other cowboys of course have come to wrestle in their skills. One of them surprises you.

The man you saw a few days ago is here.

His deep midnight eyes flicker to you immediately. That handsome face of his stays entirely composed.

Duke rattles on about his day. Yet you pay no attention as the new cowboy has stolen all your focus. The black cowboy hat he wears is dusty, weathered, and for some reason, you feel as if it both does and doesn’t suit him.

Duke chirps out your name again. Apologizing, you blame your dazed attention on lack of sleep.

Your night has been restless

“Hope ol’ lady Julie isn’t working y’too hard at the tailor shop.” He grins boyish and charming.

“Oh, Duke.” A smooth twang of a voice floats out. Waltzing in besides the cowboy, the newcomer arrives.

“You didn’t tell me your bird was so lovely.” His voice is curled with a smile and his voice, a deep drawl, draws an acidic venom in your mouth.

“I’m not his bird.” You politely reply.

“Not yet.” Duke adds warm, shy. But that only causes your stomach to squirm even more.

“Name’s Ezra, dear honeysuckle.” The newcomer introduces himself with a tip of his hat.

You nod back quietly giving him your name.

“Ezra came for the competition, traveled all this way just to try his hand at it!” Duke, ever the competitor, explains excited for the new competition.

Your eyes unfortunately stay on the newcomer rider.

Compared to Duke, Ezra’s frame is lithe. Then again, Duke with his incredibly tall stature is built like a terrifying boulder. Ezra’s broad shoulders and his striking sleek build makes you think of a river, fluid yet quietly powerful.

As unfortunately handsome as he is, his frame does not seem like a cowboy’s build.

Instead he reminds you of the traveling con man you once knew.

Duke continues rattling on and on about how proud he is to show off the town and this event.

You however hate the way Ezra’s eyes still on you make your skin tighten.

Excusing yourself with a soft nod, wishing them both well, you return on your way to the seamstress. Your body burns the entire way.

The day goes by slowly at the shop. After working on a few ruined blouses, Julie, the elderly shop owner, keeps you busy with tidying up. When the sun starts setting, the door clings open, and you wonder who’s coming in so late.

Ezra saunters in, and your throat tightens.

“Welcome in, newcomer!” Julie greets with a grandmotherly grace. “What can we do for you, good sir?”

Ezra smiles with all the charm of a gilded cactus.

“Seems I am in need of a new stitch for these gloves of mine.” Ezra explains pulling out worn gloves.

Leather frayed along the straps speak of the weathered and worn attention they’ve been given. But they seem too big for his hands. You even swear you’ve seen them before on his old business partner. But you don’t want to think too much on it.

Good dear sweet Julie chatters with the man. You simply stay quiet, not even turning to greet or address him.

You don’t even work on his gloves, deciding to let Julie handle them.

You even hide out in the back room, not even listening to when Ezra leaves.

Julie ends up heading home, and you’re left to close up. The sun sets a dusty fading apricot against the shadow of the tailor shop.

As you pass by the alleyway, suddenly you’re handed into the dark shadows. You’re about to scream, maybe even yelp, until a hand goes flying across your face, silencing you.

“Now now, pidge, don’t need you making too much of a holler.” Ezra.

Anger seethes in you, boiling. Violently and with a harsh yank, you tear yourself away from his grasp. You’re almost tempted to storm away.

“Didn’t think I’d ever be graced by your beauty again. That mother of yours still got that shotgun she threatened me with?” He smoothly asks with the amount of dangerous charm a rattlesnake would carry.

“What? This your last attempt at selling that watered down snake oil you call elixirs and tonics?” You snap back razor sharp.

When you first met Ezra, which now feels like lifetimes ago, he was a smooth talking traveling salesman. A drifter, as your mother so harshly called him.

Instead of the cowboy hat he wears now, he looked more stately in his bowler type cap.

He charmed so many of the women in town, trying to sell them the secrets to youth, vitality, beauty, and anything else he could promise in his elixir vials. You however, were not interested, saw right through his ruse.

Though, you realize now you were just as foolish as the others in town rapidly buying his lies. Because you had been just as charmed and fooled as they were.

This man, who’s sharp wit intrigued you, who spoke to you as an equal, became so dangerous because you were willing to give him everything.

Your heart, your body - all of you should have been reserved for your husband. Instead you freely gave everything to this thief.

The swindler swore he would take you with him, make you his wife. But when your mother’s fury came, he fled like a petrified jackrabbit.

You suppose he is more coyote than jackrabbit, greedily stealing anything he can then sneakily moving on.

Ezra’s composed grin on his face flickers, like all the history resting between you and him resurfaces within him.

“Didn’t you hear, pidgeon? My elixirs were plundered. Even my poor partner, god rest his dear soul, was shot down in cold blood!” Ezra explains with sorrow.

You had heard about that. At the edge of town, on the dirt road leading out into the hills, one of the sheriff’s found the large carriage and Ezra’s associate dead. The carriage crashed, run off the road. The damage screamed of the work of bandits. However, Ezra was nowhere to be found.

“I’m just supposed to believe you miraculously made it out of there alive?” You narrow your eyes suspiciously.

You don’t want to say it, but your instincts twist dangerously in your stomach. You wonder if Ezra did the deed himself, killed his partner and took the valuables.

Ezra shrugs sheepishly.

“That’s the way the desert works, honeysuckle. It’s a harsh landscape that only protects those who can survive its wrath.”

You forgot how much he spoke like a preacher sometimes, so elevated and otherworldly. You hate how badly your heart races just being this close to him again, hearing his voice again.

“So you’re telling me you came all the way here just to try your hand at the competition? Never even seen you ride, much less thrown a rope. Can’t imagine a con-man like you being a cowboy.” You reply skeptical.

He barks a laugh. “You'd be surprised. I’m a man composed of many unrevealed talents.”

You knew that very well.

Cautiously, treading like he’s approaching a mountain lion, Ezra steps closer to you. Out of instinct you step backwards closer to the other shop beside the tailors.

“Now don’t tell me you’re pondering the idea of telling everyone about my past life, pidge?” His voice is low, calm but brewing like an approaching storm.

“Because it pains me just imagining the repercussions that could arise if ya did.” He mutters, and your throat gets tight.

There's an underlying threat below his words.

Fiercely, stubbornly, you glare at him, refusing to speak. But you know you won’t say anything. He must know it too. You’ve left your past far back at home. And you don’t want him reviving your ghosts either.

Suddenly the back of Ezra’s hand gingerly, barely touching your skin, grazes against your cheek. He whispers out your name.

“The years out here have made you bloom, like a beautiful desert petal.” He mumbles with hazed eyes.

Out of spite you snap your face away and scowl even harder at him.

“I have to get home.” You snap angrily, managing to finally remove yourself from him.

“The motel houses me for the time being,” he declares from behind in the shadows.

“Unless that blonde Galahad cowboy of yours is keeping your bed warm now?” Ezra adds almost amused.

Rage bursts a furious fire in you, and it consumes you in its heated path.

“Rot in hell.” You snarl whipping back to him.

“As long as you keep me company, beautiful.” Ezra replies coy.

You’re about to curse his soul when he stomps towards you, fast and steady. His hand flings to your face, pulls you back to the shadow of the tailor shop.

He kisses you with the fierce intensity of a sudden dust storm. It even shakes your soul, spins you around, as if you were caught in an actual twister.

He tastes like the faint hints of a cigar, but something still so deliciously sinful and him. Your knees want to buckle when he easily slips his tongue inside and immediately coaxes his against yours.

You whimper, don’t even realize he’s maneuvered you to the wall of the shop, until your back gently hits the cool wood building.

It’s like your body is imprinted to his, completely answering his call, willingly and wanting to be closer to him while your hands clutch at his broad shoulders.

His body pins you firm against the building, and already he grinds his hips into you.

Then the laughter nearby bursts the bubble, snaps your attention clear.

You scramble and rapidly shove Ezra away. You don’t say another word and simply walk away.

However your lips continue to sting, as if bitten by a bee. Your hands ache empty like they’re missing the presence of his body in their grasp.

You can’t fall for this trap again.

But by the time you arrive back home, greet your aunt warmly, the lie spills from your lips before you can stop it.

“Julie wants to start the inventory sooner. So I’ll be heading back and staying over at the shop.”

Your aunt doesn’t question you, simply grins sweet and wishes you a safe trip back to town.

The sun barely sets in for the night over the horizon. The sky is a dusty blue, the softest color before bleeding into a dark midnight. The desert at night is another creature entirely. Even as you walk into town, you try to stay aware and low from any curious eyes.

The motel approaches fast. The caretaker gives you a curious look but before he can, he’s called away.

Ezra already waits for you at the top of the stairs, hidden in the shadows but still so distinct among them.

He doesn’t tease you, doesn’t even greet you. His presence seems so different with how intense he stares at you. Simply moving to intertwine his hand with yours, he guides you to his room. Inside it’s like the world melts away. It’s only you and him.

He devours you, ravenous, like trying to both make up for lost time and also feel like not a day has passed. Your hands run through his hair, knock off his cowboy hat.

You hate how badly you’ve missed this, missed him. He’s the only man your body has known, and the nights you’ve ached for him your fingers never did him justice.

When you’re bare among his bed, and his fingers slide into your wet core, you whine against his lips.

“This cunt still mine, pretty girl?” He asks mutter.

You wearily nod then all thoughts shatter when he rubs against that certain spot you can never reach. Your body crashes in a climax so shakily fast you have to catch your breath against him.

Ezra kisses the top of your head over and over.

“That’s my sweet peach,” he says in awe.

You greedily now pull him towards you, aching even more for him to be inside.

But he’s not finished with you. Ezra greed swallows your sigh before his lips move down your bare body to your core and kisses you with reverent devotion.

Your body melts into the sheets feeling his tongue trace paths among your wet cunt.

Ezra firmly calls your name. It sounds like your soul is being brought back. Wearily you sit up to see him peering up at you between your legs. Slowly he lifts himself away from your cunt, his face glistening with your arousal.

Those obsidian eyes of his blazing in the candlelight lock you in their gaze. Keeping eye contact with you he suddenly spits down to your wet aching sex, and your mind spins.

It’s obscene, you should be disgusted and horrified. You even wonder if you’ve been transported to the brothel a few ways down the road. But it feels absolutely divine especially when he does it again.

“Oh she likes this.” Ezra coo’s then presses ever the softest kiss against your soaked throbbing pearl. “This pretty little cunt, my lovely lady, ache for me huh?”

You don’t argue with him. You don’t want to. He makes you come again and a creature raw and hungry awakens in you. You claw at him, now needing him inside.

It’s like a piece of yourself returns when Ezra slides into you. It’s hot, heavy, frantic but feels sacred.

Ezra must sense it too, because he doesn’t last long. When he spills over your tummy, his hands become claws and keep you caged in his grasp. Your con artist kisses every inch of you he can.

Sweaty and tangled in him, you still feel a tinge of sadness creep in.

“You left me.” You whimper against his lips.

“And it will haunt me until my dying breath.” Ezra sighs back, his voice weighing heavy. “I was planning to come back for you, my bird. But your mother…”

She had put a bounty out on your drifter, managed to get the sheriff on her side. You knew even in your anger at Ezra leaving, it was smart of him to escape.

His hand cradles your face, and his thumb strokes your cheekbone. Those endless eyes shimmer in the low light.

“But I’m here now, pidge.” Sincerity radiates from him.

You’re now able to bask in his beauty - his gorgeous jaw, his beautiful nose, the striking streak of blonde hair that has been hidden under his hat and you’ve been dying to see.

You nuzzle your face into his palm.

“What are you doing here? Truly?” You ask.

“I told you,” Ezra says, drawing your face towards him to kiss you tender again. “I’m here to try and prove myself victorious.”

You’re not sure you believe his words.

But you end up staying with him. Early morning, before the sun reaches over the desert, his fingers trace your face waking you up.

“Dawn bathes you in her glory.” He mutters. Embarrassed at his words you burrow your face into the pillow.

He doesn’t chase you, but instead lets his fingers draw aimless shapes against your shoulder.

“There wasn’t a day where you did not occupy my mind, even after all these years.” Ezra admits low, as if he didn’t realize those words escaped him.

Slowly you turn towards him and discover those deep eyes hazed over staring at you.

“I hate you.” You tell him without any malice. In fact an emotion something very opposite of hatred soaks your words.

“I know. I’d hate me too.” Ezra agrees muttering then leans down to kiss you gingerly.

You have to leave before the town wakes up, and to seal your alibi.

With a final kiss goodbye, you head to the tailor shop.

Julie finds you in the shop when she arrives and applauds you for your diligence and wanting to get a jump start on inventory. You’re thankful the lie worked out this way. You even manage to convince her to let you finish inventory the rest of the week. Of course she happily agrees.

Ezra drops by to pick up his riding gloves and winks at you shamelessly. You roll your eyes but hate how badly you fight against a grin.

The next few days are spent between the shop and the motel. You already brace your heart for Ezra’s departure approaching once the tournament is over, but you try not to face that.

“You’ve been in a rather good mood.” Your aunt notices when you stop by to drop off goods for her.

“Thought you hated inventory.” She comments.

“Guess not.” You reply with a shrug.

This blissful cloud you’re walking in however does cloud your mind. It makes you sloppy. Instead of taking the longer path to the motel, the one that kept you away from the views of the main road and town, you walk straight into town.

Running right into Duke Williams.

He says your name bright and clear. Dread dawns on you fast.

“Haven’t seen you ‘round. Heard Julie’s got ya working extra hard.” Duke smiles.

You hate this small town and the small whispers that spread like wildfire.

You reassure Duke you’re fine and are even glad you can help Julie.

All his friends, in their sleek cowboy hats, and dusty spurs, stand off to the side snicker. They crowd around each other like an ominous pack of wolves.

One of them even calls your name.

“Might wanna enjoy this freedom while it last!” He proclaims, and your stomach twists.

The other guys snickers, shushing him playfull, and even Duke turns around to reprimand him.

“What does he mean by that?” You cautiously question.

Duke simply waves the conversation off instead offering to walk you to the tailors.

You politely decline.

“Aw come on, sweet thing like you shouldn’t be walking alone at night.” Duke smiles but even with his sweet eyes you’re reminded of a crocodile now.

“Well gentleman, that’s why i’ll accompany this lovely bird to her destination.” Emerging from the shadows Ezra grins warm.

He must have come to find you after you hadn’t shown up at the motel.

The men including Duke go eerily silent. Ezra is older than Duke and the younger men. So he holds seniority now. But besides that, Duke now seems wary, and you don’t blame him. Ezra is a man that radiates a sort of unpredictable energy.

“You sure you don’t want me to walk ya back now?” You almost appreciate the slight genuine worry leaking into Duke’s voice. But shaking your head you move to walk with Ezra by your side.

You do hate how all eyes are on you, even walking away from Duke and his mindless followers.

“Just remain calm.” Ezra mutters.

You do especially with him by your side. By the time you open the tailors you thank Ezra, worried Duke and his men are still watching.

You whisper for him to meet you behind the shop, and he does. Your swindler willingly steps into the back room with you.

“Not my ideal choice for our evening, but I do love a good change of scenery.” Ezra comments amused browsing around the storage. Playfully, you throw a ball of yarn at him.

You’re surprised he even helps you with the small bit of inventory you do.

“That young buck…” until his voice comes out low. “He’s fond of you.”

“Unfortunately.” You reply back unamused.

“Earlier at the saloon…he was boasting.” Ezra continues with the same serious tone.

“About enjoying the last days of being an unmarried man.”

That causes you to pause.

“Must mean he’s gotten over me.” You sigh, thank goodness.

“No pidge…” Ezra stops to turn towards you. “He was proclaiming how you were to be his bride.”

Your stomach drops.

You think of the way the boys just now snickered almost knowingly, and that strange comment one of themselves said -

All of it makes your stomach sick, and you have to sit down.

No. There was just no way.

“I’d never accept his proposal.” You snap out hating how badly your body feels frantic, almost skittish like a cornered road runner.

Ezra kneels before you rubbing your hand with his, a strange solid comfort.

Eventually he gathers you into his arms and calms you with soothing soft words.

“We’ll figure out a solution.”

You still don’t know if you can trust his words. But that's all you have. Your drifter stays with you overnight in the tailor shop. You even feel sinful fucking him in the back room but it’s deliciously sinfull all the same.

Sitting and resting against the work desk you fade in and out of sleep. Tender fingers brush against your fingers, ghost like. Ezra is gone by the time you wake up and Julie’s entering the shop jolts you awake.

Her eyes are frazzled.

“Did you hear? Mister Johnston’s eldest son was shot down early this morning.”

You hadn’t heard. Dread fills you fast when you realize Johnston's boy was the one who had made the joking comment to you last night.

There’s talk about postponing the competition. But others in town, especially Duke, argue to continue the tradition in a way to honor the fallen young man.

An ominous terror looms in you.

Later that night, you return to the motel. Too many thoughts swarm in your head, and Ezra even seems distant. He even slides his duster jacket one before kissing you.

“I have some personal matters to attend to, pidge. Get some respite here.”

His boots echo down the hall and then down the stairs.

You can’t sleep. So you move to slide open the window and let some of the night air in.

The faint mutter of discussion very close outside in the alleyway floats into the room.

It’s muffled at first, but once you step closer and concentrate, you pick up the very familiar cadence of a certain drifter.

“No no, I have it covered. As long as you make sure to double the bets on me tomorrow.” Ezra explains in a hush.

The others with him explain the different amounts they’ve collected, and it hits you.

He’s gambling on the competition.

That’s why he’s here.

You knew the men at the saloon often bet, but this feels heavier.

A new clicking of spurs arrives.

“Y’know, you fellas look like a dangerous bunch all here hidden in the shadows.” Duke.

Panic prickles all over your body.

“Now young buck, we’re just here partaking in a fun and friendly wager.” Ezra with his smooth talking skills deflates the tension easily.

“Waggerin’ on what?” You’re surprised Duke immediately quickly jumps in to gamble.

Ezra and the other men begin conspiring on how to make sure Duke wins to favor the odds of their bets.

“I like the sound of that.” Duke grins.

He makes a hefty wager on himself to win, the price even makes someone whistle.

They offer to place their wagers on him as well and with Ezra even in the competition, he’s argued to be an even better reassurance that the outcome falls in their favor.

Ezra even swears by this.

They’re fixing the match, going to cheat. You don’t know how to feel about any of this.

They end their discussion, and you quietly slide back into bed. Before long Ezra returns, the smell of tobacco and the cold air lingers in the room.

His fingers dance against your shoulders while your back stays to him.

“You’re only here… to make money, and cheat.” You mutter hollow.

His fingers stop.

“You overheard.”

You don’t reply to him. Ezra sighs.

“Indeed I am. But I’m no different than the gentlemen that place simple wagers on a game of horseshoe.” He explains low, under the whisper of the candle flicker.

“But it’s like you’re wanting to play with a weighted or lighter horseshoe.” You argue back.

“Is it not in our best natures to make sure Lady Luck favors us by any means possible?”

You don’t know how to reply to him.

“…I’m doing this for you, for us.” He adds.

You turn to him, your face scrunching up in fury.

“Bullshit.” You tell him.

“Believe me a liar, but I’m honest in my endeavor.” His face becomes a firm steeled frown.

You can’t look at him anymore, turning your back again to Erza in bed.

“My hope was to gain enough funds to pay for the bounty your mother placed on me, return for your hand, and make our way into a new life together.” His voice is steady.

“Unless you wish to stay here and wed that Duke.” He offers.

You whip back to glare harsh at Ezra.

There’s a silence heavy and ancient like the desert that settles between you. But it doesn’t last long before Ezra leans down and sweeps in to capture your lips

The discussion dies immediately as passion burns in its place.

You don’t think of gambling cowboys, or of your mysterious drifter, only of the moment consuming you now, and you almost pray you never leave it.

- ☾𖤓 -

Late in the night, wearily half sleep, the bed shifting jolts you awake, and you even hear the door creak open. Before you can ask Ezra if he’s alright, your eyes so sleepy flutter close for a moment. Then he’s sliding back into the warmth pulling you close into his arms. You fall right back to your dreams.

In the early hours of the morning, Ezra kisses your jaw.

“My lucky charm, are you going to observe our tournament today?” He mutters.

The competition was today.

“You nervous?” You had never seen him ride much less try ranch hand work.

“Never.” He says smoothly.

Eventually he slides out of bed and lets you get ready. But soon Ezra walks over and places something in your hands.

The pistol weighs heavy, cold. And your eyes snap open wide now fully awake.

“Why-”

He cuts you off gently. “You know how to fire, yes?”

You nod weakly.

A small smirk tugs at his handsome lips. “Figured as much, after seeing your mother.”

It’s an attempt to tease, but too much terror bubbles in you.

“I just need to know you’re protected.” Ezra reveals, but with a croak you ask why.

“Cause unfortunate as it might be, it’s even more dangerous for a criminal like me to cherish something.”

Your eyes water. There are too many questions in your head, but the day will be starting soon. You need to leave before you’re spotted.

“Tell me you have another gun.” You snap at him.

Ezra simply taps the side of his head. “Don’t need another firearm when I have this weapon.”

You angrily throw the pistol down back to the bed, refusing to take it. That’s when he snaps your name, hard and serious.

You’ve never heard his voice raise like that.

“Take it.” He grabs the firearm and hands it back to you. His midnight eyes are ominously serious with no room for argument.

His hand grabs your face firm in his hand. Your eyes search his endless midnight lake eyes.

“I call you pidge, my little pigeon bird. But I’ve known right from the start you’re a fierce creature. Don’t ever forget that.”

Ezra’s words are beautiful but barbed. They rip up tracks in your heart. He kisses you quick, fierce and short. You hate how it feels like a goodbye.

With shaking hands and confusion, you slide the gun into your satchel. You walk back to your aunt's cabin in a daze. So much so that you barely notice she’s already awake when you sneak back in.

“You have fun at the motel again?” She asks, and fear freezes you.

“I wasn’t-”

“Mac, your uncle’s good friend, gave me the heads up.” She cuts you off softly.

Mac, the innkeeper. God damn this small town. Venom, anger, indignation, they all swirl violently in you.

“Whatever you’re doing there, you’re only gonna find danger.” She says somber, and you stay quiet.

Your aunt sighs.

“You’re lucky this hasn’t gotten out yet. What would young Duke say if he found out?”

Frustration bursts in you, and you snap furious about why would you even need to care about that man’s opinion of you.

“Because he plans on weddin’ you, and I plan on letting him.” Your aunt fires back and her words shoot right through you.

Your legs feel like they’re about to give out, even have to steady yourself against the nearby chair.

You thought your aunt understood. She’s been alone, a widow since she was around your age, longer than your mother had been a widow. You thought she’d never fall into the trap of forcing marriage.

“It’s for your own good.” She argues, watery urgent m. “You need protection, a home, a husband to provide for you.”

You rush out of the house even ignoring the screams from your aunt.

You’d have to think of a plan fast. Maybe leave with Ezra once the competition ends today. It’s all too much. You swallow back a sob and walk back into town.

The competition was today after all.

The day at the shop is very short. Julie doesn’t even notice your somber atmosphere as she’s completely caught up in the excitement of this day. So many more wagons stretch around the edge of town.

Pecos flutters alive with life.

But there’s already commotion, a dangerous kind that chokes the competition tense.

Duke yells loud and furious. The sheriff along with his deputies are nearby. Thankfully you spot Martha and quickly move to ask her what’s going on.

“Duke’s horse is missing.” She whispers.

From what Martha says, when Duke went to the stables this morning the gate was open and his horse was nowhere to be seen. His trusty companion, you even knew how serious an issue this is.

“Well young buck, if you’re that upset then maybe you shouldn’t partake in the festivities.” Ezra, out of thin air, offers.

He looks confident as he strolls up.

“Or you simply ride with another mare?” He proposes with a coy optimism.

“Fuck you!” Duke snaps at Ezra and even looks as if he’s going to lunge.

Your heart hammers hard in your chest. Thankfully the sheriff settles the commotion down.

Angered but stubborn, Duke declares he’s staying to compete and will simply use another horse. He is favored to win after all.

Other cowboys from out of town have blown in like packs of tumbleweed. So many of them are excited to participate and try their hand at showing off their rancher skills

Some are good.

But it is Ezra who proves to be the dark horse, the surprise underdog.

Watching him on his stallion, your throat goes dry seeing how effortless and strong he manages his horse. You never knew he could ride. The way he maneuvers and stays a quiet presence, he reminds you of an outlaw.

“Moves like a bandit.” Someone in the crowd even whispers.

His rope throwing skills however surprise everyone, including yourself. The calf he manages to wrangle takes you by shock. A dangerous lust slithers over your body watching him wrangle the animal with his strength and sturdy form.

But you realize -

This wasn’t what had been planned. From the discussion given last night, Ezra was meant to perform poorly to make sure Duke did better.

But this is exactly the opposite.

He’s the lead runner for champion of the competition.

And then Duke’s turn arrives. The crowd mummers curious, on edge waiting for the favored cowboy to make his move.

The horse he uses is not cooperative. Duke screams, unable to hide his frustration in wrangling the creature.

But once he stabilizes a manageable ride, he goes to lasso the calf. His rope lands and the crowd cheers. He’s already faster than Ezra.

Until the frayed rope snaps and the calf yanks itself free.

The crowd gasps.

It’s not an immediate disqualification, but it doesn’t look good. Duke argues that his rope was frayed and that someone must have slowly started cutting at it. However it’s a long shot argument. There’s no way to prove that and even the sheriff seems a little wary of the accusation.

“That’s just the way rope is son, you just gotta keep an eye on it.”

Duke screams in anguish canyon splitting anger. You’ve never once seen him like this. It’s like it’s a whole new man, or maybe, his true self being revealed.

He’s offered another rope, but it’s almost horrifying to watch that one as well snap. The crowd again gasps.

This wasn’t the outcome meant to happen.

“Duke’s cursed.” Someone mumbles.

The crowd is in disbelief, you even are. The last remaining competitors try their luck, but none can beat Ezra’s speed.

You can’t believe it. But he won.

And Duke is livid. The crowd tentatively applauds Ezra’s win because of the somber mood clashing.

“You bastard! You goddamn cheated!” Duke screams at Ezra while the deputies try settling him down.

“Poor boy,” Ezra says sympathetically before turning to find you in the crowd.

There’s a gleam of something proud shimmering in his dark eyes.

You don’t question it, don’t want to.

Ezra truly is a man of many facets, dangerous ones, like looking at a raw gemstone that could cut your fingers.

The competition spills into the nearby saloons, and the festivities only seem to intensify as the sun starts setting. You can’t even reach Ezra from the groups swirling around him and want to get as far away from Duke as possible.

So you return back to the tailor shop. Julie urges you to join her and the other women at the mayor’s large property, but you decline.

You simply sit in the store trying to muster up a plan. But in a blink, the night arrives and you have to find Ezra.

So after locking up the shop, you head to the motel.

Until the sound of Duke’s screaming and the rage of violence roars nearby.

You freeze, terrified.

Until someone wearily coughs. “That’s what ya get for gamblin’ with bandits, boy.”

Your swindler’s distinct twang drawls smug and now your body rushes to the secluded alleyway.

You swallow back a scream at the sight you stumble upon. Duke with blood fists has Ezra pinned against the wall, like a mythological creature, terrifying and large looking over with violence in his wake.

Ezra’s face is bloody and one of his arms even hangs limp.

“Pidge.” He coughs, and your heart aches.

Duke whips around to see you and barks for you to leave.

Shakily you snatch down to your bag, and whip out the gun to point it to him. Duke’s face falls a bit confused.

“Honey this man wronged me, I’m only enacting my justice.” He argues.

You snap at him to let Ezra go or else.

That’s when a sinister evil darkens Duke’s golden boy face.

“So, ya little god damn whore…you’re workin’ with this man aren’t ya? I knew I should’ve listened to all the rumors about a slut like you.” He spits with venom leaking from his voice.

“Don’t you touch her.” Ezra snarls, but Duke pays him no mind keeping his sinister eyes on you.

“What?” Duke slowly mutters. “Do ya really think you’re gonna shoot me?”

Tears fill your eyes. You don’t want to, but the way your heart races like a terrified Jack rabbit it screams at you to flee. But… you also wonder if your heart races because it’s urging you to attack, to bare your fangs.

Instead of releasing Ezra, Duke moves to grip his coat harder. He slams your drifter hard and fast against the wall. A painful crack-like smack comes, and you scream.

You fire the gun instantly.

Duke blinks, you even wonder if you landed a hit.

Until deep dark crimson, almost the color of dark sludge, leaks across Duke’s side. He crumbles like a fall leaf.

You cry scrambling to Ezra who thankfully is still standing. Duke wheezes out obscenities and even tries hollering for help. You’re however too worried about Ezra.

“M’fine,” your drifter reassures with a wheeze.

“Hand me the gun, dearest.” Ezra somberly mutters. When you do, without hesitation Ezra fires the gun point black down at Duke. And your eyes shut hearing the pistol strike. Duke goes quiet and stays silent.

“Come on, we gotta hurry.” Ezra urges.

Supporting his body, you manage to get him into the tailor shop to tend to his wounds.

Ezra coughs out your name. “M’dearest, I need to make my escape out of town once more.” His breathing his heaved, he needs to rest.

“Don’t leave me.” You cry sharp, unable to focus on anything now.

His hand slides to your face and he cradles you tenderly. You clutch at his wrist as you blink back tears starting at him now.

“It will not be a pleasant life, staying with a devil like me.” He mumbles.

Doesn't he realize, you’re just as tarnished as him now? Blood is on your hands. You simply turn to kiss the palm of his hand feeling more reassured than ever.

“I’d rather be with the devil than live without him.” You speak soft into his skin while tears dry on your cheeks.

He barks a hollow but watery thick laugh as he says your name. “You foolish bird, my lovely dangerous creature.”

The desert is unforgiving to those who do now learn to grow fangs or become just as fierce as its landscape. You wonder if that’s what has become of you. But you don’t question it. You simply gather all you can, steal one of the horses from the saloon and keep Ezra close to you on the saddle.

If Ezra is a devil, then you’re grateful he saved you from your hell. And for him, you will gladly stain your soul.

Under the eternal eyes of the desert, you wander into the night keeping your bandit close to you.

In the distance a lone coyote howls aching at the moon.

You don’t look back once.