#it’s 1am and i’m weak ok

[lesilence]

the idea of henry sitting in eddie’s place at the falcone and eddie ain’t having it so he just sits right next to him and pushes him out, making it so they’re just awkwardly sitting right next to each other because both of them are too stubborn to move now

[heartlogan]

all coming back to me

✮— logan x f!reader (set in x-men days of future past)

✮— summary: logan didn’t realise you would be here in the past. all that follows.

✮— a/n: first time writing for logan / the xmen films, be gentle pls. also wrote this in like 20 mins at 1am so kindness pls. ok goodnight.

✮— warnings: character death, major character death, (mentioned mostly, not the most graphic depictions), logan’s relentless guilt, reader’s insensitive curiosity, muddled timeline maybe idk, mutant reader (unmentioned power) , kind of abrupt ending , lmk if there’s more!

MASTERLIST

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When Logan had realised he was the only viable candidate to do this job, he had felt the immense weight on his shoulders, had known that he had no choice but to succeed. He had been prepared for that part, mostly. But even still, the plan was sudden, and he hadn’t thought most things through. After all, Logan was more of a fight now, think later type of guy.

So waking up in some random woman’s waterbed was unexpected, yes, but even more unexpected was the bone cutting through his skin when he had to face those goons. It had been so long since the adamantium had been melded to his skeleton, that he could almost forget it hadn’t always been that way. If it weren’t for the pain that still haunted his every nightmare, that was.

It was an adjustment, definitely, especially because it had been so long since he hadn’t felt completely indestructible — untouchable. There was no metal safety net, here.

Seeing Xavier’s school falling apart was certainly an adjustment, too.

He had known this school only in its prime, when Charles had already formed the X-Men, had already settled many kids into their new home. Logan couldn’t ever imagine this place being so devoid of life.

“Can I help you?” A young man asked, after a few silent moments of Logan waiting for the door to be answered. He sounded vaguely familiar.

“Uh… yeah, what happened to the school?” Logan asked, eyebrows raised as his eyes trailed over the vines crawling up the building, the dust coating the glass.

The man’s eyebrows furrowed, looking at Logan strangely before he decided to speak. “The school’s been shut for years. Are you a parent?”

Logan scoffed. “I sure as hell hope not. Who are you?”

“I’m Hank. Hank McCoy. I look after the house now.”

He’s doing a great job at that, Logan thought to himself, surveying the damaged grounds, before he clocked on to what the man had introduced himself as. He squinted at the small stature of the guy, half hidden by the door he was pressing himself into the gap of.

“You’re Beast? Look at you,” Logan commented idly, “Guess you’re a late bloomer.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hank warned, features hardening instantly at the name he hadn’t heard for a long time. “But I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

The man started closing the door in Logan’s face, not expecting him to shove himself against it, keeping it open. They strained, muscles tensing on both sides, before Logan inevitably won without Hank’s extra strength that accompanied his transformation.

“Where’s the professor?”

“There’s no professor here.” Hank responded, before Logan soon managed to shove the door open, flinging him back.

“Professor!” Logan yelled into the empty house, hearing his voice rebound off of the walls. The echoing made him uncomfortable, and seeing the house that had been destroyed so long ago in his time was odd. It was familiar, and yet so different. Logan wasn’t sure he could ever get used to the empty manor, despite his many complaints about the kids at the school.

The moment Logan began to ascend the stairs of the manor, Hank leapt at him, freshly transformed. Logan was momentarily shocked by the appearance of his blue fur, but he quickly got over it, defending himself from Hank’s admittedly rather weak attack. The Beast managed to stun him, tackling him onto a table in the middle of the foyer, while the blue man hung from the chandelier above.

“Hank?” A voice called out, confused and slightly concerned. “What’s going on here?” He asked, descending the stairs and squinting down at the vaguely familiar man on top of his table.

“Professor?” Logan asked, surprised, sitting up on the table to make sure he was seeing things right.

“He doesn’t like to be called that.” A new voice said, coming from Logan’s left, and he startled, head whipping towards where you were standing. You were leant against the doorway, arms folded across your chest as you watched the situation unfold with unhidden entertainment.

His heart practically stops.

He hadn’t seen you for almost three years. Three very long, very difficult years.

Logan didn’t even want to think about the last time he had seen you. It had been one of the worst days of his life to date, and he’d had a lot of bad days. And yet, here you were, alive. Trying to tamp down your amusement, though it was written clearly on your face, evident in the slight curve of a smile that he had missed.

“You know this guy?” Hank asked Charles, who made his way down the rest of the stairs while Logan only continued to stare at you.

Charles looked at Logan with a vague sense of recognition. “Yeah, he looks slightly familiar.” He commented distantly, already appearing completely checked out of the situation. “Get off the bloody chandelier, Hank.”

The sound of the glass above him clinking together brought Logan to his senses, reminded him that he had a job to do. And no matter how much he had missed you, your presence couldn’t get in the way of that.

“You can walk.” Logan stated, checking back into the conversation with shock still darting down his spine. He watched the Professor carefully, brows furrowed in thought.

“And you’re perceptive.” Charles replied dryly, “Which makes it slightly perplexing that you missed our sign on the way in. This is private property, my friend. I’m going to have to ask him to ask you to leave.” He said, nodding towards Hank who stared between the two men as if watching some sort of tennis match. He looked uncomfortable with the confrontation occurring. “Or her, if you’re more inclined.”

You raised your brows.

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Logan didn’t end up leaving, much to your surprise. It had been a long time since anyone had managed to get Charles to do anything he didn’t want to do. Hell, it had been a long time since anyone had managed to speak to the man, save for you and Hank. He turned everybody away, never heard anyone out, no matter how desperate they sounded.

Instead, Charles seemed to accept the fact that this man was from the future. A future which sounded dire, by the way.

And if his glance towards you when he had spoken about watching good people, friends, die, told you anything, it was that you didn’t make it very far in the future. Which didn’t faze you all too much. It didn’t sound like much of a future for those who lived, anyway. But that knowledge had taught you something about this Logan. He had cared for you, some years from now.

It was as clear as day. He looked at you like he had been missing you, like he was greeting you at the airport after a long trip. He seemed to think he was being discreet about it, always glancing away when you turned to him, but you were observant.

You sidled up next to him while Hank went on the hunt for the phone book, and Charles wandered off to regret his decision.

“So, how’d I die?” You asked, feeling bad but also slightly amused when Logan practically choked on air.

“What? How did you—”

“Oh, please. It’s all over your face. I may not know you, but I can see that much.” You responded, cutting him off and watching the cogs turn in his head.

You had always had a strange way of reading him better than anyone else. Not that this version of you knew that, but Logan did. It made his chest ache all the more, feeling like you were so close to being in his grasp, and yet so far away from him. He had to remind himself that you didn’t know him, and he didn’t exactly know this version of you.

You seemed… not happier, exactly, but something was different. Perhaps you had suffered less at this point in your life. He had met you in one of the most difficult times you had ever been through, and it was strange to see you without the baggage that had followed you from that.

“I’m that transparent, huh?” He replied, going quiet soon after. He didn’t want to talk about this with you. With anyone. He didn’t want to relive that moment any more than he already did. He saw it every time he closed his eyes, every time the Sentinels had approached in the future.

“You are.” You paused. “So? What happened?”

“You don’t want to know about this, kid.” Logan stated, pointedly not looking at you. You were so young now, and he missed the lines on your face. This wasn’t the you that he knew or loved. He didn’t know this version of you. And you certainly didn’t know him.

Logan had the fate of the world resting on his shoulders, the fate of every mutant and human who had the decency to be kind towards them. Your fate. The fate of everyone else he had lost. He couldn’t get caught up in this, in seeing you here, as much as he wanted to soak in the sound of your voice, the colour of your eyes, the glow of your skin.

“Why not? We’re going to save the world anyway. It can’t hurt.” You said innocently, regretting the latter part of your statement the moment you realised how it came across, how Logan’s face creased.

He wanted to appreciate your optimism, mostly because he knew how much of it you had lost by the time you died, but you couldn’t understand. It did hurt. Logan had watched you die in front of his very eyes, his adamantium and courage powerless to stop it. He had been dragged back to the jet, forced to leave your body there to rot, or to be taken and experimented on. He didn’t know which was worse.

Even now, he could feel the pressure on his chest from Storm pushing against him, the pain of Magneto pulling at his skeleton, forcing him to leave you behind.

He swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat, eyes flickered across the room, never quite landing on you. It hurt him every day. He could feel the weight of your loss even now, knowing that if he failed to do this, you were lost. This version of you, the one who had so much suffering to come, would die at the hands of a Sentinel, and he would be powerless to stop it.

“Sorry,” You said, when the silence stretched on, Logan seemingly getting lost in his own thoughts. You could see the pain written across his face, could see him getting distant, reliving whatever had happened in the future. “That was insensitive. I was curious, but it doesn’t matter. You’re here to save us all. And I’m here to help this time.”

He finally looked at you, and you could see the exhaustion on his face. Perhaps putting more pressure on him wasn’t the best idea.

“Okay, I’m messing this up,” You admittedly, fidgeting nervously now, eyes flickering between him and the door as if expecting Charles or Hank to walk in on you embarrassing yourself. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no,” Logan paused, apparently trying to find his words. “You don’t need t’be sorry. None of this is your fault.”

You looked at him, seeing him more clearly then. You didn’t know his past, and you certainly didn’t know the future, but this man cared about you. That much was obvious. “It’s not yours either, you know.” You said, and the slight grimace he made didn’t escape you. He clearly didn’t agree. “However we know each other in the future, it can’t change the fact that I am an adult. I would never expect you to take responsibility for me dying. Or want you to! I take care of myself.”

He blinked at you. “We were meant to take care of each other.”

You faltered slightly at that, struggling to imagine yourself relying on someone that much, but then you understood.

“Isn’t that what you’re doing now? You’re here, fifty years into the past, trying to make things right. The war wasn’t your fault, Logan.”

Despite knowing that was true, it still didn’t quite dislodge the guilt that pulsed in his chest. He felt more vulnerable here, without his adamantium. With your prying eyes. Even now, it appeared that you saw him in a way nobody else ever could.

“You know what? This might be totally inappropriate, but…” You trailed off, and he had just opened his mouth to question you when suddenly you were wrapping your arms around his neck, squeezing him close in a way that finally let him breathe again.

His hands hung idly by his sides for a few moments, before finally wrapping around you, holding you tight. He seemed as though he may never let you go, but you could understand that. Logan was in pain, and it seemed that despite your slight uncertainty, this had been a good path to go down. Taking care of one another, or something like that, right?

A heavy sigh left his chest, and you squeezed him tighter, letting out a short breath into his neck. You only pulled away when you heard Hank’s footsteps creaking on the aged floorboards, heading your way. Logan let you go, with much reluctance, but you lingered. Your arm brushed against his jacket.

If Hank noticed anything, he didn’t say a word, simply holding up the phone book victoriously. You glanced at Logan, watching the creases slowly come back to his face as he was reminded of his burden once more. You leaned against him the slightest bit, and pretended not to notice him glance at you.

This would all work out, you were certain of it. And if it didn’t, well, at the very least there was something to look forward to in that bleak future. Logan seemed worth the pain.

[imtheworst-imsorry]

ok so the plan for tomorrow (technically later today bc it’s 1am but i don’t count it as “tomorrow” until after i’ve gone to sleep) is to get up, take care of my dog, go to michael’s for art supplies for my final project, stop at the vet’s office on the way back to get henry’s probiotic, work on the writing part of my project, clean my bong bc it’s SO GROSS while i’m taking breaks from the school stuff, and then once i feel like i’ve got a good amount of the academic bits done for the day i’m gonna smoke up bc it’s 4/20 and then maybe work on some of the art parts bc i can melt crayons and shit while i’m stoned. and my parents are gonna be out most of the day again so i can just vibe and eat as little as possible again, it’ll prob be less than today even bc i finished the last of the strawberries with yogurt today so now i can’t have more of that, if i can last until evening on nothing or almost nothing i’ll either eat smth small for dinner or skip it and just have a snack with my parents when they get home from visiting my mom’s cousin. i was at 200 calories exactly for the day but then we made popcorn when my dad got home and popcorn is seriously one of my greatest weaknesses and then to even out the numbers (thanks ocd) i had a little chocolate. but i’m still ok with my total for the day being 500 bc it would have been more if i’d actually eaten dinner. idk whether to be happy or worried that i’m like genuinely not hungry almost at all anymore, it makes it easier to eat less but it’s also probably objectively not a good thing health-wise, not that i really care about being healthy bc hello, ed, and also there’s so much about my stupid shitty body that also doesn’t work the way it’s supposed to it’s not like this is even remotely the biggest problem i have rn. i am getting worried about how often my chest hurts tho, like not an asthma chest tightness thing, and not a shooting heart attack sounding pain, just this ache-y almost stiff feeling, like if you hadn’t been able to bend a stiff joint for a long time and then once you could again it just feels Off, idk. probably not good, but i’m so close to the end of the semester and so close to my goals i’m not gonna do anything about it unless it turns into an emergency sort of situation

[gayferret420]

First time writing a fic on tumblr! TW for almost smut but though it doesn't happen? Oh and kinky shit like a shock collar. [Idk why I wrote this either it was 1am and looking at it now I’m very confused]

“What do you want, Riley? Do you want me to tie you up and fuck you stupid? Do you want me to gag you? Do you want me to blindfold you? What do you want me to do to you?” Chase said in that sultry tone that always made Riley go weak in the knees. All those options sounded amazing, but Riley didn't have a choice. He knew he didn't have a choice. It was part of the facade so to speak, er, a scene as Chase called it. Riley was still pretty new to this.

“Y-You.” Riley knew what he wanted. He wanted to be used. He wanted to be treated like a toy and fucked without care.

“Me?” Chase exhaled sharply through his nose. “I think I can give you that.” He sauntered on all fours across the bed towards Riley, swaying his hips back and forth. “But first…” Once Chase finally got to his lover, he looked like a predator stalking his prey. And by God was Riley ready to be devoured. “A question.”

“Ye-Yeah? What's up?”

“What’s the safeword?”

Riley threw his head back and groaned. Any arousal he had was zapped. “Really? Do you always have to ask me that? We both know I want it-”

“Just because you want it now doesn't mean you’ll want it when we’re doing it!”

“But I never use it!”

“Good! You using it is not a good thing! It means something went wrong! I’m not touching you until you understand why safewords are important.”

“Fine! The safeword is dresser. Now can we please have sex already?”

“No.”

“What? But I said the-”

“Yes, but you don't understand why we have one. Like I said, I’m not touching you until you understand why it's important.”

“What are you gonna do, put me through BDSM school? Make me write an essay on why I need a safeword?”

Chase looked as if he was contemplating it. “Maybe, yeah. Not the essay thing, but teaching you about consent and stuff? Yeah, that could work.”

“What? No, I was joking-” “And I'm not! Knowing about good BDSM etiquette is necessary if you ever try to do this with someone else!”

“That implies that there's gonna be a someone other than you.” “Ok, Riley, that's very cute, now let me get the whiteboard.”

“The whiteboard????”

“Yeah! Need a whiteboard to teach you properly. Hey, speaking of consent, you ok with shock collars?”

Their conversation taking such a 180 made Riley’s head spin. “Oh! Um, that sounds…fuck.” Riley’s mouth went dry just thinking about it. “Yeah, that sounds good. But what happened to not touching me?”

“I’m not touching you, the collar is. Now lemme get my stuff.”

“…Alright.”

A couple of minutes pass before Chase comes back. He was wearing a white button-up shirt with black suit pants, clearly very into the teacher role already. He was also holding the whiteboard and shock collar that he was talking about earlier. He put the collar around Riley’s neck, making excitement and a bit of fear pool in his gut.

“Alrighty then, you’re all set. And Riley?”

“Yes?”

“What’s the safeword?”

—————————————————————————-

why the ass did I write this -morning me

[kisskawa]

— cross your heart cw hospital setting, patients mention

yuta thinks he’s fucked up. he knows he’s fucked up.

but you were looking at him with those big, sad eyes and he couldn’t bear being the one who made them that way, all dull and disheartened.

he knew you were biting back your words, a tiny protest of “but it’s date night” never quite making it out. he could almost see how you stifled them back down your throat as your smile wobbled, encouraging him instead to “be safe and come home soon, ok?” and so, he swore a continuation in two days when he returned from the interrupting mission.

promise is a word okkotsu can’t afford, not in his line of work. but the smile you’d given him, light returning to your features in a heartbeat, had been enough for okkotsu to look over his thoughtless words, his mistake.

the call he’d gotten had made it sound easy enough - a grade two curse that had taken refuge in a local hospital, more of an annoyance than anything.

except, against all regulations, the hospital hadn’t been evacuated.

the curse had blistered through hallways, feeding on the weak and caring little for their unstable conditions. it would’ve been difficult to move them, okkotsu recognised as he peered into dark rooms, cruel even. all blipping heart rates and blinking lights, uv bag drips and unsteady breaths. there was little there that couldn’t be called curse bait.

it had taken okkotsu a careful trap to exorcise the curse properly, forced to corner it in a newly idle wing where monitors rang with piercing cries and alarms flashed in urgency. okkotsu preferred the silence.

and all that meticulous preparation and planning had led to success. exhausting and tedious, but a success nonetheless. the curse had been sliced through with a swing of okkotsu’s charged katana, no longer able to capture any more victims.

paperwork be damned, okkotsu had rushed away the moment he had deemed his mission finished. his body was sluggish, covered in grazes and cuts and debris and grime, but none of that mattered as he sought to get back home, to get back to you.

there’d been little traffic at that time of night, but that had done little to soothe okkotsu’s nerves, jaw clenching as his fingers tapped an anxious melody. the steady flow of late night radio hardly registered, dissipating into the air as okkotsu shot nervous glances at the clock.

00:28 blinked back at him, utterly and devastatingly mocking as it turned to 00:29.

okkotsu was officially twenty nine minutes late to your postponed date and he could only picture your face, eyes bleak and disappointed, though you’d feign a smile and whisper, “’s’ok, i’m not mad.” you should be, okkotsu thought miserably.

it’s at 00:53 that yuta finally stumbles back into your flat, nearer to 1am than midnight, and you’re still not angry.

wrapped up in a too big jumper that yuta remembers losing two months ago and swaddled in a blanket thats starting to fray at the edges, you’re waiting at the door. nursing a cup thats long since been emptied, it’s obvious you’d watched the hours pass by, tick by tick by tick of the clock.

you take yuta’s surprise as a chance to jump at him, one arm looping around his neck and the other spreading across the expanse of his shoulders. all part of an attempt to get him closer to you.

yuta lets relief flood his systems, spilling out of him as he smiles widely, lips catching on the skin of your neck. his breath expels in a shaky, happy exhale and his words soon follow after: “i’m sorry i’m late, i’m so so sorry.”

at your silence, yuta gathers up all his willpower to pry himself from your hold. instead, cupping your face with tender hands, palms rough from the night of work as his thumb brushes over your cheek.

the heat starts to prick at your eyes before you can stop it. it’s fiery hot and it makes water pool by your lashes. and yet, still, you’re anything but angry as the frustrated tears slip down your face, waiting to sink into yuta’s hands.

“i was worried about you,” you murmur, voice tiny as you begin to deflate, “just really worried.” your admission has you feeling silly and small, held up entirely by yuta’s hold as a little, watery laugh escapes you. 

yuta looks at you, sheepish though the very picture of lovely, and thinks he must be the luckiest man in the world. he lets out a laugh of his own, overwhelmed by the beat of his heart and the love in his chest as you sink ever further into his touch.

another promise drops his lips before he can help it, “i’ll look after myself, i swear. i’ll look after myself for you.”

[valkyrayn]

horny brainrot to join the other anons after seeing that R Card for Marius’ 2nd bday like ok SIR?? I haven’t seen the PV yet but already know I’m gonna whale for this man when he’s out on global bringing me out of my ToT burnout. also it’s like 8 am where I’m at sending this Marius have mercy on me for giving me horny thoughts.

BUT ANYWAYS that’s besides the point~ seeing him with that cute lil mullet and ponytail and holy abs imaginin’ y’all did the deed last night and waking up to him tryna get ready for uni and he just looks like a smug lil’ shit knowing he’s teasing you with his open shirt. He borderline finds it cute how you’re tangled up in his sheets still naked and you just look so tempting to ravish again when you blush under his gaze~ he just loves you so much seeing you all vulnerable in his bed just sets alight his primal instincts bc yes Marius breeding kink head-canon I’m all for it 😩 much to your complains, y’all end up going for a quickie and your cute breathy moans just fuel him to fuck you harder and faster, abusing your already sensitive cunt as you’re tugging on his hair that has him abruptly releasing his seed into you, and filling you up absolutely full. let’s say you and Marius were almost late for class and if your legs weren’t already weak from the night before they certainly are now as you struggle to walk around campus and sitting still in your seat feeling his cum leaking in your panties as a tell-tale reminder after the both of you half-hazardly cleaned up to rush to your lectures. And if you’re wearing a skirt it certainly doesn’t help that your thighs are feeling a little sticky. Marius is definitely in need of a scolding or some punishment for the little stunt he pulled~ or so you’d like to think, because whenever you’d try to lecture him it would always backfire bc what Marius wants Marius gets 👀 he’s such a brat I love him. I hope this wasn’t bad and you enjoyed food for thought 😈~~

anon im (s)creaming at this what the fuck omg this was so good??!?!?!? THANK YOU FOR FEEDING ME THIS BRAINROT

i have nothing but filthy horny thoughts of marius in that ponytail. that combined with him fucking us AND breeding us?? this hits all the spot omfg. tugging on his hair as he rails us?? i can’t breathe. this made me scream into my pillow. this was such a great and filthy bedtime story cus it’s like 1am for me here ilysm anon <3

keep feeding me pls 🥵

[geocookie21]

Sick

I am sick and miserable today and have been feeling needy for Master fics. Also Thirteen fics but let’s start with Master. Dhawan!master to be exact.

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Lying in bed, not able to get comfortable AT ALL and being stuffy is not how you expected this weekend to go.

When the Master dropped you off on Thursday morning you had felt a little run down, with a cough every so often, nothing like this. No, last night, around 1am Saturday morning, your nose decided to get blocked and stay that way no matter how many times you blew it. You felt warm, clammy and uncomfortable no matter what you did. Sniffling and coughing, rubbing your nose and scratching your eyes….you were miserable. And it only got worse as the day went on. Cold medicine on goes so far.

The one thing you wanted? Not really a thing, but a who. You wanted The Master. You didn’t tell him you were sick and you don’t think he noticed when he dropped you off. Why would he notice a total of 3 coughs in the space of several hours anyway? You were home when your illness got worse, thankfully.

You never wanted to seem weak to him, your human so you know what he thinks of your race anyway. You didn’t want to give him an excuse to criticise you further. Not while your sick. Luckily he was away and left you here to fulfil his evil plan. Probably blowing up a planet.

Eyes closed and laughing mentally at the image of the master enjoying himself like a child on Christmas, you failed to hear the low hum of a TARDIS landing (with its breaks off until they are actually needed)

Kicking the blanket off of yourself while coughing meant to missed the sound of TARDIS doors opening. Eyes remaining closed so you didn’t see the extra person in the room. You were glad the Master wasn’t here to see you so miserable and weak. Sure that he’d leave you here forever if he saw you.

Mental energy spent, thinking of the Master, left you falling asleep. Unaware that the extra person in the room was walking slowly towards you. Concern written all over his expression. Now only skirting the edge of consciousness, you felt the cool hand that had placed itself on your forehead. You whines as you leaned your face into it more, trying to cool yourself down. Feeling somehow safe enough not to question the hands origins.

Though you heard it, you weren’t nearly awake enough to hear the concern in the spoken “Foolish human. What have you done to yourself” and you DEFINITELY didn’t notice the gentle hand moving your position to a more comfortable one. Not scrunched up into a ball out of self pity. The cooling hand removed itself, much to your semi-conscious whining, to bring your blanket around you.

The sound of footsteps led to quiet for a minute or two, in which time you had fallen asleep.

The Master returned to your side with a cooling cloth for your forehead and some cold medicine. He had seen what you were taking and threw it out of the window. “It’s not good enough for my human. She needs to be better right now!”

He brought his, Human safe, alien cold medicine to your bedside, he’d have to wait till you woke up so he could monitor you and make sure it works to his liking. Running a mental checklist, his thought halted when you started murmuring. He leaned in closer to hear you, if you were in pain he would wake up up and give you the medicine now. He wasn’t counting on hearing you call out for him. “Master….where” His cold heart melted. Actually melted, his whole expression melted.

“I want…I want master” he couldn’t hold back any longer, you called out for him. You NEEDED him. And he’d be DAMNED if he wasn’t going to be there for his little human when she was so weakly calling out for him. So he climbed into bed next to you and held your head to his heart. Knowing you found comfort in his double heart beat.

It was only an hour later that you roused. Eyes remained closed, you felt where you were. Comfortable beyond belief and mentally subdued, you didn’t quite notice the other presence. Until you coughed. A comforting hand fell to your back, rubbing it up and down and patting you slightly. Another hand with a handkerchief slightly in front of your mouth.

Catching your breath, you opened your eyes. Seeing a chest with a familiar purple vest. (RHYMES!😂) Listening to your surroundings you could hear soft spoken words. “It’s ok love, breath” “hush now, I have you” “easy now. Breathing in a familiar after shave and feeling HIS hand stroking your back you finally looked up to his face.

Dark chocolate eyes locked to yours. Hypnotic intensity keeping you captive as you struggled to regain your breathing. The Master was here, seeing you sick and weak. Your soft whine and small struggle against him caused him to frown a little. ‘Why is she scared of me? What’s wrong?’ He thought he had hurt you. He would never hurt his little human.

“Sh..shh..shh what’s wrong? It’s ok, I’ve got you little one” his soft spoken words calmed you to a stop. Yet you still whined and hid your face.

“Come now, tell your Master. Let me take care of my human” your hand reaching towards his second heart and grabbing at his shirt, a move you only did when you felt small and nervous.

Aided by his soft commands, you found the strength to speak. I say you found it, it was his strength, you only submitted to it. “I’m weak. I’m weaker than normal and you’re going to leave me” chocking on a sob before you finished your sentence.

Widening eyes at your tears led to a coo of comfort from your master. His own human, thinking herself weak? How could the universe be so cruel. “Love, even I get sick. After a regeneration I need a day or two before I can even stand! And to think you were looking after yourself before I came back. You are not weak, little human. And I am never leaving you here.” bloodshot eyes met chocolate at his reassurance. And unspoken promise of safety and belonging. Silent negotiations came to an end with the Master reaching for the cold medicine, determined to cure his human. “Open for me love. This will help” his own mouth opening slightly to encourage you. Not that you needed much encouragement, you trusted him not to poison you. “So obedient. Good girl. You’ve earned a reward” despite the redness, your eyes began to glow with joy.

He leaned back, pulling you with him. Curling up to him with a gentle hum, your heavy eyelids still locked to your Masters face, eager to hear your reward. A pleased smile crossed the Masters expression, speaking soft as to not rouse you from your sleepy state. “There’s a planet, with a pink sunset that lasts 54 hours. Mountains made of rocks so soft, they may as well be pillows. Air so clear that your lungs feel brand new. You’ve done so well to take care of yourself. Next time, however, you call me. Let Master take care of you now. I know better ways to make my human well again. So rest, Master has you now”

You couldn’t tell is he had actually hypnotised you to sleep, or if you were really tired from your cold. But his voice lulled you to a comfortable sleep. Safe with the knowledge that your Master would take care of you. And he was never going to leave you.



[bonktime]

Take a Breath

Ezra (Prospect) x AFAB!reader Oneshot (no use of y/n)

Masterlist

Rated: Explicit

Summary: Your ship has crashed on a planet with low oxygen. With no other options you begin a tenuous partnership with a strange prospector in need of your help fixing his pod. He’s charming but dangerous and if he finds out the whole truth about you, you’ll probably end up dead. With trouble closing in from all sides, you navigate this new connection and hope you both survive in one piece.

Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of violence, blood and death, mentions of religion, sexual harassment (just a couple comments), me having no clue what asphyxiating is actually like, Two has a clear helmet for plot reasons, smut: unprotected PinV sex (there’s no STDs in space), cunnilingus, dom/sub elements, rough sex, size kink, choking (just a little), spitting, praise kink (this one surprised me), biting, a little dirty talk (it is Ezra) - let me know if I’ve missed anything!

Note: I was totally inspired to create this by @jura-moon​ ‘s fic Nostromo which lives in my head and without it, this never would have been written. I have used some of her story beats and ideas so absolute credit goes to her for that. This is sort of a fanfic of Nostromo in many ways 💘 I’d also like to throw thanks at @absurdthirst who reawakened my love of fics, @slater-baby who awoke something in me specifically, and especially to @danniburgh who not only deals with my damn near weekly requests for softness but who also got me to stop editing at 1am whilst drinking tequila. She did us all a favour, let’s be honest.

I hope everyone enjoys this behemoth. Don’t forget to reblog!

Wordcount: 22k

~~~~~~~~

It's not the worst planet to crash on.

The thought is so ridiculous you'd laugh if it wasn't for the blaring alarms and the screaming. Instead, you wrestle into the pilot’s seat and strap in. With the engine dead you'll have to manually time releasing the parachute. It's completely insane. Too early and the parachute burns, you crash into the ground and die. Too late and the parachute doesn't catch you, you crash into the ground and die. Provided you do survive you've at least got your suit on, oxygen tank attached, you'll be able to breath. The planet's oxygen is too low to survive for longer than two hours alone but it'll aid the tank and give you two days, three if you're careful, to get more. At least it isn't poisonous.

Thoughts all over the place you wonder where the other ship will fall. Hopefully close enough you can still make use of it. Hopefully they've got a good pilot.

You've been lucky this far, now all you can do is hope your luck holds. You break atmosphere flames blurring the view of the planet and then it's rushing to meet you. You start counting, watching it come closer, closer. You see the other ship careen away from you.

“Fuck!” Someone behind you shouts “Pull the damn lever are you trying to kill us all?!”

You ignore them, don't lose count. Ok

Three… two… one…

You close your eyes and pull.

You don't open your eyes.

No. For the first time in years. You pray.

⧫⧫⧫

Pain is the first thing you register, across your chest aches like, well, like you've just crashed a ship. The next is the smell, smoke, that can't be good, it's not entirely unpleasant though. Then the noise, someone's shouting in your ear telling you to get up, to move, they swear and leave you dangling upside down, still strapped into the pilots’ seat. Oh, that's why your chest hurts, ok, you think to yourself, you’re alive. You need to move. You need to open your eyes.

You do.

Lights are flashing, disorientating you more than your current position, blood rushing to your head. You reach up and press the release on the seat belt and drop to the floor, or maybe the ceiling, head first. Didn't think that one through you chastise yourself.  The engine is on fire, filling the hull with smoke but your legs are numb so, seizing your pack where it’s fallen beside you, you crawl to the light you think is the door and to your relief, flop outside.

No one notices you. They're all looking away, throwers out and pointed into the dead trees you sit back against the ship still reeling from the crash, too slow to realise how absolutely fucked you are. They come out the trees fast, even with spears and blades, you watch as the crew falls one by one. You can't process what you're seeing, frozen in place. Blood splatters, coming down like rain around you. Too late your body reacts and you stumble to your feet and run.

You get out of sight and then you stop, panting. Every breath aches your chest.

Something's wrong. Something you're not seeing. Right before your eyes. What is it?!

It hits you, slowly like a wave, realisation and then panic. You reach up slowly and touch your head. Gloves come away wet and dark with your blood.

Your helmet is shattered.

You aren't sure if you're crying or blood is dripping into your eyes. You suspect the blood. Feeling numb you keep moving, one foot in front of the other vaguely glancing down at the dial on your arm. After the running you'll be unconscious in at best an hour and a half, dead a little after that.

The petrified forest seems to close in around you. It’s a stillness like you’ve never experienced. Trees tower above you, skeletal branches reaching up like fingers. The limbs cast dark shadows in the bright sun, crossing over the dry brush underfoot, hiding foot falls and branches to trip on.

You walk on.

⧫⧫⧫

15 minutes left.

You decide to find a place to sit, ideally somewhere with a view but you can't me picky. A fallen tree does the job and you pull off the remainder of your helmet. Trying not to think about your imminent demise you look up. The suns are low, three of them. It twinges in your chest that you'll never go home, never see that sky again. Left to rot alone, no one who knows your traditions to perform your rites. Not that you deserve them. If you're going to put the ring back on, now would be the time. Make penance, but you don't think you can. Perhaps the hundred years wait is what you deserve.

7 minutes left.

There's someone approaching. Silhouetted against the scorching red sky, the heat rising from the ground distorting them, making you wonder if you’re hallucinating. The only clue they’re real is the crunch of the ground beneath their feet, but even that seems to echo around you.

Hope is the thing with feathers and it just flaps a wing wearily in your chest. And then stutters. The sun glints off their pistol, a beautiful sparkle that dims your hope. You do what you're good at, grab your own and shoot first. His gun flies from his hand and you smile, at least your aim is true. It falls off your face as quickly as it appears though as you feel a barrel press into your skull.

Clever buggers divided and conquered.

You drop your thrower but whoever it is doesn't lower theirs. “A little creature all alone,” a low voice drawls, “No helmet? No breath? What will we do with you?”

Staring straight at the man in front as he picks up your pistol and glares at you, you respond. “If we are going to chat, can we do it wherever your pod is? I have quite a story but I'll be dead in…” you look down at your dial, the gun increases its pressure on your skull as you try to suppress the panic “In about 5 minutes” the man remains silent, his pistol staying pressed into your skull. Your mind races, trying to find a way to argue your survival and clutches at the one thing you have. “I chose not to kill your friend when I could have done. Can you at least hear me out?”

The man behind you clicks his tongue “Ok! Well, I'm certainly intrigued and I'm sure even my partner here can't disapprove of allowing you to argue your case.” The comment seems pointed like he'll definitely disagree but even as you see his mouth twist he stays silent. “On your feet creature I'm not inclined to lug you back myself.” Standing the man lowers the thrower into your back and gently pushes you forward.

Their pod is close but you're feeling dizzier by the second and don't even think to protest when, as soon as you're in and the doors shut, the man at your back ties your hands behind you.

Focusing on him as he moves in front of you and pulls off his helmet you notice he’s favouring one arm and despite his sharp brown eyes, he looks feverish and drained. Not paying it much thought, you breathe deeply feeling sharper but it only draws your attention back to the pain in your body. Kevva you're tired. The urge to lie down and rest is near overwhelming, but the one who talks is eyeing you coldly for weakness, you’re no use if you can’t even stand.

Still, you try to get your bearings. The pod is small and rectangular, they haven’t turned the lights on and the looming shadows seem to pull in the walls, making your saviours into giants, making you feel like you’re pledging your case to The Olympians. There’s a small bench with a couple chairs next to a tiny stove and sink, there’s only one cot up against the wall, opposite what could be a cupboard but your eyes can’t make it out in the dim light.

“Now then creature, it's not every day we come across such a little thing with no air on this breathless planet and certainly not one who can shoot so damn straight!” The chuckles “I am just fascinated to know how you got into this predicament.”

You nod thinking carefully about your words. “We were a prospecting crew,” that's definitely a lie, “I'm an engineer but I know how to dig.” Well that's true at least, “Our ship fell of orbit but I managed to deploy the chutes in time so we didn't die on impact but…” you close your eyes as the images of the blood flashes before you.

“Let me guess your theatrical entrance gathered a welcoming party?”

“Something like that, I didn't realise my helmet had broken right away, I managed to run… I think everyone else is dead.” In a way you hope they are, else you really are in trouble.

The man is grinning at you, showing his teeth but the calculating gaze doesn’t falter “An engineer I'll be damned! And you can dig too? This is my lucky day. We happen to be in need of an engineer. See, our little pod has seen some better days and now it is unwilling to fly. Say, if you can fix it up and help us dig a smidgen, save us some time, we'll give you a lift out when the time comes? Quid pro quo”

An unwanted thought strikes you, settling deep in your stomach like a stone. “That sounds like a great deal but I won't be able to help you, not unless you supply me with a helmet.”

With that the other man seems to reach the end of his patience. And he moves gesturing at the talker.

“Now then, it just doesn't seem right to let such a pretty little thing suffocate on this rock... Well, I can't argue with that I suppose… I do apologise, little creature, I find myself, however unwittingly, agreeing with my partner. If you can’t help us then I can find no reasonable excuse to waste our resources on you. Looks like the deals off” he sighs “This is disappointing, I had such high hopes for our association.” With a shrug he pats your shoulder in sympathy that doesn’t meet his eyes. You shouldn't have hoped, your lucks all spent.

You take a deep breath, mind racing to find a way to survive, “Untie my hands at least, I'd appreciate some dignity as I walk to meet my maker.” You glance at your pack on the floor, you won’t need it now.

He pauses for a second, seeming to size you up before nodding and turning you around to face the door. In the reflection of the glass, you see the profile of his sharp features as he looks back, “Now then two, surely you can do the creature the quick the justice of a shot rather than a slow suffocation… Right good.” He cuts your hands loose and instantly the other man is there pressing his thrower into your back. You walk together, back into the waste.

There's only one way you're getting out of this so you close your eyes for a second and pause. He shoves you, lifting his gun to the back of your head. You take a breath and act.

Bending forwards and shoving your elbow up into his arm so the shot goes over your head, you spin knocking the gun aside and grab the small switchblade concealed in your pocket. He should have searched you. You don't hesitate as you stab him in the heart, following him to the ground and wrenching his helmet off. You close your eyes as the light leaves his.

Shaking off the nausea clamouring at you, you pull out the blade blanching as it sprays blood across you. You wipe it clean before stowing it away and then swipe a hand across your face, there’s no way to tell whether the deep red that rubs off on your hand is his or yours, or someone else’s. Feelin around in your pockets for a coin, you suppose the least you can do is pay his boatman so you place the coin under his tongue. You don’t pray. The dead don’t need it.

Ezra watches as you perform this strange ritual, he had to admit that he's captivated. Perhaps his wound has rotted so much he's delirious, finally driven mad by the toxins. Perhaps that was why he agreed to free your hands, why he didn’t check you for a blade. He considers you as he watches, so determined to stay alive.

You pull off the man's suit grateful he's small, even if it'll still swamp you, and grab his helmet. Stripping your own suit quickly you ignore the bandages on your forearm and pull his on. The fit isn't bad, it still seals around your wrists and ankles but it’s loose at your neck. You've got 12 minutes before you pass out unless you fix the hole your own knife made and get a tank of oxygen.

You look at the pod, the other man is watching you. Brown eyes piercing yours as if looking into your soul. It's him or nothing. You've got to try.

You approach the pod carrying your suit. Looking through the glass in the door and you gesture a setting for your radio, there’s a click followed by his harsh breathing.

“That was not especially kind, little creature. I certainly underestimated your ferociousness”

You shrug, “It was him or me.”

“What makes your existence so exponentially more important than his d’you think?”

You frown, “I didn't decide that it did, the powers that be choose. I did bring a knife to a gunfight” He smiles slightly and lets out a little chuckle.

Ezra watches you carefully, you look so tired, so small as you lean against the door of the pod his feverish brain seems to be attempting to soften a long-hardened heart. Still, he's not an idiot. “I'm afraid letting you in may be a detriment to my state of being, creature, you are indeed viscous and I'm not inclined to trust someone that murdered my acquaintance with so little hesitation.” He watches your eyes closed and for a second you look so hopeless but when they open, they've hardened.

“I could simply pull apart your pod from the outside, make sure you suffocate with me!” The last words come out in a shout of frustration. You bang your hand against the glass window of the door.

He glares at you, his voice low and menacing “I do not take lightly to threats, creature.”

This day’s too long, too hard, you've done too much. How many deaths? You realise that you can't kill someone for, sensibly, not letting you in. You laugh “I feel like the wolf at your door,” you sigh god your head hurts “There's no point!” you gesture, “Killing you would do nothing but damn me further I won't kill you out of spite. Fuck!” You glance and the dial on your arm,

6 minutes.

You turn away and sit, suit back against the door. It's as nice a spot as any. “I will choose to die here though I think, just as a reminder that you killed me when I fall through the next time you head out”

You chuckle at the macabre thought then turn off your radio and pull off the helmet.

3 minutes.

The final sun is setting, this really is Apollo's world and it is beautiful. The orange sky outlines the forest’s hands like an oil painting waving you off. Not a bad place to go at all.

2 minutes.

At least it's quiet.

1 minute.

Black spots are filling your vision, blurring out the beauty. Rude you think to yourself and you let out a delirious giggle.

The door behind you slides open and a strong hand grabs the back of the suite as you flop back, hauling you in, snagging the helmet and sealing the door. You don’t move, staring at the ceiling for a second breathing deeply.

Ezra drops heavily down onto the cot and watches you, you're quite something up close even covered in another's blood and your own, you're beautiful. He imagines this is what a witch would look like after a ritual, all blood and magic and secrets.

You open your eyes and peer up at him. “What changed your mind?”

He grins “Call it a reckless curiosity fuelled by this festering limb of mine.” He gestures to his arm.

It’s your turn to size him up, he seems to be looking worse by the minute and now slumped against the wall, you could probably just kill him and take what you need. Maybe you would if he hadn’t let you in. “Perhaps I can patch it up, I've got steady hands and too much experience with wounds from weapons” you struggle into a seated position with a grunt as pain flashes.

“You might as well have a gander, I'm afraid if left to my own devices I'll have to saw the thing off myself or else perish” He frowns down at his twitching fingers, “I do believe this may be my lowest point, little creature. I invite in trouble and then ask it for help? I have certainly had preferable days, for instance, when the ship I was presiding upon became infested with channel rats seems superior to today.”

You hum in reply not really paying attention as he continues to talk. Reaching for your pack, you pull out a pretty well stocked surgery kit.  “I'll numb it as best I can but it's not much”

“Anything that alleviates this agony will be a blessing little creature” You raise an eyebrow at him in acknowledgment, clearly doubting it as you hand him a tablet which he swallows. He pulls off his shirt and you examine the wound trying not to stare at his strong arms and broad chest. It’s a couple days old and badly infected, you’ll have to get out the rot before you can think of sealing it.

“Lie back” you tell him

“Perhaps in another situation your choice of language would be quite desirable” he smirks at you, not succeeding in disguising the worry in his face.

You sigh at the comment “Scream all you need but don't move”

That makes him chuckle, “You're a siren luring me in to slay me, aren't you?” His jaw clenches as you start cutting away the rotted flesh. It is slow work, carefully taking as little pink away as possible. To his credit he doesn't move a muscle and you know it must be agony. He talks the entire time, telling the tale of how he got himself shot in such a long-winded way you can’t tell the truth from the fiction. It seems to give him distraction though, so you don’t ask if he’s lying. As you close the wound with foam, he smiles at you, softer than before.

“Names Ezra, by the way.” Then he passes out.

He’s rather strange you decide, but most prospectors are. You’ve got to be a bit odd to spend your days nearly isolated on hostile planets. Asleep he looks peaceful, none of the calculating gaze or darkness. That little patch of blonde is so distinctive, you find yourself almost hypnotised by his face. Frowning at yourself you move away and sit back against the other side of the pod facing the cot.

A few things left to do with him unconscious, you pull off the stolen suit and grab the patch gun from your pack, melting it closed. You pull it back on and holster your pistol. Sitting back, you take a pill from your med kit to ease the pain in your chest and let it pull you into sleep.

Unsurprisingly, you wake before him. You check he's alive then pack your stuff together. You're even, you suppose. He saved your life. You saved his (or at least his arm) and you'd rather not stay around to find out if, when less fevered, he decides to get more even with you for killing his partner. He did give you his name though and names are powerful things so you pull out your notebook and leave a note as you grab an oxygen tank.

You glance behind you as the door seals behind you but you don’t turn back. If you head towards the ship your crew had brought down yesterday, it should have an escape pod still on it. Hopefully you can fix it up if needs be. You follow your compass East.

⧫⧫⧫

Ezra wakes slowly, he hasn't slept so deeply in years, he feels comfortable if a little cold and slowly he opens his eyes. The previous day returns to him in a haze, a pretty face and bright eyes glaring through the door, a gesture to old gods, his arm…

He looks down and moves his fingers. It's good, remarkably so, still stiff and aching but whatever you’d given him seems to have hurried his healing. That stuffs expensive. Not the sort of thing a prospector would usually have and certainly not something they'd share. You were quite strange, he concludes, but fascinating. Why on earth would someone who could act so brutally for their own survival give him something so valuable? Sure, he let you in but you certainly hadn't needed to let him know you had such a thing in your possession. He supposed guilt over his partner, perhaps you were truly naïve or, bizarrely, you could have money. Which would create a more baffling question of just how you ended up here.

It doesn't occur to Ezra for a moment the other reason, until he looks around the pod to find you gone along with a portable oxygen canister leaving a bit of paper in its place. Things stolen hold less value.

The paper was clearly torn from a notebook on it, it simply said your name.

He curses pulling on his suit and following your tracks into the forest. The trail is light but visible, branches broken where you’d passed, dry brush crushed under your feet. He moves quickly, sure of his footing after spending so much time navigating the dead forest. He’s only travelled about a mile before he can hear you moving ahead.

⧫⧫⧫

You walk through the trees, one sun shining above you warming your bones. As you check your direction you pause. A twig snaps and you freeze listening carefully. There's another noise behind you and you spin tensing. You can't see anything or anyone as you peer around you, the forest is too dense.

A body crashes into you from behind flinging you into the ground, looping something around your neck. Your head ricochets off the inside of your helmet shaking your brain, opening the cut again but not breaking the glass. You try to lurch up but get nowhere so you roll into your back with them now beneath you but the cord around your neck holds you back. Choking, you catch your fingers in it so you can breathe and pull forwards, hard, rolling again and thrusting your helmet back into theirs, loosening their grip enough so you can pull the cord away, only for them to shove you head down into the ground.

The world is swimming now, wobbling around you as you try to get your body to listen to you. To get away. To fight back. Anything! But their weight on your back prevents you from moving. You try to look out of the corner of your eye to see your opponent but get nothing. It surprises you when a tear tracks down your face. You suppose you have been putting off the inevitable for days now, Kevva has called you back.

Whoever it is clicks on your radio and a familiar voice hisses, “You stupid fucking cunt, I'm bringing you to hell with-“ A shot rings out and the body slumps on top of you, you lift yourself up and shove it off sitting up on your haunches looking around for the shooter.

It's him, Ezra, gun still trained on you. He watches you halt, eyes wide.

“You took something of mine, and although usually I don't go out of my way to find trouble, which you little creature certainly are. I awoke to find myself abandoned and a little peeved to discover that you had liberated a couple of my possessions and shimmied out of part of our prior agreement.”

Your heads still spinning and with the blood trickling into your eye you find it immensely difficult to focus on what he is saying. “Prior agreement?”

“Yes indeed. You'll find you had affirmed in exchange for breath you would fix up my little ship so when the time comes, I may leave this barely liveable planet. I do not appreciate reneging”

You squeeze your eyes shut.

“On your feet creature,” he approaches, “I find myself growing impatient.” You stand and instantly stumble forward. He grabs onto your shoulder steadying you, his other hand darting out before you can relax and snagging your thrower from its holster. “I underestimated you once, I will not again. Now, your assailant seemed to know you, if I'm not mistaken, by the way they deemed to remark upon you. Pray tell me the tale?”

Looking at him you do feel a lot like prey. He's close, grip still firm on your shoulder and towering over you. A grin showing all his teeth like a wolf, all you would need is a red cloak and you’re dinner.

You glance down at the body and clench your jaw, it was Cora. Formally, a member of your crew, she had always distrusted you. Rightfully so, you think to yourself.

Steadying yourself you shrug off Ezra's grip, ignoring the gun still aimed at you and kneel down to pull off her helmet. Taking a coin from your pocket you place it under her tongue and look back up at him, the helmet still in your grasp. He's watching you curiously, seeming to be rolling words around in his mouth as if completely thrown by your behaviour.

“She was part of my crew, I was the engineer so the crash was my fault,” well that was definitely true.

Ezra chuckles darkly, “I'm not too sure I want you to repair my ship after all, creature. Your predilection for incident does appear wearisome.”

You tilt your head up at him, “See any other engineers around here?”

“I suppose you'll have to do, but I will be watching you mighty closely little bird, in case you decide to take flight again.” You frown at the new nickname but don't get a chance to argue as you both hear a horn a little way off. “Unfortunately, my shot appears to have alerted the ever-irritable locals to our location.” He grabs your arms and hauls you back to your feet pulling you along with him as he walks back the way you had come, Cora’s helmet still clasped in your hand. “Luckily the settlers are not quick on their feet, I must say.”

You can't think of a response, your head is still reeling and your feet feel like lead as you trudge after him, his hand gripping firmly onto your wrist.

You're grateful you hadn't travelled far when he tugs you into the pod. Closing the door and turning, Ezra finds you slumping down to sit on the floor ripping off your helmet and attempting to wipe the blood out of your eye. It feels a little voyeuristic as he watches you tug off the suit soaked with his partner's blood, revealing the black insulating vest and leggings beneath before flopping back eyes closed for a moment. You feel his stare and pointedly ignore it as you grab your own suit, abandoned the day before, and shimmy into it. Cora had the same suit and so her helmet will fit yours. You feel a little relief at no longer having to wear the blood of someone you'd killed, not to mention more secure in something that fits.

Glancing up at Ezra as you transfer your possessions between pockets yet again you see he's elected to tie his suit up around his waist revealing those damn arms again. He crouches down in front of you and gently grasps your chin to tilt your head up at him. “That's quite the cut you've got there little bird.”

He carefully watches your face but your head is still fuzzy so with no retort he moves away from you and picks up your med kit. He cleans your wound gently, wiping the dried blood off your face. As he does, you study him. Close up you can see the wrinkles around his eyes from when he smiles and the curved scar on his cheek. Fighting off the impulse to trace your fingers over it, you ask how he got it. He grins as he places a plaster on your head “Now that’s quite a story” but you don’t get to hear it yet, sounds outside means the settlers have found the pod.

“They'll leave provided they don't know we're here” He grumbles, tugging you into the cupboard running along the wall.

It’s slim but long inside, there are blankets on the floor, a lantern and a small stack of tattered books. “Do you sleep in a cupboard?” you have to ask but you do your best to keep the incredulity out of your tone.

“I'd rather you didn't insult my little burrow as a guest, there's only one cot in this pod and I lost the wager so I made do. I think you’ll find it’s rather cosy”

You nod, a little thrown by his change in attitude since being in the forest. As you both sit you watch his face in the golden light of the lamp. It makes him appear to glow, almost like a painting. He'd look almost relaxed if it wasn't for how his eyes were watching you carefully.

Ezra studies your features, if you hadn't been such a bringer of chaos, he'd think he'd made you up, that, or Kevva had reached into his head and plucked you out. You're just perfect, perhaps anything his own mind could come up with would have to come with chaos, there was no fun without it.

The quiet moment is disrupted by a bang on the side of the pod, you jump and Ezra tenses slightly but seems to be expecting it. “They're trying to frighten out anyone inside” he whispers, “If we stay quiet and hidden, we'll be just fine”

You nod and tilt your head back against the wall trying to block out the noise as Ezra reaches for the book at the top of his stack. You read the title ‘Perfume’, you haven't heard of it but judging by the battered pages and writing in the margins Ezra knows it intimately. He glances at you. “It is a tale of a man who gets so enraptured with the scent of a woman he endeavours to turn her essence into perfume.”

You hum in response “That sounds a little morbid.”

Reaching into your bag you pull out a similarly dog-eared copy of ‘The Power’ and do your best to ignore the man opposite you.

Ezra frowns at his book. It's not often a good read fails to pull him into its world but something about your presence has driven him to distraction. Instead, he closes the book and continues to study you, it's a nice change having a stranger in such close quarters. You're frowning at your book a little furrow in your brow he finds endearing. It's only then he notices you're shaking. He wonders if it's from the death of your friend, from the settlers’ insistent pounding on the side of the pod or from him. He supposes it's quite scary to be trapped in a small space with someone twice your size and he hasn't exactly been kind to you. Ezra frowns to himself, not that you've given him a reason to act kindly. You will be useful to each other but there's no point making friends on such rough terms.

You look up meeting his eye as he glowers at you and swiftly glance away, trying to take up as little space as possible.

“You said you came to prospect?” he murmurs to you. You look back at him, wide eyed, and nod. “Good, you can help me finish me dig, 60/40 split, since you so callously divested me of my partner.”

You nod “You ridded me of mine too. Looks like we're even again. Equal split.” He’s tempted to laugh at your boldness, negotiating with no leverage. He keeps his face stern, unwilling to let you know how much he is enjoying your spark.

“I don't think so.” he speaks lowly making you tense, “I will permit that without you my arm would be about as useful as stim gum is at staving off hunger. And at least to me my arm is equal to a partner.” He tilts his head at you, the light cutting plains across his skin, “Even so… we still aren't even. That’s twice I saved your troublesome arse. One could suggest you’re indebted to me.”

To his surprise you nod, even as your jaw clenches and he watches you swallow “I guess I'll have to make it up to you another way. Even split or I don’t dig” That breaks him, he can’t hold in his grin at your fearlessness. He strongly suspects you’ve had an abundance of practice getting what you're owed from characters more unscrupulous than himself. He frowns at that, even hardened prospectors treat him warily, there must be something else to you. He agrees though, more out of curiosity than necessity.

“Even split it is then.”

⧫⧫⧫

You both agree there's no point going out to dig with the settlers so close but after the noise has subsided Ezra looks you over and suggests you shower. You don't tell him what a gift that is but he sees how your eyes light up at the prospect of washing off the past days’ grime. He hands you a towel and as the water starts running, he distracts himself from picturing you naked by satisfying some of his inquisitiveness and going through your pack.

There's not much of interest. Your med kit, some protein bars, instant caf, ammunition but in the front pocket he finds an old ring. Round like a signet but instead of a family emblem it is simply a small coin, plated in gold. He studies it, it's roughly hewn, well-made but not particularly fine. He wonders if you stole this too, but it isn't flashy and everything else you've taken had been useful so he posits it is yours, but why don't you wear it? Frowning he puts it back as he spots a notebook, worn and well-loved but as he reaches for it the water shuts off and he leaves your pack, choosing to get nourishment for you both before you sleep.

You emerge dressed just in your leggings and vest, Ezra gestures to the seat noticing the bandage on your arm. “What did you do that your mystical little tablets cannot heal?”

You finger the material absentmindedly, “Oh it's an old wound I keep reopening, better to keep it covered to prevent infection.”

He peers at you clearly unconvinced but he doesn’t question you further, you avoid his eyes looking at the floor as he sticks some food in front of you. “Eat up little creature, we've hard work to do tomorrow and we'll need our energy.”

You take a mouthful before asking, “Where will we sleep?”

“Better we stay out of sight in case our hospitable friends return, so back into the burrow. And I'd rather keep you close in case you start to feel flighty again” You sigh but to his surprise don't argue, perhaps the settlers really did shake you.

Ezra returns to studying you as you both eat, without your suit on he can see the harsh bruises around your neck where your former friend had tried to strangle you but the gash through your eyebrow has stopped bleeding and fresh from the shower, you're quite the vision. It has been so long since he'd had another body to warm his bed and you look so soft and vulnerable without the suit and imminent danger, he finds himself picturing you under him, writhing, brow furrowed like before. His hands grabbing your arms, your hips, your neck- He shakes himself of the image. Your partnership is tenuous at best without bringing in the pleasures of the flesh and he doesn't really want to scare you off potentially leaving him alone and trapped on this world.

When you've eaten you head into Ezra's ‘burrow’ as he called it and settle opposite each other, legs stretched out in front, feet almost touching. Ezra is next to the door ensuring you can't leave without waking him but you're not inclined to try, you know your luck is running out. You're grateful he doesn't try to scare you into staying, instead curiously he picks up his book and looks at you. 

“I propose an exchange, it appears we are both almost prepared to recite our beloved tomes cover to cover, so, would you acquiesce your book for mine?”

You shrug, “I wouldn't mind something new but I'm not sure how much you'd enjoy ‘The Power’ and I have nothing else.”

He smiles his eyes crinkling with amusement, “Well then, read me the blurb and let me decide for myself. It seems only I would know what I may delight in.”

“It's about how women become the dominant gender in the world, told by a man in the future where a male dominated society seems absurd.”

Ezra grins, “I am intrigued! It'll be a joy to discuss books with another person, a pleasure I can rarely partake in”

You smile back as you swap books. A tentative exchange that leaves you both a little hopeful for the progress of your partnership.

You both read in silence until you yawn twice in a row causing Ezra to yawn too and he suggests you turn in. Or you guess he does, his choice of language seems to baffle you here and there. He wrangles a blanket out from under you and you settle in, top to tail, his feet level with your chest and yours to below his hip. You didn't realise how the adrenaline of the day had worn you out and you're asleep in seconds. 

You awake on your front, head nestled into your arm. It's pitch black and there's a weight on your ankle. Trying not to panic you wait for your eyes to adjust and peer over your shoulder to see what's grabbed you. It's Ezra.

Asleep on his back one hand on his stomach where the blankets had been shoved down and his under shirt had risen revealing a strip of tan skin glowing in the low light. You try not to focus on that. His other hand, by his side wrapping nearly all the way around your ankle. You wonder if he grabbed you awake to stop you trying to escape or if unconscious, he simply wanted to keep your warm body close, that idea makes you feel a little soft, this is easily the gentlest he's touched you apart from patching your head. You debate if you should shake him off but you don't want to wake him and his warm hand is anchoring so you just put your head back down on your arms and go back to sleep.

⧫⧫⧫

Ezra had his sleeping pattern nailed down, a necessary thing for a prospector, usually out cold for 7 hours so he's surprised when he startles awake. He doesn't usually dream. He grasps at the threads of images his mind had conjured committing them to memory. It was about you and it was enough to make him flush and now as he rouses himself, he gently detaches his hand from your ankle unsure about when he grabbed it. It's still early, he looks over you asleep on your stomach breathing slowly. He sighs adjusting himself in his pants if he can't get these images of his head, he's going to have an even more difficult time working with you than he already will. Desire is fickle like that he supposes, giving him a beautiful creature, he can't trust. One who is clearly concealing something and who certainly doesn't desire him in return. A beep tells him the suns are rising and you begin to stir

“Arise little bird, a day off struggle and fortune lays in wait.”

You grumble in return shuffling onto your back and sitting. Ezra tries not to stare as the blanket slips away revealing your body. To avoid further thoughts, he leaves his burrow taking his suit, subtly clutching it to his front so as not to alert you to his predicament, and heads for the shower to sort himself out, eternally grateful that the pod had connected to an underground lake making the water supply essentially infinite. Hopefully a brisk wash will clear his head and body of the lust.

You flop back and sigh. That damn blonde tuft and those sharp features were following you even into sleep. It had been far too long since you'd enjoyed another person and if it wasn't for the dilemma you were in, Ezra would be an easy yes. Broad and handsome and charming in a way that just spelled trouble, but your uneasy alliance, and your lies, and the fact that he could easily kill you make you especially wary of being vulnerable in the way you truly crave. Instead, you shake yourself, grab your pack, dig around for that terrible instant caf and leave the cupboard.

Ezra's shower was doing nothing for his erection. Feeling a little exasperated he grasps it harshly and tries not to picture you so vivid in his dream moaning around him. The water raining down on him acts as a lubricant as he harshly begins pumping his hand not wanting to take his time and fall into a fantasy of you. It doesn't work, he imagines how soft your hands would be, how wet you'd be, how he'd take you here up against the tiles. It's quick and dirty. He grunts, swears, then cums, the water washing the sin away leaving him panting and if anything, more frustrated than before.

You hear Ezra swear in the shower and wonder vaguely if he dropped something as you grab two mugs and start heating water for caf. The shower shuts off and you look round as he emerges with a towel wrapped around his waist. His eyes are dark and he looks furious so you turn away and try not to think about how the water droplets on his broad shoulders shimmer as he disappears back into the cupboard.

Seeing you there, making you both caf, dressed in your underclothes sparked a craving of domesticity within Ezra. For the briefest moment you weren't a reluctant partner on a hostile planet, instead you were a lover he could wrap his arms around from behind as you giggle and try to get breakfast and it aches.

When Ezra re-emerges, dressed with his hair sticking in all directions, you've put his caf on the small bench and are sitting waiting for him. He sits too and picks it up.

“There's only a couple months left in the dig” he says, “You up to it? I will be displeased if you slow us down”

You glare, so this is what he's worried about, “Don't worry I've had plenty of practice. If anything, I'd worry about your arm!”

He grins at you “No need to fret little creature, I managed to do my job with a hole in it and with your miraculous medication, it is only a little unyielding.” He carefully looks over your face, “Speaking of, I would appreciate you being candid in not only the precise location you acquired such a potion but why in Kevva you deigned see fit to give it to me?”

He watches you chew on your words, “I relieved them from a man who sought to take from me, and I gave them to you to even my debt. You saved my life if I didn't give you one, I wouldn't have been able to save your arm.”

What a strange little thing, he thinks, so worried about balance, “Did you happen to also relieve this man of his life?” You stare into your cup and don't answer “Well if he sought to take from you, I'll assume it was just.”

You sit in silence as Ezra smoothly changes the subject and grabs a bar for you, spinning quite the tale as you eat. Not stopping for breath as you pull on your suits, boots and helmets, only pointing you towards the equipment you need to grab before opening the door and leading you back into waste.

Ezra hadn't given you back your thrower which you supposed was fair although he had left you your blade which you're sure he remembered you carried. Perhaps a little act of faith to gain your trust? It didn't hurt. 

As you approach the site Ezra looks back at you, “Stay close little creature we wouldn't want you to get lost.” His voice is low and threatening and sends a shiver down your spine that isn't entirely fear. You nod slowly and he grins, wolf-like just as before, as if outside you the pod he is an entirely different beast to reckon with. 

“I'll get in the pit and do the heavy lifting, you can treat and polish on the surface, we'll go for as long as we've got light and head back. It's gonna be a long day little bird”

The dig comes as a relief, the repetitive labour clears your head and Ezra seems to be filled to the brim with stories and anecdotes, although, you don't think you're actually learning much about him. The way he talks is open yet totally guarded, as if he has the compulsion to speak but the sense not to trust you. You aren't offended, it's not like you're exactly opening up to him either. The day passes quickly like this and as the sun dips too low to see well Ezra hauls himself out of the pit, tells you to pack up and you both head back to the pod to eat and sleep. You wake with his hand around your ankle again.

⧫⧫⧫

A couple of days in, the suns seem to be burning even hotter than before. The dig is gruelling and you’re grateful Ezra so far, hadn’t let you into the pit. You aren’t sure you could bear it in this heat. By the time you finish and return to the pod, taking off your helmet is a relief. You feel hot and sticky and bone tired so you plop yourself down into the cot in the main room still in your suit. Ezra chuckles, “You must be out of practice, else you'd still find these long days easy.”

Ah, so he is bringing it up. You raise your head to look at him, “I still kept up with you, didn't I?”

“True, true, although I am not functioning at full capacity at the present time.” He gestures to his arm.

You flop back and gaze at the ceiling, “Or I just survived a crash from space a few days ago and I'm still a bit worn out.”

That makes him laugh. It's a big warm noise, that makes you giggle too at the absurdity of it all. 

“Are you confident you wish to slumber there?”

“Why? You afraid I'm going to make another break for it?”

His grin is just a little softer now, “A little. But if I were you, I'd be more concerned about the neighbours might pop by.”

“Shit, alright” you sit up and instantly yawn.

“Let's get some food in you and turn in, little bird. If I'm not careful I'll have to carry you into my burrow.”

Smiling back, you mock him a little, “With your arm? I'm not sure you'd be capable.”

At that he grins and you realise you've given him a challenge he won't back down from. Stalking up to you like a cat he seizes you under the arms and hauls you against his chest making you huff and giggle as you try to wriggle free. He carries you across the pod like you weigh nothing and plonks you down on the little work bench. Hovering too close for just a moment too long, his breath ghosting your cheek.

“Now how about you keep your smart comments to yourself, lest I have to keep proving you wrong?” he smiles at you, letting you see the crow’s feet by his eyes. 

“I'll admit defeat this time I suppose, but you really should go easy on that arm!”

Ezra turns away from you, his heart pounding a little and reluctant to leave your embrace. Instead, he ignores the feeling urging him to clasp you close and grabs your food. As you slide off the bench and into a seat, he hands you a bowl. Neither of you attempt to meet the other's eye and both of you fail to see the flushed face of your companion.

Once again sleep comes easy, the hard work making your body crave rest to heal but even so in the dark you wake. There's no rush of panic this time instead you feel warm and sleepy as you glance at Ezra at the other end of the cupboard. He's not grasping your ankle instead his side is pressed against yours, leg to leg. It's cosy and in your half-awake state you don't think about how you had gone to sleep separated, and who had sought out whom in the black.

The next day goes much the same, you bicker before you head out deciding who should be in the pit and who shouldn't. Ezra concedes that he'll do the treating of the gems today if you keep alternating so neither of you gets too worn out. You agree though you point out yet again that he needs to go easy on his arm and he points out your bruises and gash on the head as hypocrisy. It's an argument with no malice and it feels refreshing to have a go at someone without worrying they'll get angry and shoot you. Although perhaps you should be more concerned by how at ease you are. If he was to see the scar on your arm, you doubt he'd be so understanding. 

As the day ends Ezra offers you his hand to pull you out of the pit, his touch lingering in yours for just a second too long.

⧫⧫⧫

Working like this you form a sort of routine. Up early, dig till you can't see, talk, eat, sleep, press together in the night. Ezra is starting to reveal little details about himself, where he was born, how he got into prospecting, his favourite books. In a way it makes you feel guilty for staying guarded, only relinquishing the barest details about yourself, but if he notices he doesn't point it out. 

A month passes like this and as you watch Ezra hop into the pit you wonder vaguely if he'll ever run out of things to talk about. He describes an incident where an amateur prospector managed to get his arm stuck in the pit resulting in its brutal amputation but your attention fails as you wait for the next potential gem and you look into the trees behind you. 

An uneasy feeling claws at you so trusting your gut you tell Ezra to shut up and get down out of sight just as someone emerges. No one you recognise, thank Kevva, and not a settler either. They are carrying a rifle though. Bowing your head to your work so they can't see your mouth move, you quickly describe what's happening.

“I can only see one, he's armed. A prospector. You stay quiet unless I shout.”

“Right then birdie. I await your call.”

You look up at the man staying on your knees and gesture your radio setting.

“What's someone like you doing out here all alone?” You repress a shudder at his tone.

“Same as you, I expect, making my way in the universe.” He comes closer and you fight the urge to back away but you don't want to draw attention to Ezra. “I don't have much to offer you and I don't take kindly to thieves.”

“Big talk from someone unarmed.” Wishing Ezra had given back your thrower, you stand and decide an attempt to bargain will be the best option.

“What do you want then, we can trade.”

“I'm not looking to trade anymore, I'm stuck here. My team's dead.” He levels his gun at you. “If you take me to your ship, I'll let you live for a price. Protest too much and I'll shoot and have my way while you bleed out.”

You gulp and stand starting to back away. Even with the element of surprise Ezra will have to act quick and be lucky if you both want to live. Why would he though, he doesn't have much motivation to risk his life for yours, he'll just have to hitch another ride. The man keeps moving towards you as you reach the edge of the pit, eyes not leaving your face and presses the gun to your chest. You glance down for a moment, hoping he doesn't look too, and see wide brown eyes and a miniscule nod. 

At the same moment Ezra reaches up, you drop back into the pit and land heavily on your back, winded. He slices across your assailants achilles tendon and grabs onto his leg pulling him in after you. Frozen in place, you watch the tussle, for the first time properly witnessing how formidable of a foe Ezra can be. His size and strength easily overpower the other man as he rolls on top, throwing down heavy blows that fill the air with the soft thuds of impact, like a heartbeat. A yell is cut off with a gurgle as Ezra shoves his blade into the man’s neck repeatedly, using his weight to hold the man down until he stills.

There's a moment before he turns, he lowers his head trying hard to calm his harsh breathing and sighs. “I do apologise little bird,” he turns to you scowl in place, eyes dark. “For my brutality, I'd rather you didn't have to bear witness.”

His voice is low and he's watching you carefully as you sit up. You feel lost for words at how far he'd gone to defend you, you wonder how close he got to becoming the man dead in front of you. Alone and cruel. All you can do is nod in response.

Ezra curses himself at how quiet you've become. Moving the body out of the pit had taken time and once done, as he watched you place a coin in his mouth, he'd announced that to continue the dig today would be futile with adrenaline running so high and at your nod you had gathered the equipment and headed back to the pod. He watches you carefully as you pull off your suit and decides that the fact you didn't just sprint for the trees after what he did was a good sign. But you continue to surprise him.

“Thank you,” you say softly, “For not letting him…”

“Nonsense, without the pleasure of your company I don't doubt my humanity would soon become as weathered as his own.” He frowns, “It was rather like being visited by the ghost of Christmas yet to come.” You tilt your head not really sure what that means but he shrugs. “Don't fret about it.”

Then there's silence as you watch each other. Lost in thought as you make your meal and eat.

Ezra ponders on the panic he felt deep in his chest at the waver in your voice. He wonders when saving you switched from utilitarian need to something more. He knows how stupid it is to get attached, how reckless. But your bright eyes and determination to stay alive were admirable and captivating and he craves to know more, what makes you laugh, how well you'd take him. He sighs and attempts to brush the lust aside. Even if you weren't terrified of him, he just knew you were concealing something.

The silence stretches out, both unwilling to break it, as you head into the burrow. For the first time, you sleep next to each other. 

⧫⧫⧫

Ezra is wrapped around you when you wake, safe and warm and comforting. You can feel his heartbeat against your back, its steady rhythm relaxing you before your brain starts whirring. Then you feel guilty, like you're taking advantage of him. He doesn't realise how much you enjoy him holding you close and you certainly don't deserve it. The weight of your lies heavy on your shoulders you ease out of his arms, careful not to wake him, and leave the sanctuary of the burrow. 

A wonderful dream slips away from him as he stirs. His little bird's weight in his arms, grounding him, giving him something to protect. Looking round for you and finding you gone, he swears and stumbles to his feet. Kevva, he hoped you hadn't left him alone.

He almost sighs with relief when he leaves his burrow just to spot you sitting by the window watching the suns rise, notebook in hand and mug beside you. You look up, a little wary of his wide eyes but shrug. “I couldn't sleep.”

“Me neither little creature, my dreams are haunted.” He picks up your mug and takes a sip, with a grimace he says “Can you truly enjoy something so acrimonious?”

You chuckle, “Habit I guess.”

“Well, it's certainly rousing” he smiles at you “What are you scribbling there?”

“I had a look round the ship, it's all the repairs I need to do.” You hesitate, “If we swing by the other crashed ship for a couple parts, we can be gone in two days.”

Ezra's eyes darken just a little, his voice low, “You wouldn't be trying to wiggle out of our agreement now? The dig isn't done and I demand satisfaction.”

He watches your mouth twist, “It's just I think our luck's run, the longer we stay the more trouble we're going to get like yesterday.”

“That cannot be helped, little creature. I'd like to live well for a while, and so, the dig must be completed.” You think to that other ship, there's immeasurable wealth on it but you can't tell him. Then he'd know what you were. So instead, you nod and start preparing for the day.

The change in your attitude has Ezra feeling nervous. He realises if he doesn't show a little faith, you won't feel safe and he'll lose you, and possibly himself. Just before opening the door to the waste, he turns to you, “Here.”

He's holding your pistol out to you, frowning slightly, you peer up at him “What?”

“If something like yesterday happens again I'd rather you be able to look after yourself,” you nod and reach for it but he keeps it in his grip for a moment, “Don't get any ideas” his voice is low and dangerous eyes hard on you. You swallow and nod shoving it into your holster.

To your relief the dig is quiet and Ezra has returned to chatting away to you from his perch outside the pit and eventually you're able to chat back making him laugh as the day passes.

There's a change between you, him trusting you to be armed has given you a chance to breathe, but, with that a new tension has come between you. One you're trying very hard to ignore. It’s crawled into your head and planted thoughts of closeness, of more, that you can ignore during the day but not at night.

After that day you'd formed a new routine. Going to sleep next to Ezra and waking up feeling secure in his arms before the guilt hits and you leave before he wakes. Not letting him know the comfort you've found there. 

⧫⧫⧫

Apart from the locals coming to bang on your walls every few days, weeks pass incident free as you both perform this dance around each other. Ezra finds that his cold showers are doing less and less to quell his lust, and heart is another matter entirely. So, he ignores it, treats you a little coolly, tries not to scare you off, it's getting more difficult now nearly every night he dreams of you. Sometimes it's lewd, sometimes you're chatting together, the worst are when he dreams he's just holding you. He might think it was real if not for how when he wakes up you aren't there.

Until the morning he wakes first. 

He's groggy, breathing deeply and so, so comfortable. It takes a moment to get his bearings. Shifting slightly, he realises how he's curled around you, hand on the strip of skin of your stomach where your shirt has rolled up, face pressing into the back of your neck and he has to fight the urge to kiss it. When you moan quietly, he props himself up on his arm looking down at you in the low light. For a moment he thinks you're having a nightmare but you flushed, breathing shallowly and he's certain you aren't. When you whimper, he shudders, such a pretty noise. He feels tempted to stay pressed against you, to touch you, to make you make more of those noises. He fights it off, and eases away from you stepping out of the warmth of his burrow. 

He thinks, perhaps later he can talk to you, there's nothing wrong with getting some pleasure and easing some stress in each other’s arms. There isn't long left of the dig and then you'll go your separate ways, the thought stings a little. He leans back against the door. Kevva, he craves more, he wants to learn every inch of you intimately, to learn what makes you tick, to wake up with you in his arms. It aches deep in his chest, so many years spent in poor company. He hears you moan once more and groans himself, pushing off the door he trudges to the shower.

For the first time in ages, he runs it hot before stepping in and grasping his cock. He lets himself take his time, starting slow, increasing the pace till he feels like he could explode then slowing right back down again. He doesn't fight off the images of you that spring into his head now he knows what you can sound like. He imagines you making them with his tongue on you, fingers buried in you as he presses you down, how you'd whine his name, how you'd beg. Ezra grunts, staving off his orgasm once more his cock red and throbbing with his heartbeat. He pictures sinking into you, hot and wet with you pliable in his arms as he fucks you into the ground. He cums hard with a growl and a curse and then curses himself both for being loud and for allowing himself to yearn for you, then finally he begins to wash.

⧫⧫⧫

You wake with a start, panting. Your dream is vivid in your mind. Ezra grasping your hands so you couldn't move as he fucked you with his tongue moaning against you. He'd talked too, both eloquent and totally filthy as he got you exactly where he wanted you. You huff, now you were left frustrated and still pining for a man who must just see you as a utility, a way to get off this planet. Hell, he barely even knew anything about you, didn't know the most important thing. But you know you can't stay in this limbo for long now, the digs nearly done and after then what can you do. There are two options, tell him who you are and how you feel and hope for the best or just ignore it, get off the planet, take your money, and go live the quiet life you'd intended. You focus on this debate and instead of the wetness between your legs as you leave the cupboard.

You look around for Ezra and exhale as you hear the shower running, there's no way for him to know what you were dreaming of, right?

That's when you hear him, it's a low, erotic groan followed by a string of swear words and you flush as you became achingly aware of how wound tight you are. You turn away and try to ignore it, heating up water for both of your cafs as the shower stops. 

As it brews the steel door swings open and Ezra emerges wrapped in a towel and glowering, you ignore his stare and the way droplets of water slide down his chest making you want to lick him as you hand him a mug. 

Ezra watches you gnaw on your lip as you look him over and can't hold in the grin at how frustrated you seem. He can't help but tease. 

“Did you have pleasant dreams little bird? You seemed unwilling to rise this delightful morning.”

His grin widens with your eyes as you look away “Err I don't remember… did you sleep ok?”

“Like I was in the welcoming arms of a lover” He doesn't miss your little inhale of breath, and he wonders how best to broach the topic of mutual pleasure with you. Perhaps it'll quell the urge to keep you safe in his arms.

The way Ezra is teasing you makes you think perhaps he can read your mind. As he goes to dress you make a decision, after the dig you'll explain how you really got here, explain how you don't want to leave him after the dig is done. And hopefully he'll be worn out enough that, should he decide you're too much of a liability, you can out run him.

As you head out an uneasy feeling settles in your stomach, you tell Ezra as much but he just chuckles, “Perhaps you're still tired”

The morning goes smoothly, you're in the pit this time handing stuff out every so often to Ezra, his fingers brushing yours. Both of you work quickly, you puff, out of breath, as you stretch yourself up for yet another hand off. His ability to talk is once again surprising you. You laugh at his story despite the unease and the beat of the sun in your back and miss the delighted expression that crosses Ezra's face from your position in the pit.

Like a light switching, the energy shifts. You know there's trouble before Ezra mumbles through the comm “Little bird, stay down. Company approaches.”

Your blood runs cold when a voice responds, already on your frequency, a voice you know. “Greetings friend, we think you can help us out.”

Ezra eyes the pair in front of him, knowing you’d been made was adding a layer of worry to a tense situation, “I'll help if I can but, you're encroaching on my little territory you know how it is. I will be obliged to defend it”

You hear the pair step closer “Actually we're looking for someone,” your eyes slip closed as you stay stock-still, “See they greatly are responsible for our predicament. However,” the voice is clear like they already know you're here, crap, how long did they listen in? “If they were to help us find something we've lost. I can assure their punishment is… swift.”

You swallow as they step to the edge of the pit, Damon glares down at you “Hello darling, long time no see”

Ezra looks shockingly calm, still smiling as you glance at him, “Now then, that is not a polite way to address my partner.”

The other man scoffs, second in command Barlow, “Your partner? Back to your old ways I see.” He looks Ezra up and down. “You’re their type”

You think perhaps you see Ezra's jaw clench before he's grinning “It hardly seems fair for you to make off with my partner, does it? No, not without compensation which unless my ears deceive me, you can't give me without them.”

Before you can blink guns are drawn and you feel like a fish in a barrel, stuck in the pit without Ezra to pull you out.

“You don't know who we are, do you? I suppose in the suits you can't tell but I'd have thought with your… intimate relationship to our engineer you might have figured it out.”

Ezra’s gun doesn't waver for a second but his mind reels. The bandage on your arm, it couldn't be. Surely, he hadn't been so blinded by your company not to notice that. His eyes darken and he thinks, for a moment this man, Damon, realises he's going to die the split second before Ezra shoots.

Barlow’s slower, surprised at him for making the first move but despite his fumble this was a real stand-off. He meets Ezra's glare and they're frozen in time for a moment. Just as he watches the man start to squeeze the trigger and prepare to shoot, he flops sideways. Ezra swings his thrower round you see you, gun in one hand, body turned to the side, still poised from the shot neither of them had seen coming.

Ezra looks as surprised as you feel, even taking aim you hadn't been sure you should save him. But, in the second the men had forgotten about you, you'd let instinct take over and your instinct had chosen Ezra. You hoped it was correct.

Perhaps not. You watch as Ezra’s face darkens, his teeth bared as he levels his pistol at you. “Little bird” his voice makes you shiver despite the heat, “Be so kind as you toss your shooter up here. I think we will be having words.”

You can only nod, what can you do? He says he wants to talk so you'll talk, out of the pit. Where you can stand your ground. You swallow and throw your gun up to him. He gives you a curt nod picking it up and turning away. For a terrifying moment you think he's going to leave you here to die slowly but before you can beg him not to, he returns and tosses a pack down.

“Pack up your gear. We're leaving.” His tone leaves no room for argument so you pack away his equipment as quickly as you can and put it on as you wait and listen to him packing his own, wondering if the shots will draw more trouble.

After all the time spent getting used to his talking, his silence is terrifying. It allows you to think, to panic, to imagine the worst thing he can do. Probably leave you on this planet to rot or be torn to pieces by the locals. You squeeze your eyes shut at the thought.

“Come on now, your elevator awaits” You open them to see he's offering his hand down for you to grab. You do your best to ignore the pistol in the other as you grab a hold and scramble out of the hole you had been sure was going to become your grave. Ezra doesn't loosen his grip on your arm as he hauls you to your feet and strides away from the dig forcing you to trot behind him to keep up.

You stare up at him as he pulls you along trying to read his thoughts. He doesn't look at you scowling straight ahead, his grip vice like and bruising. You don't try to shake him off, you’re sure he's worked out who you are. Your former co-workers hadn't been subtle but you can't gage whether or not this is a walk to the noose.

⧫⧫⧫

Tugging you into the pod he releases your arm and turning to seal the door he finally speaks. “Take off your helmet” His tone sends goosebumps over prickling over your skin so you pull it off and go to set it down on the table. When you turn back, he's right in front of you glaring down eyes dark. It makes you feel tiny. “Show me your arm.”

His words are too concise, so abrupt you hesitate. It's like he's a different person, an enemy you aren't sure you should comply to. Ezra decides you're taking too long and seizes the top of your arms spinning you both around and pinning you against the pod's wall, knee hitched up between your legs keeping you in place. You squirm in a futile attempt to get away and gasp as he unzips the front of your suit and shoves it down to your waist. Ezra breathes heavily as he rakes his eyes up to your body to your face. Doing his best to swallow down his desire, he ignores your own heaving chest and grabs the back of your neck forcing you to look up at him.

“Little bird, take off that measly scrap of fabric and reveal the truth.” You gulp eyes wide fingering the knot of the bandage on your arm. Ezra gives you a little shake. “Do it now.”

So, you do, pulling apart the knot and unwinding it from your arm. You don't look at it, perhaps if you don't see it, it's not really there. Instead, you watch Ezra's face for his reaction, gleaning nothing as he releases your shoulder and grabs your wrist bringing it up for him to see clearly. His brow furrows as he inspects your forearm, a brand of three circles linked like a chain. Kevva, he'd hoped he'd been mistaken. You're frozen as his gaze returns to you, dark eyes furious he crowds around you, filling your senses, body pressing you against the wall. His leg shifts slightly between yours and you almost whimper.

“You've been dishonest, little bird, and I do not appreciate it.” Ezra feels at war, he's furious you lied but he understands why. He's fuming you had been running with a violent, malevolent group of pirates. He doesn't understand why you'd ran after the crash or why you'd turned to him. He wants to know what you have that your crew found so valuable. He wants to know how you're both so hard and so soft. All these thoughts rattle around in his head as he stares at you, your mouth slightly open and your lips wet, until he can only think about how good you feel pressed against him, how delicate you feel under the hand on your neck. How much, despite everything, he wants you. He doesn't notice how close he's gotten to you until he feels the puff of your breath on his face. And then you utterly surprise him.

You can almost hear him think as he stares down at you. You don't want to interrupt but his hold on you is drawing attention to his size, to how much strength and power he holds. It's like he's swirling all around you clouding your brain, filling it with him. So, you let yourself do what you want. You've got nothing to lose. Everything that's yours is in his hands and you can't bring yourself to care. He's leaning closer, bending so with his hand on your neck tilting your head up it's like you’re sharing breath. You close the gap and kiss him.

For a second, he freezes in surprise and then he's kissing you back. Harshly biting your lower lip before shoving his tongue into your mouth. It's desperate and rough and you lick into his mouth in response loving the low moan coming from deep in his chest. He releases your wrist and grasps your hip closing any distance left between you. He grinds into you, the leg between your thighs causing a delicious friction as you whimper into his mouth. He breaks the kiss and stares down at you for a second moving his hands to the bottom of your vest. At your nod he tugs it off and pounces back on you. He rubs his hands up your sides as he kisses you, loving the feeling of how big they are on your frame and how you gasp as he pinches your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. You wriggle against him trying to unfasten his suit and shove it down his arms. He obliges, stepping back he pushing it off and kicks it away leaving him in his underclothes, staring at you, pupils blown wide with lust as he takes you in. Then he's back on you, seizing your jaw and tilting your head up to look at him as his other hand tugs down the remainder of your suit taking your leggings with it.

Eyes look up and down your form, drinking it in as he reaches down to rub a finger over the wetness soaking your underwear. Your mouth drops open and Ezra seizes the opportunity to shove his thumb in your mouth, his grip adjusting to your chin. Smiling as you suck on it.

“Look at you” he coos dragging his nose into your cheek almost mockingly “On display for me, you look good enough to eat.” He punctuates this by biting your neck and pulling your thin underwear taut against your clit just enough you cry out and stand on tiptoe. He grins down at you as you bite down gently on his thumb and then pulls off your underwear letting you kick it aside before stroking his fingers across your slit so gently it makes you buck towards his hand. He moves his hand back to your hip, pinning you back to the wall as he pulls his thumb from your mouth and wraps his hand around your throat, not squeezing just resting there.

“I want you to stay still,” his voice is low and commanding so you nod. “Repeat it back to me, I want to hear you.”

You whimper, “I'll stay still” and he grins before bending to kiss and nip along your jaw above his hand as his other moves back down to your cunt. He circles your clit so gently it's like he isn't really touching you and just as he slightly increases the pressure he draws back. A needy whine falls from your throat but you stay still and he murmurs against your cheek.

“Good little bird, so wet for me. You're positively dripping,” and then just as slowly he eases a finger into. You cry out, so wound tight it's agonising, the contrast between how harshly he gripped you before against his irreverent touches now making you ache for him more than ever. “Sing for me little bird” he demands and then he's really moving, pressing his finger against that spot inside you that makes you see stars, thumb drawing circles over your clit making you moan so loudly it surprises you. 

Ezra watches the flush spread over your skin as your eyes roll back, he doesn't know how he wants you first. Just as you’re getting close, he realises. He wants you begging. 

He forces himself to pull his hand away from you and watches as you shudder with tension eyes opening to look up at him. “Ezra…” your voice is so soft he grins.

You watch him as he raises his hand to his face to lick your juice off it, sucking his finger with a pop. It's so erotic you can only whimper as he smirks down at you. You want to touch yourself, make yourself cum while he watches, but as you lower your hand down he grabs your wrist and moves it back to his shoulder. “Don't misbehave birdie, right now all your pleasure is mine.” You bite your lip.

Then he returns his hand to your pussy, this time shoving two fingers in pumping them as he rubs his thumb against your clit more firmly than before. Your body quivers but his hand against your neck keeps you in place as you moan desperately. As soon as you get close again, he slows down to a stop this time keeping you stuffed with his fingers as you try to get some friction. “Please Ezra,” the tone of your voice shocks you, you've never sounded so needy.

He moves his face away from biting your ear lobe to look at you, “Please Ezra what, little bird? You've got to be clear”

You can't stop the words tumbling out of you, “Please can I cum, please make me cum Ezra”

He smiles almost cruelly, “You sound so exquisite when you beg.” He starts working his thumb again, brushing his lips against yours. The hand on your neck finally starts to squeeze, turning you on more. “Do it again.”

You do, no power could stop you begging for him, saying his name like a prayer. And then you're cumming, your vision goes white as Ezra squeezes your throat firmly, cutting the blood from your brain dragging it out as he shoves a third finger into your wet pussy. 

Ezra swears he's never witnessed anything so magnificent. Your eyes rolling back into your head, mouth open and lips wet, unable to make a sound. How you soak his hand, how you tighten around his fingers. Now all he wants is to find out how many times, how many ways, he can break you apart.

When you begin to squirm, he reluctantly pulls away, you look up only to find he's pulling off his shirt and trousers. Your eyes widen as his cock springs free. You'd known he carried himself like he had nothing to be insecure about but Kevva… he's packing. It's huge and beautiful, slightly curved, a striking vein runner down it. You feel a little more breathless at the sight.

Ezra catches you staring and grins, pressing back against you, grabbing your arse and lifting you against him. You wrap your legs around him as he pins you up against the wall. His cock feels even bigger pressed against your stomach. Ezra grinds against you sucking marks down your neck as he notches himself at your entrance. You whine and claw his shoulders, he's barely into you and you're sure you've never felt so full. “Ezra” your voice is thready “Ezra I don't think you're going to fit.”

He coos in response thrusting shallowly getting slightly further in and making a cry out as you feel yourself drip around his cock. “Don't fret little bird,” he thrusts again getting deeper, kissing you, relishing the feeling of your heat around him, “I know you can take me.”

He thrusts decisively, bottoming out and pushing the air from your lungs. It feels like he's breaking you open, splitting you in two with his cock and you love it. Love the ache as you adjust, love how you can almost feel him in your stomach, love how he has you pinned to the wall supported by those strong hands and his body and totally at his mercy.

You can barely register he's talking as he grinds his hips against your clit. “... squeezing so tight around me. Never in all my time have I gotten so close to Nirvana.”

He waits until you've started to writhe in his arms, just add he'd imagined, begging for him to move. Then he starts long deep thrusts, interspersed by him grinding against your clit making you whimper and moan as you feel his cock drag across your walls.

“Kevva plucked you out of my head and sent you here for me. You're divine, exquisite…” you can't focus on the words, in no time at all you're cumming again. Squeezing him so tight he chokes on his words and kisses you deeply. He doesn't slow down or speed up, keeping his devastating pace until your body starts to relax. Then he nips at your jaw, hooking his arms under your knees and around your back, spreading his palms wide. He steps away from the wall and, slightly afraid he'll drop you, you grab the back of his neck, but you needn't worry. 

Now with you impaled on his cock suspended in the air by his arms, he truly begins to ruin you. Lifting you up and slamming you back he watches your cunt take him, watches how your breasts bounce, watches you throw your head back in a silent scream. He bites into your neck leaving a mark as he sets a brutal pace. Seeing you like this, feeling you like this, has stolen his vocabulary so he curses and growls as he watches, totally enraptured by how well you take him. He thinks maybe he tells you but he can't be sure.

Ezra’s still talking his sentences shorter but still as dirty, the way he praises you makes you moan and combined with his he is destroying you; you don't think you'll ever experience something this good again and then you don't think anything much at all. Just Ezra, his strength, his beautiful words, how perfectly he's fucking you.

Ezra knows he can't last much longer, not in this heaven but he's determined to make you cum again before he does just to feel it. So, he moves you slightly in his arms until he hits that bit which takes your cries even higher. He grins as you dig your nails into his shoulders, the slight pain both grounding him and making him lose his mind.

You feel so overwhelmed and overstimulated that when he adjusts his thrusting you can't help the few tears escaping as you wail. He just pulls you slightly closer and licks them up before staring down and watching how your pussy stretches to take him. You’re so close again you're sure you might explode if you don't cum, or if you do. And then you do, you can't even make a sound as your whole body goes rigid and Ezra doesn't stop pounding you. Instead, you hear him growl and curse and his thrusts get faster and shorter.

Ezra had never experienced anything hotter. The way you threw your head back and took it as he fucked you like a ragdoll. The feeling of you clenching around him. How you soaked him, the sound of your fucking would stay with him forever. And then he's cumming, he bites down on your shoulder groaning into your skin as he releases. His mind is wonderfully blank as he squeezes you against himself and fills you up with a dozen shallow thrusts.

He doesn't release you right away, just holds you to his chest as he turns to lean against the wall cock still in you. Blissful in the moments before his thoughts start buzzing again. When you can move you look up at Ezra, he meets your eyes, gaze totally unreadable. He reluctantly releases you with a groan and grabs his shirt as he kneels and begins to clean off your combined juices dripping down your legs. Seeing him on his knees taking care of you threatens to give you hope which you tamped down. He didn't know the truth yet and he had readily thrown you out once before. When he's done, he stands and tosses the shirt to the side, tugs on his soft under trousers as you pull on your own clothes. The silence feels like a giant pit between you and you glare at your feet unsure how to start this important conversation.

To your surprise Ezra gently pinches your chin and tilts your head up to look at him. “We've still got much to discuss, little bird.” At your nod he pulls your hand into his ignoring how small and delicate it feels and gently tugs you towards the burrow. He has to know the truth.

⧫⧫⧫

You sit next to each other, his back against the wall, you sitting forward nervously running your fingers over the brand on your arm. Ezra just watches you, waits for you to explain and hopes you aren't a threat he'll have to get rid of after you've shared such intimacy.

“I don't… I won't come off like a very good person or partner when I tell you this. So just listen… please?”

Ezra nods, “None of us can be considered a good person, our humanity is dependent on our survival” he sighs, “Spin your tale, I'll remain in silence until it's done and keep my judgement of our partnership till it's completion”

You swallow, “I fixed a ship, that's how this whole mess started. We were leaving a dig and something had gone wrong which would have forced us to land. But I suited up and fixed it in zero G. It was completely stupid and shouldn't have worked but it did and we made it back to the dock. It wasn't till we'd sold off all our gems and separated that I was cornered. Turns out the malfunction wasn't an accident and by fixing it I'd cost them a lot of money in what they would have stolen from us. They reckoned I owed them and… they aren't people you want to owe”

You close your eyes and Ezra watches you tense. He'd like nothing more than to pull you into his arms but as he reaches for you, he clenches his fist. He needs to hear you out.

“They went through the rest of my team to get to me…” oh, Ezra understands they'd totally isolated you. “Well, they worked out since I could fix their brakes, I could mess up the ships in ways that couldn't be fixed without an emergency landing. They branded me there and then. Didn't even tell me how long I'd have to work to balance what I owed; probably thought I'd be dead by then.” You look down at your arm and frown.

When you look back at Ezra, his eyes are sharp, watching you intensely. “That scars old, little bird, how long did you dutifully aid their robberies.” Robberies of prospectors, people like him, people who'd been like you.

You look away, jaw clenched, “Long enough for it to get easy.”

Ezra doesn't move behind you, doesn't speak. You can't look at him.

“And then I couldn't anymore, I saw what I'd become and I hated it.” Your nails dig into your arm. “No one's good out in the fringe. But I was worse. I can't make up for what I did… can't take it back, can't return lives, possessions any of that. But I could stop, bring my crew down too. We used a distress beacon to lure in the other ships and…” you laugh “This time as I boarded after dealing with the other ship. I dunno, I just snapped and blew our engine too.”

Your mouth twists at the memory, “The pilot saw and I… when I was done, I just thought one down. I didn't want to die myself, that’s the easy way out, so I did my best to pull the chutes, hoping I'd play dead and hitch a ride out. Well, you know the rest.”

You stare straight ahead as a tense silence follows not daring to see Ezra glare at you. You don't see his soft eyes looking you up and down, his mind reeling. Had he known this when you’d first met, he would have shot you without question and left you to rot, your presence nothing more than a risk to his survival. But now, you’d saved him, talked with him, he’d gotten to know you. How you drink your caf black saying you’re “sweet enough”, how you look in the morning, how you laugh, how you moan. He knows he can’t kill you now, but you are a threat. He doesn’t know what to do. “Why are they searching for you? What do you have that they want? Your friend mentioned something.”

You laugh humorlessly, “They don't know where the other ship crashed, I was in the pilot’s seat, so no one else could see it go down. Fat lot of good it'll do them wrecked here.”

There's a bang on the side of the pod, “Shite” Ezra mumbles, “Our quixotic friends have returned.”

⧫⧫⧫

The wait for them to leave seems to take hours, the silence making your heart pound and your thoughts race over what you can do now. Ezra will definitely want you gone, only a mad man would keep you around with your history. Perhaps back to the original plan, see if you can mend the other ships escape pod and get the hell off this planet.

By the time the locals have decided your pod is empty, your plan is set. You stand, not looking back at Ezra. “I'll get scarce, I know I'm a problem waiting to happen.”

You grab your bag feeling in the pocket for your ring, a memory of a home you can't return to, old gods you're no longer sure are there. You look down at it as you step out of the burrow not noticing Ezra follow. You shove it into your suit pocket.

He is stumped for words as he watches you grab your possessions that have become scattered around the pod. He sees how your lives have become enmeshed. Scraps from your notebook scattered around where you'd played hangman or left notes and reminders for each other, items of clothing he watches you fail to pack, that damn terrible caf on the workbench.

He's not sure that he'll ever get all the pieces of you out of the pod, out of himself. You're under his skin, the very smell of you making his heart beat with more determination. As you reach for your helmet, he grabs your hand and finally you look up at him.

“Don't leave, I don't want you to leave.”

It's so simple but it means so much more and he thinks you maybe realise as you look up at him tears in your eyes. “I don't want to go.”

And then he kisses you. It's slower than before but no less fierce sparking a deep need in your chest. Gently now, he pulls off your suit as if he's still persuading you to stay before running his hands up your arms and down your back and sides like he's memorising your shape. When he kisses you again it's hungry, intense, he's trying to put words he's afraid to speak into it and it totally wiped your mind as you let him pull you back into his burrow.

Then he's peeling all your clothes off you. His touch is irreverent like he's unwrapping a precious artifact. He tugs you to lie down and settles between your legs pulling off his own shirt. He balances his weight on his arm above your head to nip at your lips, you reach up to run your hands up his chest, feeling him shudder as you gently rake your nails over the skin.

His other hand is squeezing your breast and pinching your nipple before seizing your hip and pulling you flush against him. The friction of his trousers against you, combined with how he's surrounding you, invading all your senses, is overwhelming.

“You are something else entirely,” he's kissing his way down your body, sucking purple bruises as he goes, seeming determined to mark every inch of you. “I could travel the whole breadth of this hostile galaxy and never find a sight as breath-taking as you laid out before me, a divine meal worthy of gods”

His words turn you on more as his ministrations make their way down to your legs. He bites your inner thigh almost too hard, making you squeal and jerk away but he grabs your hips and pulls you back, laving his tongue over the slight indent left by his teeth. You don't know how he's done it, not hours ago he railed you into oblivion and somehow, he has wound you tight all over again. It's like he's playing an instrument, plucking your strings both hard and soft so you melt.

His eyes meet yours, dark and hungry and he holds your gaze as he licks up your slit, his tongue wide as flat. You moan softly as he smiles, “Straight from the source your essence is even more delectable.” He stares at your pussy, seemingly fascinated by how it's fluttering around nothing, totally rapt by a droplet of your arousal sliding its way down.

You whimper at him, and try to buck your hips in his grip, desperate for him to do anything other than stare. He chuckles at you, “So willing to give yourself to me,” then he spits on your cunt. You gasp, half from shock and half from how much it turned you on. He grins as you tense and dives in.

Ezra eats you out like water from a well after crossing a desert. It feels as if he's writing the words, you’re stopping him saying all over your clit as you cry his name. His eyes closed he reaches up and seizes your hands, pulling you closer and settling his elbows over your hips keeping you still and at his mercy as he moans against you. Your eyes close as you feel sparks travel up and down your spine as he shoves his tongue into you making you whine but then he pulls away. Rubbing his cheek on your thigh, his beard tickling you.

“I want you to look at me little bird.” You can't help but obey his command instantly opening your eyes to see his pupils blown wide as he smirks. “You'd do just about anything for me to let you cum, wouldn't you? Don't worry your pretty head. I want you to cum in my mouth.”

Then he's back on you, sucking your clit between his teeth, you gasp his name trying to squirm away. his eyes piercing you, his mouth on you, his hands covering yours, his arms holding you down. It fills your head with him totally overpowering you and then you cum.

You go totally rigid, you're still looking at Ezra but your vision has gone so white you can't see him, just feel him moan against your cunt as you soak his tongue. Even as you start attempting to twist away, he continues, switching between sucking and licking at you as his strong arms pin you down. You cry out at the overstimulation, shuddering from it, tears leaking from your eyes and in no time at all you're thrown over the edge again. Cumming so hard your mind is totally wiped of anything but Ezra.

This time he grants you a reprieve, sitting up he watches your chest heave as you slowly come back into your body. He's lost for words, seeing you like this is better than anything he'd ever imagined and he still wants more, wants to ring every drop of pleasure out of you. And when you smile up at him, totally blissed out and willing, he's sure he'd do almost anything to keep you.

He doesn't put it into words though. Instead, he crawls over you seizing your jaw “Open that pretty mouth little bird,” something about how you so readily obey him twists in his chest and makes his cock twitch. He ignores it and bends close spitting into your mouth. You can taste yourself in it and it sparks your desire all over again.

He can't hold in a groan as you swallow, still smiling, his head seems too empty so he kisses you. It's fiery, filled with lust as you kiss him back and wrap your legs around him reaching down to pull off his trousers, he pulls back to kick them away as his cock springs free, it's hot and red as you wrap you hand around it, not even able to meet finger and thumb and squeeze slightly making him growl and bite along your jawline. “Tell me little bird, what would you will me to do?”

You meet his gaze, “Fuck me.” he groans into your neck, “Please.”

He watches your face as he positions himself at you entrance, “Kevva,” it's like he's not really talking to you, “I've never borne witness to anything so magnificent as your perfect cunt soaking me,” he slowly pushes his way in. It makes you whimper and him growl and you watch the tension in his neck as he restrains himself from ruining you, “Fuck you're tight.” His language is getting simpler as he starts losing control. His soft eyes beg you to let him move as his jaw clenches and you can't help but give in. 

“Please Ezra, move! fuck me”

The noise he makes is inhuman as he starts drilling into you. He shoves one of your knees up over his shoulder, deepening his thrusts making you cry out as he shreds against your walls. All he can think is how hot you are, how wet, how tight, how perfectly you take him. He's shoving up against your g shot with every thrust, coarse hairs grinding on your clit, you feel totally at his mercy to do nothing but take it and it may be the best sex you've ever experienced, ever will experience.

He looks beautiful, your juices still glistening on his face, brow furrowed and eyes half lidded but so piercing you might think he was furious if not for how in-between curses he's describing you, what he thinks of you. You aren't sure he even knows he's talking and the need in his words drives you higher and higher despite how spent you feel, how much you don't think you can cum again. And then you do. Kevva the way you clamp down on him clawing his back makes him lose his mind, he shoves both your knees up to your chest bending over you to bite you lower lip. The change in angle adds more friction, his thrusts get shorter, faster. Ezra cums so hard he can't think, you watch his eyes roll into his head, the groan he makes cuts off his own speech as he shoves himself as deep into you as he can get and releases. 

Ezra’s ears are still ringing when he manages to roll himself off you. Both of you are panting, as you stare at the roof of the pod and try to muster the words. Naturally, Ezra succeeds first. “Little Bird, I didn't know experiences such as that could be bestowed upon men like me.” You can only make a little noise in reply as he takes your hand and silence falls again.

Finally, when your breath is caught and you can both think again, he pulls you to his chest and wraps his arms around you resting his chin on the top of your head.

“Little bird, I'm starting to agree our dig may be bust. Trouble is biting our ankles and I should have listened earlier. Let's pillage what we can to fix the pod and get going. The dig is almost done, even split it'll be a while before I need to pick up another job.” You feel a sting at how quickly Ezra had returned to talking business but you do your best to brush it off. There's nothing wrong with some shagging between friends and it's no reason for him to feel the same fluttering in his chest that you do in yours.

“Right then we should travel light, get everything we need and come back. The fix won't take long, we can be gone in two days.” Two days left with Ezra makes you feel a little sad, you suppose you'd just gotten used to his company.

Ezra smiles grimly, “If we're lucky.”

You turn and roll over enjoying how he follows, wrapping you in his arms, tangling your legs like he can't bear to be separate. “I do have a question for you if you don't mind?”

You shrug, “Depends what it is.”

“What is that strange ring you carry but don't put on.”

“It's… it was a gift when I left home. It's supposed to be my payment.”

Ezra's mind casts back to how you paid honour to the dead, even those he certainly didn't think deserved a boatman. Saving them from a potential purgatory. But you didn't wear yours.

“Little bird, forgive my bluntness but curiosity is driving me to ask. Why don't you wear it?”

You squeeze your eyes closed, forcing away images of your past, grounded in Ezra's warm grip. “It's,” you sigh, “It's just too heavy.”

Ezra can feel how tense you've become and fights off the heavy guilt threatening to settle in his chest. You think yourself deserving of the hundred-year wait wandering the shore, think the loneliness is just. He kisses the back of your neck. “We should let our dreams take us lest we attract more trouble. It is salient we are well rested.”

You sigh, relaxing against him despite yourself. Long since exhausted by the day and his attentions, you let yourself drift off. Faintly feeling a hand caress your cheek, but you could have imagined it.

⧫⧫⧫

Waking up with someone warm in his arms is something Ezra could get used to. He tells you as much but you brush it off, someone isn't necessarily you after all. Ezra talks as you pack but he avoids the subject of you, of you both. He didn't want to scare you off, he tells himself, his flighty little bird. But he knows he's lying to himself, just being a coward, afraid of your reaction. He avoids meeting your eye until, helmets on, you both stand by the door. Taking a moment of peace before heading into the waste. He takes your hand seeking reassurance as much as trying to give it. You meet his eyes looking a little afraid but determined. He squeezes it tight before letting go and opening the door.

The walk East is easy enough, a pretty straight shot over flat ground. The only real problem being navigating the increasingly dense petrified forest. Ezra talks continuously, but you're grateful, glad it isn't awkward between you and enjoying his descriptions of other worlds he's visited. Where instead of breathless death and grey, there's vivid greens and blues of plants and flowers. Where the beauty is just as dangerous as this blank world. And, slowly, you start to talk too. Really talk. You describe a world that, to you, had seemed to be entirely made up of a casino, and the trouble you had gotten into there.

“Too rich for my blood,” Ezra chuckles and you agree.

You don't tell him about your home, not yet. But being able to talk, to laugh about something you'd done, feels freeing. Like a weight has been lifted ever so slightly off your shoulders.

You’re both grateful the walk is uneventful but you can't relax as the looming silhouette of the other spaceship appears through the trees. It's still too early for hope.

As you approach you see that the crew had successfully pulled their parachutes, but too late. The side of the ship had caved in where it had skidded across the earth, giving you both a way in. When you stop Ezra’s looking at you, “Any chance of survivors, little bird?”

You just shrug. “I doubt it after this. They were running a skeleton crew.” You wince slightly at the double entendre, hoping you have the time to find their bodies and pay their dues.

Ezra raises an eyebrow at you. “On a ship this big? That is most peculiar.”

“I guess, I didn't get a chance to think about it at the time.”

You go over the list again, 5 items, 5 areas. All small enough to carry in your packs. To yourself you add another item, just in case you get the chance.

“We stick together, watch each other’s backs.” You nod in agreement and you both step into the ship.

⧫⧫⧫

There's a faint dripping noise, like a clock ticking. It sets off your nerves as you leave the light of the suns. Inside is cast in red, a good sign the electrics haven't been fried, but totally unsettling. It casts humanoid shadows across the grated walls seemingly flickering with every step. Ezra had gone totally silent but his presence behind you is reassuring. Together you pry open the first door.

Inside has the same red light but the weapons board flashes at you telling you it's still live which is strange. You mumble it to Ezra. “These things usually shut down first after a crash, they drain loads of power that's usually diverted out.”

He frowns at you. “Mayhaps a malfunction? It looks like a rough crash.”

“Yeah. Probably.” But it niggles at the back of your brain. All you can do right now is ignore it so you wrench the panel out from the wall to the side and stick your arm in. Feeling around, you brush your fingers up against the dotted cylinder you need. These old ships had a habit of hiding important components in baffling locations, apparently to protect them in a crash which you do suppose this has, but you suspect it's to confuse novice engineers and pillagers alike. 

Ezra is keeping a sharp eye on the door but he can't help but enjoy watching you work, grumbling about what a stupid place this was for a fuse break and how it would have been harder to wreck their engine had it actually been where all the ships power came from. He grins at you and you smile back tugging the, whatever it was, out of the wall. He tosses his pack over to you.

“I'll get this one birdie,” making you roll your eyes but you gently place it in and hand it back. 

“Take care of that.”

“I'll cradle it as if it were a new-born.” He says so sincerely you can't help but snort.

“Don't worry too much, ships like these are made hardy, they don't just fry things like your pod.” He scowls playfully at you as you head back to the corridor.

“I will not hear a negative word about her, we've been together for years.”

The ship groans around you as if it's a living creature as you head deeper in. The maze of corridors makes Ezra feel turned around but you seem to know where to go and he follows dutifully. The next stop is a storage closet smaller than his little burrow.

Inside is a collection of boxes from which you produce two tiny discs. You look at Ezra, “I doubt they'll mind me taking a spare, these things are expensive.” Still not being entirely sure what everything you're searching for is, he just shrugs,

The moment of ease sputters out when you enter comms. There's a buzzing that sets your teeth on edge, someone's been on the radio. Ezra clicks it off but the silence is suddenly oppressive. Trying hard to hear any sign of life you scan the dark corners of the space. 

“We don't know how long this has been on.” Ezra’s voice is steady but there's an edge you know too well. You agree all the same, hurrying to rip the tubing out from under the console. The blinking lights shut off with a hum as Ezra takes it from you, looping it together and shoving it into his pack. You don't argue.

Two items left, you'd saved the cockpit and the engine till last, both at the opposite end of the ship. 

The door to the cockpit is open. you look at Ezra, his jaw is set glaring into it. You head in first moving swiftly to the control panel to the side to start pulling the whole thing apart for one measly chip. He disappears into the shadows to search the room. It's too big, too many places to hide, he thinks to himself trying to picture the best place for an ambush.

He finds one body, curled in on itself as if tossed into the corner. The next is under a nav table, arms over its head. The final one is the hardest to look at, in the pilot seat, hand still grasping the parachute release. He swallows as he takes in this futile effort to survive, picturing the final moments as the ground rises to meet them, the hopelessness.

He spins when he hears your voice.

“Wait, wait!”

“You should have stayed away-“

Ezra doesn't even think, he just shoots and the man with a blade at your throat drops. He didn't even know he could draw that fast. He fights off the adrenaline, calming his breathing as he approaches you. Your eyes are wide with shock and you take a deep breath looking up at him.

“Thank you, Ezra.”

He just wants to pull you close, hold you against him, protect you with his body. With the suits and helmets, it would be uncomfortable so he grabs your hand and pulls it to his chest.

“Think nothing of it.”

“I didn't think there could be any survivors.” At that he examined the body. Shit, the suit, the emblem, the skull etched into the glass of his helmet.

“That, little bird, is because there aren't any. It appears that the locals are here.”

You squeeze his hand. “We've got to hurry.”

He nods, “Give me three coins.”

He’s found them. You'd already known they'd be dead but the confirmation sits heavily over you. You hand him the coins.

“You finish here, I'll take care of them. Don't worry.”

The kindness he's showing by doing it for you aches in your chest. You take the frustration out on the unsuspecting control panel. Tearing into it, pulling parts out, desperately trying to get a grip on your emotions and breathe a sigh of relief when you emerge, chip in hand. No one has ever extracted one so quickly you reckon. You shove it in your pack.

Heading to Ezra you take his hand, try to convey thanks through the touch alone. Thanks for saving you, thanks for not making you bear this burden solitarily, thanks for just being company after so long alone. You look up at him, he's chewing his words again but doesn't speak so you turn and lead him out.

In the engine room you seize a battery and yank it from the wall, grateful the lights stay on. Ezra takes it from you. “Don't argue birdie I'm bigger than you.”

He's cut off by a horn echoing through the ship. You swallow. 

Taking his hand again, you both creep out of the room. Every sound is too loud, you curse your boots, the rattle of your tools, your own harsh breathing. You can't fail now, you're so close. At the sound of footsteps, you pull Ezra through a door into a room with bunks, closing the door as quietly as you can, you both hold your breath. As they pass the door his grip tightens on yours so much you feel the heat of his hand through your gloves. His eyes scan your face, like he's trying to memorise what you look like. You realise you’re doing the same to him.

When they pass you glance around the room as Ezra slumps against the door his eyes shut tightly. As you let go of him you see something in the corner of your eye. No fucking way. It's a gem case, unassuming on the outside but far bigger than the one Ezra carried. Item number six.

You shove it into your bag.

⧫⧫⧫

Neither of you seem to breath for the rest of your journey through the ship. Eyes and ears too peeled to do much else. The second you see the light outside you swallow. You say a prayer to yourself as you creep towards it.

The light blinds you as you step out. Something shoves you to the side, you hit the ground hard knocking the wind out of you as you try to see what hit you. The second your eyes adjust to the light you see Ezra trying to knock back one of the locals, trying to gain space to draw. You wrestle your pistol out of your holster and aim but you can't shoot. Their dance is too close and you're afraid to hit Ezra. 

It all happens in slow motion. The stranger thrusts his spear into Ezra's stomach and pulls it out. He cries out stumbling back giving you a straight shot. You fire the same moment as the local brings his spear down on Ezra’s helmet.

You shoot too late. 

Ezra drops back against the ship sliding to sit. Shattered glass glitters over the ground around you threatening to cut your knees as you crawl to him. His helmet is shattered.

“No no no no no” you press on the wound in his stomach tugging your pack off your back to get the med kit. “We've got to go, there's going to be more of them.”

He puts a hand over yours. “Little bird, I'm afraid my adventure has come to its conclusion”

You look at his face. “No Ezra! I can close this for now, we've got time. We can make it back.” His eyes are wide and sad, wet with the threat of tears. “Don't look at me like that!” There's desperation in your voice.

“You've got to go. Relieve yourself of my burden, you can repair the vessel and get away by yourself. You don't need me.”

“Shut up! I can't just leave you here.” You push his hands away and pull out a gun of sealing foam “Don't fucking argue with me, we've got so close you can't just give up.” Ignoring his arguments, you press the nozzle through his suit and fill his wound. He lets out a groan. As quick as you can, you pull your pack back on and stand seizing Ezra's arms and heaving him to his feet. He gives a short shout of pain but doesn't protest as you hook his arm over your shoulder for support.

You start to walk like this as the suns begin to dip. Keeping your pistol in your free hand you scan around you. The dead trees provide good cover but they also give any attackers the element of surprise so you do your best to listen out whilst you support Ezra.

It's a little difficult with his talking but you can't complain, not when it means he's still alive. But he's getting heavy, putting more weight on you, you don't know how long you can hold him up. Just as you're beginning to feel truly weak his topic of conversation changes.

“Little bird, it has been an exponential honour to be enclosed within your company. To have your trust if only a little. Kevva, the chance to learn your body the way I got to was a treasure worth more than any gem I could find. I only wish I could learn your mind just as intimately, to possess the knowledge of what makes you laugh, cry, your favourite food, favourite music. I'd cherish every drop of yourself you'd let me have until I could carry a vault of you with me”

“Ezra, don't…”

“The opportunity is being stolen from me, I both resent it and I'm so grateful for the time I've had. Little bird, don't let my soliloquy deceive you. I mean every word.”

You can't stop moving, but you grab onto him a little tighter. Letting yourself squeeze your eyes closed just for a moment to fight off the tears. There's no guarantee he'll survive, no hope yet, no point admitting feelings just to let him die. It would hurt too much.

You keep walking. Reminding Ezra to breath as slow as he can. Holding yourself together just to keep him upright.

Then you see it, your pod, through the trees, dark against the burning red sky. 

There are two locals at the door. They turn.

Before you can think to react, Ezra pushes you aside as a spear careens where you'd just been stood. Drawing before you can blink, he fires twice. The locals fall. And then, so does he.

⧫⧫⧫

You aren't sure if you're saying his name out loud or just in your head. You roll him into his back and try to shake him awake. He doesn't even stir. 

Instead, you seize the straps of his pack and use them to drag him towards your pod.

Your muscles are screaming after supporting him for so long but you don't let up, drawing strength from who knows where.

How did the pod seem so close minutes ago? Now it's miles away.

You don't know when you started crying.

You don't stop moving, can't stop until you've managed to pull him inside and seal the door. You yank off your helmet, tossing it aside and falling to your knees next to him pressing your ear to his chest, desperately trying to hear his heart through his suit.

It's dead silent.

That's when you scream. Tears streaming down your face you bring your fist down on his chest as hard as you can.

“Breath you bastard! Take a fucking breath!” You're sobbing now, “You can't just leave me here, leave me all alone. Not after all this. Not when we got so close.”

You curl over him pressing your face to his, your tears dripping onto him leaving tracks through the dust and blood on his skin. “You can't leave me alone,” it's barely a whisper. “Ezra.” You say his name over and over again like a prayer.

And then his chest moves. 

You don't know whether you should laugh. You just keep bawling as you tear off his suit and grab his hand.

He doesn't wake up but it's enough, you squeeze his warm hand for another second before wiping at your face and getting your med kit. “Let's see what I can do about this wound hmm?”

⧫⧫⧫

Ezra hears someone calling his name. But they seem so far away. He tries to move towards the voice but it's like moving through syrup. He lets himself sink back.

⧫⧫⧫

The wound is deep and spurts with blood as you pull out the foam, painting your hands in the same red as the sky outside. Pursing your lips, you apologise to him, hoping he doesn’t feel the pain. Cleaning the wound takes time but as far as you can tell the spear managed to avoid all his organs so you seal it up as best you can. The lack of oxygen is what has you truly worried, who knows what damage could have been done in the time it took you to drag him to the pod. With your medication he might heal but you can’t be sure. You fight off the thoughts of what you’d have to do if he never did wake up. Would you be able to bury him?

You sleep curled to his side, a hand on his shoulder. It’s fitful, plagued by nightmares of waking up to find him cold. Every time you wake up crying, you watch his chest rise and fall and pray, he’ll make his way back to you.

⧫⧫⧫

The next thing he hears is a clang followed by a curse, then it's silent again

⧫⧫⧫

Ezra made it through the night. To distract yourself from worrying he might never wake, you wrap him up warm and begin to repair the pod. It’s slow work but its methodical movements help regulate your breathing. Until you hear a grunt. You drop whatever you were working on and swear to yourself as you kneel by him. But he’s no more present than before. Perhaps you had imagined it. Prayed so hard you’d began torturing yourself. You look over him, how could you go on without him. No one to make you laugh, or care what happens to you. It’s justice you suppose, just another thing for you to feel guilty about. You suppose you’ll go on just to keep feeling that guilt.

Again, you barely sleep.

⧫⧫⧫

And then, as if surfacing from a dive, Ezra opens his eyes. His back hurts. He works out why as, slowly, he identifies the ceiling above him. He's lying on the floor with nothing more than a pillow and a blanket that's been tucked all around him up to his neck. He wrestles his arms free, stretching them above his head and then prodding his stomach, it's tender but the wound is closed. Then he sits up with a grunt.

You're stretching up to try and pull a ration bar of the top shelf of your measly kitchen cupboard. You swear and turn to find something to climb on and then you see Ezra.

He's sitting up, grinning from ear to ear. You nearly jump a foot into the air and then you’re frozen to the spot. He chuckles to himself and clambers to his feet, it looks difficult but you aren't sure you can move to help so you stay put as he supports himself along the wall and approaches you.

“Little bird, you are the most incredible, fascinating, stubborn creature I have ever laid my eyes upon.” And then he's pulling you into his chest, wrapping you in such a grip it's a little difficult to breath but you don't mind. You just hug him back, if gently, very aware of how he'd recently been stabbed. He buries his nose in your hair. “How long was I out?”

“Three days, I managed to melt down some meds to inject you so you… well, so you actually healed. Oh, and then I fixed the pod but it didn't feel safe to take off what with you having a hole in you.”

He laughs, you can feel it rolling through his body and it makes you grin. It's so alive.

“May I also ask why I was on the floor?” That's your cue to laugh to. 

“Do you honestly think I could lift you onto the cot?”

“Frankly little bird, I didn't think you could have got me to the pod. You are certainly a force to be reckoned with and not one to be underestimated.”

You close your eyes and breath him in. “I almost didn't make it.” He just shushes you running his hands up and down your sides.

“No point wondering what could have been birdie. You saved me.” You look up at him, his eyes are wet as he smiles down at you. “What I did to deserve it may evade my knowledge forever, but it must have been spectacular.”

You feed Ezra and then force him to stay still for the day. Even as he protests you don't really think he minds, finally getting an opportunity to finish reading ‘The Power’. You sleep curled into his side.

The next day you leave.

⧫⧫⧫

Two days floating in space before the station slings back to pick you up. The sense of relief is immense. Ezra is in the seat next to you, any other person telling such a graphic tale about a flight home wrong would've sprung anyone with nerves but you just grin. You made it, you both made it.

“Even split, little bird? Although, I can't say I find the idea of us separating particularly appealing.”

You grin, “Me neither, although I do maintain the even split, you save my arse, I save yours.”

He smirks, “I'll have your arse anytime” you smack his knee with what was formerly his copy of ‘Perfume’. He scowls playfully, tossing his own book aside and tugging you into his lap.

And then looks totally bemused as your mouth drops open, “Holy shit I can't believe I forgot!” You hop off him and he grumbles at you but watches curiously wondering what you'd forgotten that was so important. You kneel to open your pack, pulling out a gem case. A huge gem case.

“Where in that abhorrent hell did you manage to acquire that?”

“I think it was why I was told to bring down that ship, I picked it up in the bunk room.”

It's locked but you happily spend the next half an hour gently taking apart one screw at a time. Ezra watches you the whole time, not even thinking about your bounty, just enjoying how you hum to yourself and smile every time a screw comes loose, batting his hands away every time he grabs at you. It's domestic.

You meet his eye as the last screw comes loose and he joins you kneeling on the floor. “Let's not get our hopes up” you say, “We've got more than enough to last a while whatever happens.” He nods and you pull the case open.

His jaw drops. “That is remarkable.”

You meet his eye and laugh. You've never seen him look so surprised. There are three gems inside, each one about the size of your head.

He lets out a huff of laughter “I’m beginning to suspect there was nefarious business afoot on that ship…”

“Ezra?”

“Mmhm?”

“I think I'd like to go somewhere with a sea.”

“Little bird, I suspect that can be arranged” Then he kisses you, pulling you against him.

You wriggle back, “Even split?” He just grins and bites at your ear.

In no time at all you’re in his lap as you pull off each other’s clothes. He rubs his beard against your bare neck to make you giggle as he nibbles it, hands roaming all over you. You nip his collar bone making him groan, it flips a switch in him and seconds later he’s grabbing your hips to position you over his cock.

He lowers you down so slowly it makes you squirm and whimper and beg him to move.

He grins at you, catlike, “We’ve got all the time in the world, little bird. And I intend to use it”

⧫⧫⧫

Hours later you wake. Ezra is snoring quietly into your neck tempting you to rouse him. You’re thirsty though, so, reluctantly, you peel his arms off you to get a glass of water. As you return your toe catches on your suit where it lies on the floor. As you reach to move it your ring drops out of the pocket, clinking quiet onto the ground.

You bend to pick it up and look at Ezra, then back at the ring. Had you not gone through all those years in that gang of pirates, you’d never have found him, never got to save his arm or his life. You both might be dead. You had been right; you couldn’t change your past. But you’d never know what else might have happened. There’s still guilt, there always will be. But you feel a little lighter.

You put on the ring and return to Ezra. He pulls you against his chest without waking.

You smile.

~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @engineeredfiction @mothandpidgeon @sleep-tight1

[quietlyimplode]

The Way Home

Whumptober2021 (Masterlist) (Chapter 6)

Chapter 7 (Day 17 - Dread)

———-

(Gif not mine- warnings for shit coping mechanisms and safe wording)

—-

She’s fine.

She tells herself over and over.

She goes to work, comes back to the empty house, the shadows long and ominous. She turns on all the lights but it doesn’t help.

Hiding in the bedroom, she chastises herself for being weak, and then makes herself sit in the lounge room, Tv on.

It doesn’t matter.

.

She doesn’t sleep.

Can’t sleep.

Won’t sleep.

Doesn’t want the nightmares. She doesn’t know what happens to the time but it goes all the same.

She tells Maria that things are fine, and lies that dinner is pizza.

Maria tells her that Clint’s missing out, and she agrees with a smiley faced emoji before turning the phone off.

She should reply to Clint, but she doesn’t have the energy, and she feels angry that he left without her.

Let him worry.

Let him suffer like she is.

She takes her knife from the back of the couch and twirls it in her hand.

.

He’s back in the morning. Days are easier she thinks, as she leaves for work, for clearance and rehab.

Evenings and Nights seem hard and lonely as she has to contend with herself; her thoughts, and the intrusiveness of memories and ideals from childhood.

Be better, she tells herself.

Fatigue follows her around like a cloud, ominous and looming, but when she rests it doesn’t feel restful.

It’s 1am, and she decides to get a drink, padding to the kitchen avoiding the looming of the rafters.

The glass slips from shaking hands, and shatters on the floor.

.

Clint knows he shouldn’t have gone.

She won’t message back, won’t answer his calls, and even though Maria tells him she seems ok, he knows that she is a master at playing that role.

He just wants to see her.

.

The mission is successful, and he returns on the third day, just like he said he would. He returns to an empty house.

Broken glass on the floor.

Dread drops lead into his stomach as he searches for her in the house.

She’s nowhere.

.

“She’s gone,” he says, frustrated.

“When did she last contact you?” He’s angry she didn’t even check on her at home, especially knowing everything that happened in the last week.

Maria scrolls her phone.

“Yesterday. She said she was fine and just going to bed, she left here late. Clint; she looked fine,” Maria justifies.

“Yeah, the worlds best spy says she’s fine after being tortured in her own home, and you just take her at her word,” Clint says sarcastically; knowing it’s not fair as he hangs up the phone.

He calls her again, but it goes straight to voicemail.

.

She’s on the rooftop, knife twirling between her fingers, knees pulled to chest. She’s resting against the chimney.

He knows, she knows he’s there. But she doesn’t acknowledge his presence.

They’ve been here before.

“Natasha,” he says gently.

The knife twirls again.

He swallows hard.

She looks so tired.

“Natasha,” he tries again, “come back to me, ok? I’m here, ok?”

He moves up closer and she holds up the knife.

“Don’t.” She says dangerously.

He stops.

She looks mean, and he knows how dangerous she is with a knife.

Standing on the roof, he feels the breeze of the day wash over him, as it moves to her, making wisps of her hair float.

He doesn’t know what to do. She’s cognisant enough to tell him to leave but bad enough that he can’t.

He shrugs. Sits. Waits.

.

Night falls and they remain in the same holding pattern. She hasn’t said a word but shivers in the cold, knife still twirling to her own beat.

He’s startled when she stands, makes her way past him and goes back inside.

Clint follows her at a distance, and gets to cleaning the glass off the floor.

She doesn’t talk to him but watches as he puts it in the bin.

.

“What do you want to eat?” He asks tentatively. Opening the fridge he cringes. There’s nothing inside.

“Nat. Have you eaten anything?” He tries to keep the judgement out of his voice but he knows she catches it.

She turns around on the couch and ignores him.

He orders pizza.

Tells them to knock and leave it at the door. No use both of them being under water.

He opens it on the couch, and passes it across. She looks at him with daggers as he holds it there waiting.

She takes a piece.

“Everything feels out of control,” she admits.

“Sometimes it’s hard to breathe.”

He gets it.

He knows.

He’s been feeling the same.

“You can feel as as awful as you want, just eat the goddamn pizza.” He knows it sounds flippant, and he tries to break it with a grin, but he’s now cold and hungry, and worried.

She huffs and takes a bite.

He doesn’t think about it. He turns on the heater.

Natasha freezes as soon as the motor whirs and the air blasts through, and immediately Clint knows what he’s done. He fumbles to turn it off but the damage is done.

“I’m sorry, Nat. I didn’t mean it.. I was cold.. Are you ok? I’m sorry…” Clint blusters guilt tearing through him as she holds up a hand keeping him away.

He watches as she folds in on herself. He knows she was already on edge, then he snapped at her now this.

He’s fucked up.

.

Natasha feels the hot blast of air and she’s strung up on the rafters above her.

She doesn’t want to see.

Clint’s saying he’s sorry and she’s plunged further back. She’s cold too, but it’s bone deep.

The food she didn’t want to eat is dropped and she can’t concentrate on anything.

She grounds herself by grading her breath, sucking it in, holding it, letting it go.

Once, twice, three times. Little pains make themselves known but she doesn’t mind, it actually seems to help.

“Water?” She requests breathlessly.

Clint hands her a bottle of water, preempting her needs.

As she takes a sip, she brings herself back a little more.

“I’m sorry,” he says again.

“It’s ok,” she breathes out. “I think..”

She holds her breath, not wanting to say what she knows she needs.

“Yellow. Yellow. Yellow.”

.

[eliemo]

Solitary

Summary: Logan wakes up. He wasn't supposed to this time.

TWs: aftermath of a suicide attempt, implied/referenced self harm, self hatred and self esteem issues, hopeful ending

Notes: Mind the tags pls, I wrote this with no plan at like 1am. Platonic LAMP

When Logan woke up, the first thing he registered was a splitting headache, white hot pain spreading down his head to his spine like his skull was being snapped in two.

The next was the pulsing agony in both of his arms, shooting up to his shoulders with a sudden intensity that made him gasp before he could stop himself, only to be met with another stabbing pain in his throat.

“Hey hey hey, easy.” A vaguely familiar voice filtered in from somewhere nearby, but Logan was pretty sure the pain would only worsen if he opened his eyes to look. “Easy, Lo. You’re safe, you’re ok.”

All Logan was able to manage was an awful sounding croak. He felt someone running their hand gently through his hair, another holding the side of his face.

“Breathe, kiddo. You’re ok.”

Patton. A bit of the rising alarm faded when he recognized the moral side’s voice, but something still pulled at his chest when he realized how scared Pat sounded. What was going on?

“Can you open your eyes?” Patton asked, soft and concerned right beside his ear. “We really miss you, Logan.”

Patton’s voice broke a bit at the end, miserable and pleading, and that was enough for Logan to risk pain that came with the sudden light, making another weak noise in the back of his throat as he pried his eyes open, surprised and a little frustrated over how much effort it took.

Like he’d warily expected, the barrage of light did feel like someone was repeatedly taking a knife to his eyes, but it wasn't nearly as intense as he’d anticipated.

It took a second for everything to come into focus, but when it did Logan could make out that he was on the couch in the living room, a dark blue blanket draped over him, the curtains closed over the windows to keep the sunlight out of the dim room.

Patton was crouched beside him, fingers still running through Logan’s hair, slow and gentle. Virgil was perched on the other end of the couch, eyeshadow smeared and staining his face with dried black tears.

Roman was standing beside the armchair just a few paces away, looking like he’d just been startled out of his seat, face pale, eyes wide and shiny.

They all looked...awful. They looked about as bad as Logan felt right now.

“Wh-what?” It hurt to talk, voice raspy and shaking, but the confusion was only making his head hurt more. “What’s happening, I—”

“I’ll, uh- I’ll get him some water,” Roman said hastily, failing to hide the worried glance he sent Patton’s way. “Hang in there, Teach.”

Roman was gone before Logan could say anything, and his gaze wandered instead to Virgil who was still planted by his feet, shifting anxiously where he sat, glancing between Logan and Patton like he was waiting for someone to speak.

Luckily Roman wasn’t gone for long, hurrying back into the room within seconds and practically thrusting a glass of water in Logan’s face.

He moved to sit up and take it, only to hiss at the pain shooting up his arms at the tiniest of movements, falling limply back onto the cushions.

“Don’t use your hands, honey,” Patton said, a second too late. “Here, let me help you, ok?”

Any other time Logan would have protested. He was perfectly capable of drinking a cup of water by himself. But right now all he had the energy to do was give a tiny nod and let Patton help him to sit up.

He didn’t have the energy to fight, keeping his aching arms under the blanket and letting Patton bring the cup to his lips. The cold water eased the pain in his throat somewhat, even if it took a frustratingly long time for Logan to swallow a few sips.

“There you go,” Patton said when he saw done, and Logan hated how overly gentle the other side was being with him. “How’re you feeling?”

“Fine,” Logan said, despite how badly everything hurt. “What...happened?”

He saw the three of them exchange worried glances among themselves, trying and failing once again to hide it from Logan. His head was still too heavy to remember what had put him in this position in the first place, but their concern was only worsening his rising anxiety. Or maybe he was just picking up on some of Virgil’s distress.

The anxious side shifted again, brows drawn together as he looked Logan over. “Do you not...remember what happened?”

Logan took a moment, squeezing his eyes shut and swallowing against the lump in his throat, taking a moment to catalogue his aching body, his headache, and the searing pain shooting up his arms.

“Was I...injured?”

That was apparently the wrong thing to say, because Patton immediately burst into tears. To his dismay, Roman and Virgil’s eyes started welling up at the same time.

Oh, god. Logan was even less prepared to deal with their emotions than he usually was.

“Is that…” he trailed off, swallowed, and tried again. “Is that a yes?”

Patton only began crying harder, and before Logan could try to apologize the moral side was throwing himself forward, arms wrapped around Logan as best he could, sobbing loudly into his chest.

“Patton, I—”

“I’m so sorry!” Patton wailed, only further growing Logan’s confusion. “I’m so sorry Lo, I’m so sorry! We didn’t- we didn’t know! I swear we had no idea!”

“Let him take a moment to wake up, Padre,” Roman said, still hovering anxiously. He and Virgil were being much quieter about their distress, but both of their faces were soaked with tears. “But we...we really are sorry. Gosh, Logan we’re so so sorry.”

Logan screwed his eyes shut again, still coming up blank when he tried to connect the dots. “What...what on earth are you apologizing for?”

“For not realizing you felt that way, Lo.” Virgil moved to put a hand on Logan’s leg, refusing to look the logical side in the eyes. “Jeez- you’re family and we never...we never noticed.”

Patton was still bawling into his shirt, Virgil tightened his own hold, Roman began pacing as he tended to do when he was stressed, and Logan still had absolutely no clue what was going on. Why wouldn’t someone just tell him what had happened?

“Patton...” Logan stopped, first from the pain that came with raising his hand to touch Patton’s shoulder, then from the shock of seeing his arms. “I—”

“Don’t look, baby,” Patton said, gently guiding his hands back under the blanket like Logan hadn’t gotten a clear view of blood stained bandages wrapped around his arms from his wrists to his elbows. “You’re ok.”

His arms were...had he...?

Roman cleared his throat, and Logan looked over at the sound. The Prince held a wrinkled piece of paper in his hand, crumpled and a little stained, and the writing Logan could just barely make out was suddenly alarmingly familiar.

“We, uhm. We found your note.”

And just like that it all came rushing back- the overwhelming pain, the emotions, everything spiraling out of his usually so strict control as he finally let everything out onto a flimsy piece of notebook paper.

He’d lost control, no longer able to see a better way out. All he’d been focused on was the horrible pain in his arms soaked with blood that signified an ending he hadn’t even been sure he really wanted.

It came back in a fragmented blur, and Logan abruptly remembered that he wasn’t supposed to have woken up.

Oh. Oh no.

“I am...so sorry,” Logan said, at a loss for what else to do. “It was never my intention for you all to—”

“Your intention was pretty fucking clear,” Virgil snapped, and Logan was taken aback by the hostility in Anxiety’s voice. “Jesus Christ, Lo! What were you thinking?”

“Virgil,” Patton snapped, but the wavering in his voice overshadowed any vehemence. “That’s...let’s calm down, kiddo. Ok?”

Virgil wiped his eyes with his sleeves, shoulders hunched as he crossed his arms and stared at the ground. Logan’s chest squeezed, guilt and panic overwhelming.

“How long was I...asleep?”

Patton gave a shaky sigh, going back to running his hands through Logan’s hair. “Since last night. It’s...I think three in the afternoon now.”

Logan’s stomach dropped, and the pain in his arms flared up again as he struggled to sit up, only to fall limp against the back of the couch. He’d been out all day, forcing the other sides to stop what they were doing and look after him.

He couldn’t imagine how much damage and stress he’d caused. The one thing he’d been trying to avoid doing any more of.

“I’m very sorry,” Logan said, forcing his voice to remain steady. “My intentions were not to be an inconvenience or cause any unnecessary stress. I will attempt to get back on schedule as soon as possible and—”

“Get back on schedule?”

Logan couldn’t remember hearing Virgil yell like this, shrinking back into Patton’s arms before he could stop himself, the anxious side having stood up from the couch, eyes wide and brimming with new tears.

Logan cleared his throat, struggling to speak with his heart hammering in his chest. “I...apologize for—”

“You think we’re upset over the schedule?” Virgil snapped, flinching when Roman moved closer to put a hand on his shoulder. “We’ve been sitting here for hours waiting for you to wake up after you tried to kill yourself and you think we’re upset because we’re behind schedule? Are you fucking serious, Logan?”

The screaming eventually dissolved into ragged sobs, and Logan watched as Roman gathered Virgil up his arms and pulled him close, the anxious side burying his face into the Prince’s chest.

Roman hadn’t stopped silently crying, silent tears sliding down his cheeks as he pressed his nose to Virgil’s hair, trembling with the strength it took to hold back his sobs. And Patton hadn’t let go of him, half of Logan’s shirt soaked with the moral side’s tears.

He hadn’t...expected this. Any of it.

Honestly, Logan hadn’t expected anyone to even notice his absence at first. He supposed they might not have known he’d...passed at all if he hadn’t been found before he’d finished.

He'd expected them to be mildly agitated when they found out he was gone, a little annoyed that he’d taken such drastic measures instead of continuing to ignore it and move on for Thomas’s sake. They'd have to make their schedules themselves now, and his death would likely push a few things back.

Things might be a bit less efficient without him but...they’d realize it was for the best eventually. They would be happier without him around. The air would be lighter.

It would be quieter. They wouldn’t have to constantly hide their annoyance every time he opened his mouth.

They wouldn’t have to deal with him at all anymore.

He hadn’t...expected anyone to be upset over the thought of losing him. He hadn’t even succeeded, he was perfectly fine, and every single one of them was in very clear distress.

“I am...very sorry,” he tried again, wondering if all he’d managed to do was ruin things irreparably. “I never wanted to upset any of you.”

“It isn’t about us,” Patton said, reaching over to quickly squeeze Virgil’s hand. “It’s not about our feelings. It’s about yours.”

“No, Virgil is right. It was selfish of me to—”

“It wasn’t selfish,” Virgil said quickly. He pulled away from Roman, just enough to look at Logan. “It’s not...it wasn’t selfish, Lo. It wasn’t your fault.”

Logan frowned, because that...was an exceptionally strange thing to say. Especially when he had every right to scream until his voice was hoarse. “Of course it was. I did it to myself. I was fully aware of what I was doing.”

That made Patton tighten his hold and Virgil’s gaze drop to the floor, but Logan didn’t falter. It was the truth. He wasn’t going to make excuses or pretend to be ashamed. He’d been convinced it was the right thing to do.

Roman suddenly sighed, trembling and quiet, the only one able to meet Logan’s eyes. “Sometimes our brains tell us things, Lo. They aren’t true and they’re awful but it’s...hard not to listen. You just need some help quieting the thoughts.”

“My thoughts are...perfectly rational,” Logan said, despite the situation. “I was simply mistaken. I thought I was doing what was best.”

“You thought we hated you!” Patton was crying again, sobbing with nothing holding him back, and Logan suddenly couldn’t bring himself to look at the note left on the coffee table. “You thought...Lo, the things you said—”

“I was wrong,” Logan said curtly, even as a prickle of dread settled in his stomach. “I was...I was wrong, wasn’t I?”

He was a bit taken aback by how quickly the three of them burst into affirmations, all of them suddenly crowded around him, holding him close as gently as possible. Keeping him safe.

“We love you,” Virgil was saying, and the anxious side had somehow managed to half commandeer his lap, his arms wrapped around his Logan’s middle. “I love you, Logan, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not...your fault,” Logan said, wishing his arms didn't hurt quite so bad. He couldn’t even attempt to hug anyone back. “I shouldn’t—”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Roman spoke up, placing a gentle but grounding hand on Logan’s back. “I know it feels like you did, Teach. I know. But you didn’t.”

“I tried to...I- I thought—”

“You’re in a bad place and we didn’t notice,” Virgil said, barely audible from where his face was pressed into Logan’s shirt. “That’s our fault. We- I should have been there to help, I didn’t know you—”

“I was attempting to hide it.” Hiding it had become normal. He’d hoped it would all simply go away, or fade away to the background at the very least if he just pretended.

But it had only grown worse, leaving him feeling empty and numb and hurt each time he was ignored and talked over, each time an argument went a little too far, each time he felt like a burden for simply speaking his mind. For having a thought in the first place.

He’d thought they hated him. He thought they hated the sound of his voice, his presence in their lives, his existence. A bitter part of him had wondered if they’d celebrate his death before erasing him from their memories entirely.

He hadn’t been able to say it aloud. But he’d finally been able to sit down and put it all on paper, finalizing it into one last goodbye.

Logan has been stupid. Logic had failed, and he’d done something irrational.

If he couldn’t even do his job well enough to keep himself alive, what even was the point in keeping him around? Thomas might be better off without him after all—

“Logan.” Patton was right in front of him now, warm hands on Logan’s cheeks, effectively cutting off his spiraling thoughts. “We’re here now. We’re here and we know.”

Logan curled his shoulders and nodded, the thought equally comforting and terrifying. He’d never planned on having to face the consequences of this decision. Of his awful, irrational feelings.

“We’re gonna help you kiddo,” Patton continued. “You’re not alone, Logan. You never ever have been. I’m so sorry you thought you were.”

Logan swallowed, alarmed at how tight his throat was becoming, vision quickly becoming blurred. “I...I don’t want to cause any pointless stress. We’re all busy.”

“We’re worried about you,” Patton said softly, never letting go of Logan. “You worry about the people you love. You worry about family.”

“I...” he paused, closing his eyes as the tears finally spilled over. “I wasn’t...sure that I was.”

Virgil lifted his head and frowned, but Logan refused to look down at him, staring blankly at the wall instead. “You weren’t...what? Family?”

Logan didn’t respond, didn’t jump to correct the assumption because he...couldn’t. He’d questioned his place for so long, somewhere along the way he’d begun assuming nobody cared. That it wasn’t a question for anyone else.

The heartbroken noises from the other three sides made him flinch, and he melted into their touch as they rushed to assure him once again, hard as it was to focus on anything they were saying.

He’d been so stupid. How could he have mistaken this for anything but love?

“You’re family, Logan,” Roman said, holding him from behind with his head now rested on Logan’s shoulder. “You will always be family. I’m so sorry it got this bad.”

Logan wasn’t sure when he’d started letting himself cry in earnest, but now that he’d started he couldn’t stop.

There were three pairs of arms around him, holding him close while he trembled and sobbed and tried to force out apologies that kept getting caught in his throat.

He’d been selfish, and he’d upset them all so much but…

But he’d been so hurt. He’d felt so hurt for months and none of them had noticed. Nobody had asked. He wasn’t angry, he knew they would never have left him like that if they could have known. But it didn’t change the fact that it had happened.

But it was...going to be better now. Logan wanted so badly to believe it was going to get better.

“We’re going to fix this,” Patton said, and Logan’s eyes slipped shut when the moral side once again began playing with his hair. “We’re gonna be right here, Lo. We’ve got you. It won’t ever get this bad again.”

Logan felt himself drifting back to sleep, the pain fading to a dull ache in the background, and he didn’t try to fight against it. His chest was still heavy, mind clouded with distorted thoughts and doubts, and he knew none of that would disappear the next time he woke up. He wasn’t naive enough to hope it would.

But he had a way to fix it now. A way that wasn’t quite so final as his original plan.

And his family would be there when he woke up. He didn’t have to do this by himself anymore. He didn’t have to be the only one trying to fix this.

Logan believed them. He wouldn’t have to do it alone. Never again.

[empower-bi-women]

Thank you for the request! It was beautiful and touching! 🥺 TO build on that storyline though can you have Shawn be there when I get the call for transplant? Just have it be where he's running through the halls to find my room and where I am and the surgery doesn't start till he says not goodbye but see you later. 🥺 I know this is a real weird topic but just do the best you can. Your writing brought me to tears! 😭

In sickness and in health pt 2

Word count: 1168

Warnings: hospitals, talk of transplants, angst if you squint, my bad grammar, bad ending??? I didn’t know how to end it.

A/N: I wrote this at 1am again because who needs sleep anyway. Not me! Also thank you so much for requesting a part two I hope I did ok! It really means a lot to me that you like this ❤️❤️❤️ and as always feedback is greatly appreciated. 

pt 1  pt 3

Waiting was the worst part. Both you and Shawn jumped every time the phone rang, hoping it was the hospital with those words you both longed to hear; we found a match. 

You didn’t know how much longer you could stand the pain. Every breath was like a sharp knife stabbing your chest. And Shawn, bless his heart, tried his best to make you as comfortable as he could. 

“Is that ok honey? I can get you another pillow if you need,” he looked at you lying on the sofa all ready for a day of binge watching all the marvel movies, “I’m gonna grab another one just in case.” 

“Shawn you don't have to, I'm fine, I promise.” You wheezed out. 

He emerged from the bedroom with two more pillows and the comforter off your bed.

 “Ok but just in case, I don’t want you to strain yourself while I’m gone to this stupid meeting ok? I still don’t know why we couldn’t do it online,” he mumbled to himself, “All you have to do is rest and keep your phone on,” he grabbed his keys before kissing your forehead, “I left some food already made in the fridge all you have to do is warm it up. I’ll be back as soon as I can baby. I love you.” 

“I love you too Shawn.” You snuggled under your pile of blankets as the door closed quietly, trying to ignore the pain in your chest. 

Sometime during Thor, you fell asleep, the pain finally fading to a dull throb. You woke with a jolt causing you to wince. You saw your phone buzzing and picked it up. 

“Hello?” The sleep was evident in your voice. 

“Hi is this Y/N Y/L?” A woman chipper voice answered. 

“Yes may I ask who this is?” 

“This is Etobicoke general hospital calling. We have some good news for you. We have a match for your lung transplant.” 

You gasped and fell to the floor in shock. You had dreamed of this day but now it was finally here. You felt relief flood your body. It was happening. It was finally happening. 

“Miss Y/L? Are you still there?” The woman asked. 

“Yes yes I’m right here, sorry.” You replied shakily. 

The woman laughed. “No need to apologize. I understand this is most likely a shock for you. We understand this is slightly unconventional but for the transplant we would need you to come in immediately, would that be ok?” 

“Yes of course I’ll be in as soon as possible.” 

“Perfect I’ll let the doctors know.” 

You said your goodbyes before calling your family to tell them the news. Getting in your car, you raced to the hospital calling Shawn on your way. 

“Baby guess what?” You had a huge smile on your face. 

“Captain America betrays Iron man?” He said with false surprise in his voice. 

“No and I didn’t even make it to civil war. I got the call.” 

He was silent for a moment, “The call? The lung call?” 

“That’s the one! I’m at the hospital now I’m just pulling into the parking lot.” 

“Wait why are you going in now? Don’t you have to fill out forms or something?” 

“Yeah I’m going to do that here, the nurse who called said to come in immediately they’re going to do the transplant now.”

“Holy shit!” You heard something clatter in the background, “ok I’m on my way I promise I’ll be there before they wheel you in for surgery.” 

“Ok but don’t speed, I don’t need you in a hospital bed next to me.” 

He laughed. “I’ll be there soon honey don’t worry.“

“Ok I’m going to head in now then I’ll see you soon. I love you.“ 

“I love you too.” 

Walking into the double doors you felt anxious, your heart was pounding and your hands were sweating. You’ve been waiting for this moment for so long and now it’s finally here you don’t know what to do. Walking up to the nurses station you tried to calm your breathing. 

Hello I’m Y/N I'm here for the lung transplant.” You said shakily. 

She gave you a smile and a clipboard and directed you down a hallway to your room where they would prep you for surgery. As you filled out forms you tried to stop your hands from shaking but it was no use. More nurses came in to give you a gown to put on. They tried to calm your nerves. Even offering to bring the priest up to pray with you. All you wanted was Shawn. 

There was a commotion down the hallway. You heard a loud ‘sorry!’ then footsteps thundering toward your room. Shawn burst in with a smile on his face. 

“You're here! I made it on time.” He said, relieved. 

“Yeah I still have ten minutes before I go in.” 

He moved around the room trying to find a chair. When he couldn't he decided to squish into the bed with you. Lying back he turned on his side to face you. 

“Are you excited?” he asked.

You took a shallow, painful, breath. “Yes and no,” he looked at you, wait for you to elaborate, “I'm excited to be able to breathe properly and to know what that feels like, but i also keep thinking of what if something goes wrong,” you looked at him with tears in his eyes, “and what if I never see you again. I can't deal with that, I can't say goodbye.” you were full on sobbing into his shirt now. 

He stroked your hair gently. “Those are all valid fears but lung transplants have an 80% success rate, you're gonna be fine. These doctors know what they're doing. And I'll be right here by your side as soon as you get out ok? And it's not going to be goodbye, it's gonna be see you later, because I will see you later.” 

The doctor walked in the room saying they’re ready to take you in. You took a deep breath as Shawn climbed out of bed.

“I'll see you later Shawn.” You said with a weak smile

“I'll see you later Y/N.” He promised. 

He blew you a kiss as they wheeled you down the hallway. 

Once you were in a room a nurse put a mask over your face and asked you to count back from 100. You could hear your heart pounding in your ears as you inhaled the gas before everything went dark. 

--------------------------------------------------------

You slowly blinked open your eyes. The room seemed so bright. You took your first pain free breath. Tears welled up in your eyes. “It worked.” You whispered to yourself.

“I told you you'd be fine, didn't I?” Shawn lifted his head from your bedside where he had been sleeping, “so what's the first thing you want to do with your new lungs?” 

You gave him a big smile. “Kiss you until I run out of breath.”

[trulycevans]

one night stand

Warnings: alcohol consumption, implications of sex and sexual contact mentioned

Summary: anon requested:

“could you maybe do an imagine based on the gucci guilty commercial? i need me some badboy!biker!chris 👀😂”

Word Count: 1.4k

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

[A/N I’ve been purposefully vague with the descriptions of friends so you can kind of fill in the blanks!]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The Harley Davidson’s hum throbbed through the air outside of the bar as its driver screeched to a halt. Heads turned at the low thrum of the engine. The drivers leather jacket reflecting the streetlights as droplets of rain ran down it. You sat and stared from the window of the bar, your friends voices distant despite the fact they were conversing right next to you. You watched as the man slipped off his helmet, revealing a face that could only have been chiseled by Gods. A strong jawline, a sharp nose and piercing eyes that gazed around the bustling parking lot. 

“[Y/N]!” You were snapped out of your trance by your friends fingers snapping in front of your face. “What are you looking at?” She questioned, leaning into you to peer out of the window. “Nothing,” You shook your head, turning back to the conversation, fiddling with your straw. 

“Ohh was it that guy?” Your friend sat opposite you giggled, twisting to look at the man who was know leant against the black motorbike, a lit cigarette held firmly between his fingers. “God he would be the perfect person to piss off your parents, you should totally go for it!” She smirked, nudging your arm. 

“And what makes you think he’d even be interested in me?” You scoffed, picking up your glass to finish the last few drops. “I’m gonna go and buy another drink, any of you want one?” You questioned, as your friend shuffled out of the booth to let you out. A chorus of “no”’s followed you as you stood at the bar waiting to be served. A breeze blew softly across your back as the door swung open, causing a shiver to consume your body. 

“The usual, Chris?” The bartender questioned, as the attractive man slumped onto a bar stool next to you. 

“Yeah, although I believe this pretty lady was waiting before me... What do you want, doll?” The man who you now learned was Chris eyed you, a small smirk danced on his lips as he watched the blush creep onto your cheeks. “Oh, uh... Just a vodka lemonade please.” The bartender nodded and began making the drinks. “I haven’t seen you around here before...” Chris trailed off.

“[Y/N],” You smiled, gazing at his features carefully. He was even more attractive up close than he was at a distance. You could smell the musky scent of his cologne, which made your knees feel weak. His eyes were a startling blue, and every glance down at your body that he made sent a shiver down your spine. “Yeah, I’m visiting my friends over there.” You pointed over at your friends who were all trying to subtly spy your conversation. When your gaze fell on them however they all looked away giggling. Chris waved at them, which only made their giggles louder. “They all came to college here” You continued. 

“And you didn’t?” He questioned, you shook your head. “No, I decided to stay to go overseas. So it’s not often I see them” 

“Overseas? Where did you go?” The distance between the two of you was slowly diminishing as your conversation progressed. “England” You smiled. The barman placed your drink down on the bar, “One vodka lemonade, and a jack and coke, is that going on your tab, Chris?” He questioned, and Chris nodded. 

“No I can’t let you pay for me,” Your eyes widened as you fumbled to hand over some cash to the bartender. He chuckled and walked away to serve someone else as you watched him incredulously. 

“How about you repay me by staying and chatting with me for a bit?” He questioned, biting his lip as you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “Yeah, okay.” You said breathlessly. “I’m just gonna tell my friends.”

Chris stared after you, peering at your body as you strode over to the table. He watched as your friends all peeked to look at him. He chuckled and looked up taking a swig of his drink. He had noticed you staring when he’d pulled up, he noticed the way your innocent eyes, glimmered with lust. 

You walked back over to him, and apologised, the conversation flowing naturally between you for the rest of the evening.

It was 1am when Chris had whispered in your ear asking if you wanted to join him at his place. You looked at him doe eyed, your mind slightly hazy from the amount of alcohol coursing through your veins. All you could do was nod, you rushed over to your friends who were drunkenly dancing over by the jukebox explaining where you were going. They gushed at you, tell you to make sure you kept your SnapMaps on (”Safety first!”). 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The moment you had entered Chris’ apartment he had immediately pushed you against the door, peppering feverish kisses along your neck. His hot breath sent shivers down your spine, and soft moans fell from your lips. You ran your fingers through his hair. He ran kisses along your jaw, capturing your lips in a passionate embrace. The taste of whiskey and coke invading your mouth as a soft groan escaped him, his hands running up your top so he was delicately stroking your hips. 

You began tugging at his leather jacket, the tight material being discarded to the floor as your fingers ran along the peaks and troughs of his chiseled chest. Chris slowly began walking you toward the bedroom, layers of clothing being peeled off your bodies in the process. 

This isn’t like me, I don’t do one night stands. Your brain was screaming at you, but with every burning kiss that Chris scattered on your body your hesitations were wiped away. You finally felt your back hit the bed and Chris hovered over you, his necklace dangling over you. 

“You sure you want this?” He questioned, a flash of concern on his face as he sought your consent. You nodded, no doubt in your mind about what you wanted to do. 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Waking up in an unfamiliar bed, sunlight seeping through the blinds. You felt a strong arm pinning you down, soft snores echoing throughout the bedroom. When you managed to crack your eyes open, your head began to throb as you shifted upward to lean on your elbows. The sleeping form next to you roused slightly, turning with sleepy eyes to look at you. 

“Morning” His gruff, low and husky morning voice spoke, sending shivers down your spine once again. Even feeling as hungover as you did, you would happily go for round two with him. 

“Morning,” You smiled, twisting to lie on your side. 

“How’s your head?” He chuckled, smirking at you, “I bought you a lot last night.” He reached up to tuck some of your hair behind your ears.

“Sore, I feel a bit sick too. I should be fine after some food. How’s yours?” 

“Not bad. I’m just tired.” A steady flow of conversation carried on until your phone started ringing on the bedside table. You groaned at the loud noise, picking it up and seeing it was one of your friends from the night before. “Hey,” You whispered into the phone.

“Hey, are you ok? When are you coming back, we’re going for brunch remember?” You bolted upright, scrambling to get dressed. “Shit I’m coming, I’ll get an Uber to the restaurant?” 

Chris admired you as you rushed to get ready, the white duvet loosely strewn over his naked body. “I’m so sorry, I’ve gotta get going. I completely forgot about brunch!” Chris threw the covers off and stretched, then standing and walking toward you. You gulped, his confidence in his naked body making your knees feel weak. You spotted tattoos that you hadn’t noticed before, he smirked at your reaction to him. 

“So this is it?” He questioned, you gulped looking at him wide-eyed. “Yeah, I guess so. Thanks for a good night” You nervously ran a hand through your hair. 

“We’ll have to do this again-” Your phone buzzed in your pocket interrupting him. “Shit, my Uber is outside, I’ve gotta dash!” You grabbed your phone and purse from the floor. You pressed one final kiss to his cheek, before leaving his apartment. It was only later that afternoon that Chris realised you’d left with his leather jacket, a souvenir of your night together.  

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

taglist

@onetwo3000​ @tvckerlance​

[ganseys-hoe]

Ok so a lot of people are saying a lot of things about the resolution of Whiskey’s storyline and I just wanted to share my thoughts (even though no one asked)

*SPOILERS

First off: I dont think this was a perpetuation of the “cheating bisexual” stereotype

While his sexuality is never confirmed in the comics, i dont think hes attracted to women

He says that he’s not a flashy person, that he doesn’t want to stand out in the way that he thinks he will if he dates a man.

If he wasn’t gay, maybe bi or pan, then him still being true to himself could mean staying with his girlfriend, and not standing out.

But then he says he can't be like Bitty, he can’t stand out

‘Can’t be like him” implies that something (internalised homophobia, his family’s beliefs) is getting in the way of him being like bitty and “standing out” (being in a relationship with a man)

Won’t, or isn’t, would imply that he has some variability in his options, like he could try to not act on his attraction to men, and still have some semblance of romantic happiness with a woman. If he used either of these words, it would indicate that he is attracted to women.

But since he says can’t, it leads me to believe that him being who he truly is would cause the end of a romantic/sexual relationship with a woman, that he isn’t attracted to girls

So if he is not attracted to women, he is not bisexual, and is therefore not perpetuating this stereotype by kissing that lax bro haha

While I interpreted his character as being gay, i think that he himself is confused. He’s trying to cling onto his girlfriend from home while experimenting with people he really is attracted to

Internalised Homophobia (his relationship to other queer characters)

So this is a big one

We see all of the characters through Bitty’s eyes, and so when Whiskey is cold to him, we feel personally hurt, we believe bitty when he complains to Jack that Whiskey hates him

But after 4.9 (the iconic lax bro/whiskey kiss), we can see him differently

He doesn’t hate Bitty, he resents him. He resents Bitty’s ability to be out, he resents bitty’s relationship.

I also think he sees bitty as vulnerable, something he’s been training himself not to be for a very long time. Whiskey sees Bitty’s openness as weakness, as something someone can exploit to hurt him.

I also think Connor has a lot of internalised homophobia. His relationship with Bitty reminds me a lot of Isak and Eskild from the “Pride” skam clip. Both Isak and Whiskey see being open about their sexuality and proud of it as being flashy, as shoving it in someone's face. Eskild and Bitty both know that being who you are is not being “over the top”

When Connor see’s Jack and Bitty kiss on the ice that day, he probably feels a lot of things

1. Jealous, wanting what they have

2. Uncomfortable with the backlash they’re exposing themselves to

3. Embarrassed, thinking its “too much”, that they could have had that moment in private

He calls himself a private person, and uses that characteristic as a reason why he isn’t out, which I think demonstrates how he thinks liking boys is something that should be kept quieter than liking girls

THAT (yes, THAT) party

Ok so I’m a firm believer that Chad L. (the lax captain) is who Whiskey was kissing that night

I don’t think it was a one time thing, due to Bitty’s previous mention of Whiskey hanging out with the lax team  

Also the way they look at each other is TENDER, like no amount of alcohol can fabricate that affection

MOVING ON, the fact that Whiskey did this at a hockey party and not a Haus party is very telling

It reminds me a lot of the AFTG series, where Neil wouldn’t drink in order to not divulge anything about his mafia-affiliated dad. Obviously Whiskey’s predicament is not life and death if people find out his secret, but I maintain that he chose this particular party to finally cut loose at for a reason. because he knew that it was the one party Bitty didn’t want them to go to, the one party where Bitty was sure not to be.

Now this raises a tricky question. Whiskey is generally very cagey about his attraction to boys, but is in a public place when spotted kissing that lax bro. Does he at this point feel so comfortable with the lax crowd that he’s able to do this, or his problem entirely with Bitty knowing?

Because there were other hockey boys at that party that could have spotted him, I believe his problem is solely with Bitty knowing. But why?

Maybe because he knows he can’t pass it off as a drunken mistake to Bitty and be done with the conversation. Maybe because he knows bitty will try to tell him how much he supports him, and Whiskey doesn’t want Bitty to see how vulnerable and scared he really is.

I think it shows tremendous character growth for the both of them that Bitty backs off and leaves Whiskey room to tell him on his own terms, and that Whiskey has grown by being able to confront this topic with the one person he was trying to hide from.

The Ending

UUggghh I loved the ending

I know a lot of people see the comics as saying OUT = GOOD, HAPPY

CLOSETED = BAD, REPRESSED

Although Whiskey is still not out at the end, calling him repressed is totally ignoring all of his character development

The endgame for some isn’t coming out to others, its finally accepting themselves

Whiskey isn’t out and proud just yet, but he’s more secure in his identity, and is starting to realize that his previous idea of “gay” isn’t what it means to everyone

He might be perfectly happy in a less public relationship with Chad L. (THEY’RE DATING, OK!!!)

He might be still dating his girlfriend (i personally think she's from canada (fake))

What he definitely is is more comfortable with himself than he was

I also think it’s nice that in this largely idealized comic, there is some realism. Not everyone gets the immediate happy ending. Some people are still figuring their shit out, some stories are still being written.

thank you for reading this very long rant I wrote a 1am haha

[ssa-daddyhotchner]

Undercover - Chapter 7

Chapter Selection

Everyone had gone back to work; Reid was on medical leave and wouldn't be back for a few weeks. 

JJ and Garcia were constantly checking up on him so he didn't slip again. He was talking now instead of avoiding us. 

I was at my desk doing paperwork when Emily approached me, "Hey so me, JJ, and Garcia were going to do a girls night. I feel like we haven't hung out as often as we should, you wanna come." 

Without hesitation I said yes. I needed to just get drunk.

I pick up my phone an text Aaron. 

y/n- Hey....Me, Garcia, Emily, and JJ are going out tonight so I might not be over tonight

Aaron- oh ok have fun just not too much. I don't need guys all over you

y/n- I'll try and there's no need for you to be jealous

Honestly the thought of him being jealous was really hot. 

Aaron- Little girl you're mine...remember that

Those word stuck with me for the rest of the day. By the end of the day the girls had left for the night. They texted me that they'd be over in an hour so I could get ready. 

I went into Aaron office and looked around. The blinds were closed and there was no one in the bullpen. 

I walked over behind his desk and leaned. He stopped working when he saw me. I let out a small, "Hey." He grabbed my hand pulling me to sit on his lap. "Hey yourself, how was your day." I threw my arms around his neck. 

"Better now. I'm actually looking forward to hanging out with them. Emily had mentioned earlier we've never really hung out." 

Aaron pecked my lips. "She's not wrong all of your time has been with me." I smiled, "I'm not complaining." 

I saw the time and realized I had half and hour before they got to my apartment. "I need to go there gonna be at my place soon", He didn't let go of me. 

"Hold on", I stopped trying to get out of his grasp and looked at him staring back at me. 

"Do you know what time you'll be home." 

"No but I'm hoping before 1am." 

"Well whatever time you guys do finish up....if you can you don't have too. I want you to come over." He mainly wanted supports he's been having a tough time. "Do you even have to ask, you're stuck with me." 

He let me stand up but before I could get up fully he slapped my ass. I turned around in shock and he just smirked and continued working. I laughed and walked out. 

I got to my car and drove home. It was 6:30pm and they were going to be there in half and hour. 

I took a shower using Aarons shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. I smelled just like him and the smell of mint brought me some peace. 

When I finished my shower I heard some knocks at my door. I opened to see Emily, JJ, and Garcia in party dresses. 

"What are you doing go get your ass changed." Emily said, bringing me to my closet. "Wear this one." JJ held out a black spaghetti strap dress that stopped around my mid thigh. 

The other two gasped, "Yes wear that one." Garcia said while JJ gave me the dress. I walked into the bathroom putting on the dress. I looked good in it, I took out my phone and sent a picture to Aaron. I walked out and their jaws dropped. 

"Holy shit y/n", Emily exclaimed

"Damn okay." JJ said while smiling through her teeth. "Oh my god you look so good." Garcia said while getting me a pair of black heels. I put the shoes on, got my clutch and we left. Getting a cab to go to the club. 

Arriving around 8 the club was almost full we made it inside without a problem. It was dark, loud, and hot. There were people everywhere, crowding the bar and dancefloor. 

JJ managed to get a booth in the corner. Emily went to get us some drinks, I got a lemonade vodka.

She returned with the drinks. "So y/n seeing as you're the newest what's been going on with you." Defiantly not fucking our boss, "Nothing really." They stared at me, they knew I was hiding something. 

JJ said, "Are you sure about that, no guys...nothing?" I really didn't want them in my business. 

I was about to answer and I felt my phone vibrate. "Ooo you get a text?" The annoying part was Garcia could easily hack my phone and find out. I didn't answer her but when I read the text I couldn't keep the smile off my face. 

Aaron- Little girl you look stunning. If you were here I'd rip that dress right off 

The comment went straight to my core. "I'm gonna ask this one more time, are you sure there's no guy cause you know I can hack your phone right." 

The thought of her doing that scared me. "Ok.. ok there is guy. But please I just wanna keep it to myself."

Emily speaks up, "Out of respect we will leave it alone, can I ask one question." I nod nervously for what she's gonna ask. "Is he.....you know." I smack Emily's arm but I answer, "You have no idea." There faces were priceless. 

Finishing our drinks Garcia goes and get us another round. She starts getting vodka shots for everyone. I didn't know how much I had until I started to slur my words and stumble. I grab JJs hand and drag her to the dance floor. 

I put my hands on her hips swaying back and forth. Her hands going around my neck, I guide her hips to the music. The music is booming though the room. 

I felt It in my legs and chest, Emily comes over and steals JJ from me leaving me alone until Garcia came over. 

As I was dancing with Pen I looked over an saw JJ and Emily getting a little close. They seemed to be really in the moment. 

JJ had her hands on Emily's neck; Emily's hands on her waist and hips with her mouth nibbling on JJs ear. I turned my attention away, I felt like I was intruding even though it was happening in public. The room around me started to spin and I was getting nauseous. 

Garcia was the most sober out of us, she brought me outside; she decided I had a little too much. Pen took my phone dialing the last number I called. 

"Wai- n...don do that." I tried to snatch my phone away but she sat me on the floor and waited for the person to pick up. 

I heard the deep voice on the other end and my heart dropped. "Y/n were you still coming over. Do I need to pick you up." Garcia's jaw dropped and she looked at me with a smirk. "Hello sir.....yea y/n needs you to pick her up." 

I heard him sigh, "Where" She gave him the location and he was here within minutes. His car pulled up and he stepped out. Garcia helped me up. 

I gasped, "Baby...wha-t are you doin he..." 

When I saw Aaron I stumbled over to him giving him a sloppy kiss. He caught me and kissed me back before looking at Penelope. She was smiling the whole time Aaron just gave her a look and she stopped. 

"We'll talk about this tomorrow, please don't say anything." Hotch told Garcia; she didn't say a word walking back into the club. 

I couldn't carry my own weight; Aaron picked me up bridal style and put me in the passenger seat. 

I woke up to breathing on my neck, I didn't remember what happened my heart dropped not knowing who was next to me. I turned my head and saw Aaron and I relaxed. 

"Morning", he said kissing my neck. "Hey", I felt like death. Every time I drink I forget about the torture in the morning that reminds me why I don't drink. 

"There something you need to know....last night, Garcia called me to get you." I froze, some how I knew exactly what he was going to say and I dreaded it. 

"You kissed me in front of her." I knew it, the one thing I didn't want the team to know about. 

"Did she tell anyone?" I sat up going to the bathroom. "Not that I know of, I told her not too but its Garcia." He was right about that if anyone loves gossip its Pen. 

I took shower and went to the kitchen. It was the first time Aaron saw me hungover and his heart ached. 

He saw the pain I was in and just wanted to help. Sadly there wasn't much he could do. 

My head was pounding, I couldn't stop shaking, and I was throwing up. "Here." Aaron handed me a trash can and some ibuprofen. 

I sat on the couch with him watching tv and fell asleep in his embrace. His hands slightly tugging on my hair to relive some of the pressure. 

________________

I was laying down with Aaron and I just felt off. His chest was pressed to my back holding me close while I stayed awake all night. 

I was suddenly so sad, I wasn't tired I just wanted to cry. I struggled to get up and look at the time, 1:35am great. 

I unwrapped Aarons arms from around my waist and stood up going into the bathroom. I had dark circles under my eyes like I hadn't slept in days, I just felt...weak. 

I closed my eyes and put my head down. I heard foot steps behind me, Aaron was leaning on the doorway looking at me through the mirror. 

"Baby what are you doing up." He asked with his morning voice. His eyes almost completely shut like he was going to knock out right there. 

"I don't know, I jus-," I sighed. "I don't know." I walked over to him patting him on the chest going to lay back down. 

"No there's something wrong, I can tell", He turned around. I was deciding if I should tell him. 

"Lately I've just been sad. Like I just wanna break down crying for no reason; maybe its just stress." 

He walked over to me kneeling down between my legs, putting a hand on my knee. "How about we go out. I wanna take you some place." I was confused; where would we be going at 1:40 in the morning, but we got dressed and walked outside to the car. 

The winter air was crisp but not too cold. Getting into the car he started driving; it was calm and quiet with light instrumental music playing in the background. 

My mind wondered as I looked at the sky through the window. I was thinking about life, the fact that we don't understand it as much as we'd like. I was snapped out of me thoughts when the car stopped. 

I looked at the clock, 2:30. We left the apartment at 1:40, driving for almost an hour. I looked around and saw nothing. He got out of the car opening my door for me. He grabbed my hand helping me out.

I saw nothing but grass and trees. We were on a huge ass hill that overlooked a forest, it reminded me of the clearing we found; but this was different. 

"Why'd you bring me here." I saw Aaron expression change. "I used to come here when I was stressed or needed a break. Usually around this time." 

Sitting on the hood of his car he continued. "I always came here alone, this was my way of escaping in a sense." 

Gazing at the sky it was black with tints of blue, purple, pink, and orange. The grass was overgrown, breeze had a slight chill, the wind rustling the trees. I was staring at the stars, there was no light pollution.

I was just space and seeing it clearly was reliving and damn near therapeutic. He put his arm around me holding me against him, throwing a blanket over us. 

I let out a deep breath and drifted off to the sounds of Aaron humming a song. 

I woke up to arm shaking me, "Princess we got to go." I sat up groaning, "Why." 

"We have work", getting back into the car I stretched. "Oh right", I felt a bit better; he helped me. 

__________________

When we got to work Aaron and I automatically went to Garcia office. We walked in and she turned around in her chair. 

There was a huge smile on her face, "Oh my god... I'm so happy for you guys." Closing the door behind us Aaron said, "You didn't tell anyone right." 

"No sir I didn't tell a soul...if you don't mind I have a few questions." We nodded and sat down. "

How long has this been going on." She pointed between me and Aaron.

"About five months now, and to answer the following question I'm aware I've been here five months. We started dating soon after yes." I said putting my hand on his. 

"Does anyone else know"

"Rossi but no one else and y/n and I would like to keep it that way please."

I stood up grabbing Aarons hand pulling him up. "Y/n we're gonna have to talk later." 

Garcia said while winking at me. I huffed and smiled walking out to my desk. 

__________________

A few hours have passed and honestly I was really horny. It had been a few days since we last had sex and I needed his touch; I felt deprived. I took out my phone. 

Y/n- Close the blinds

Aaron- Why

Y/n- Just do it

I saw him in the corner of my eye close the blinds

Y/n- Are you gonna be busy today 

Aaron- No.....little girl what are you doing

Y/n- Call me to your office

Hotch opened the door, "Y/n can I see you in my office please." I walked up the ramp opening the door closing it behind me. I pressed my back to the door and locked it. 

Hearing the click Aaron looked at me raising his eyebrows, I walked over to him quickly sitting on the desk in front of him. 

I pulled him up with the collar of his suit pressing my lips to his. He snaked his arms around my waist. Moaning into the kiss I pulled away. 

As I looked at his face, seeing his swollen lips and dilated eyes it turned me on even more. 

"Just fuck me", He crashed his lips to mine pushing his tongue into my mouth. He pulled me off turned me around and slammed my chest on his desk. 

"You couldn't wait till we got home", he pulled my pants down and slapped my ass. 

Clenching around nothing I sat up facing him, He tugged at my panted taking them off completely.

Aaron standing in between my legs I glanced at the growing bulge in his pants. I palmed him, him groaned in my ear while unbuttoning my shirt. 

I unzipped his pants pulling them down just enough to pull his cock out. Stroking his shaft he took off my underwear. 

He ran his cock up and down my slit before sliding in. Letting me adjust to his size before continuing, thrusting in a out. 

I littered kisses down his neck and up to his jawline; purple circles started to form. I moaned into his neck, his hand finding its way around my throat applying enough pressure for my vision to blur. "Fuc-"

"Let me hear you baby", the knot forming in my stomach. His other hand went to my clit rubbing fast circles matching his movements. 

His groans and curses could be heard from the bullpen. Pounding into me I couldn't form words only whimpers. He turned me into a moaning mess. 

His thrusts getting rougher and faster I started to come close to the edge. He brought me closer to him; my body almost completely with his. 

He added more pressure on my throat, "Fuck Aaron". My hand tugging on his hair pulling his head to the side putting my head into the crook of his neck. 

His movements started to falter as I felt him starting to twitch inside me. I reached my orgasm, I clenched around him bringing him to finish inside me.

My body shaking slightly. Seeing white spots I didn't notice Aaron had already pulled out and was cleaning between my legs with a tissue. 

"You feel better now", Aaron let out a chuckle putting his hands on my hips helping me down. I put my underwear and pants back on. 

I went up to Aaron setting a deep and loving kiss on his lips. My hand pressed the back of his neck bringing him closer. 

"Little girl if you don't stop I might just have to bend you back over the desk." I just stared at him. 

"I'm gonna hold you to that. Love you" Sitting back down and continuing to work, "Love you too."

I walked out of his office sitting back down. From the looks of it, I didn't think they heard us, but I did notice a pair of eyes staring at me.

Rossi and Garcia. 

__________________

@marie1115 @appleblossoms-posts @mac99martin @donttellanyoneireadfanfiction

[advena87]

Kaer Morhen shenanigans (but mostly Lambert’s) part 3

.

Here is: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10 and Daily Lambert

also Keira & Lambert’s love story, Aiden & Lambert’s love story and… this.

.

[ Also here it is nice to remind you that Berengar, like Lambert, was dissatisfied with being a witcher and didn’t have a good opinion about Vesemir. This influenced his decision to reveal Kaer Morhen's location to Salamandra and cooperate with them. If you don't know who Berengar is, I highly recommend playing the Witcher 1. ]

.

Vesemir: *points to Eskel* Dis a son.

Vesemir: *points to Geralt* Dis a son.

Vesemir: *points to Lambert* Dis a pointment.

Berengar: xD

Lambert: Fuck you.

Vesemir: *points to Berengar* Dis a ster.

Lambert: xD

Berengar: ...

***

Lambert: Am I a good son?

Berengar: No.

Lambert: Good.

Both: [evil laugh]

***

Vesemir: Berengar, I've been looking for you everywhere!

Berengar: What a coincidence, old man! I've been avoiding you everywhere!

***

*Young witchers on the path*

Lambert: I think I accidentally got your lunch.

Lambert: *holds up note* I am very proud of you, love Dad.

Eskel: Oh yeah, I didn’t think this was for me.

Eskel: *holds up note* Please be good. For the love of GOD, please be good!

***

Vesemir: We have lost touch as a family and it’s time we get reacquainted. Let’s start with an ice breaker game called, two truths and a lie!

Lambert: Oh, I’ll go! My eyes are blue, I’m basically sample size and one time...I escaped from a fisstech dealer dungeon by bribing them with sex.

Vesemir: [eye roll] Right idea, but it’s gotta be more challenging-

Eskel: His eyes are amber.

Vesemir: ...

Lambert: ...

Vesemir: You did WHAT?!

***

Lambert: I can make my own decisions I’m an adult!

Vesemir: Adults don’t start a bar fight because they forgot to bring their wallet and can’t pay the tab!

Lambert: I never said I can make good decisions.

Vesemir: Why are you doing this to me?

Lambert: Because I’m bored, it’s funny, and I hate you. There you are. The holy trinity of why.

***

Eskel: What's the worst decision you've ever made while drunk?

Lambert: Don't mean to brag, but I don't need alcohol to make bad decisions.

***

Eskel: The moon is so huge and pretty tonight!

Geralt: Yeah it is!

Berengar, quietly to Lambert: Should we tell them it’s just a tortilla you threw at the window?

Lambert: Please don’t.

***

Geralt: My worst trauma is when Lambert tried to murder me.

Lambert: I didn't try to murder you. I just didn't try to save you.

***

Lambert: I swing both ways.

Lambert: Violently. With a sword.

Lambert: Also, I’m bisexual.

Lambert: ... promise you won’t tell anyone?

Berengar: Your secret is safe with me. I wasn’t even listening.

*later*

Eskel: The printer messed up the invitations. it was supposed to say "Lambert’ birthday".

Geralt: What does it say instead?

Eskel: "Lambert’ bi"

Berengar: Well that could still work.

***

Geralt: I think we should do it.

Eskel: But that stuffs illegal!

Geralt: ...

Eskel: ...

Eskel: Ok, I’m in.

Lambert: *walking in the room*

Lambert: I heard illegal, I’m in.

***

Eskel: *angry* ARE YOU-

Lambert: Fucking.

Eskel: -KIDDING ME?!

Berengar: What was that?

Lambert: Eskel legally cannot say fuck, so I’ve volunteered to say it for him.

Geralt: I think you just like saying, fuck.

Lambert: That doesn’t make my job less important.

***

Lambert: Pleasing everyone is impossible, but pissing everyone off is easy and fun as hell. Looking back, I have no regrets.

Geralt: You should.

Lambert: Probably.

***

Guard: Put your weapons on the ground!

Lambert: How exactly do I put sarcasm, a scathing wit, and sex appeal on the ground?

***

Eskel: I sleep with a knife under my pillow.

Geralt: Weak. I sleep with a sword under mine.

Lambert: You're both pathetic.

Berengar: What killer weapon do you sleep with then, Mr. Badass?

Lambert, proud and confident: Aiden.

***

Berengar: What up? I’m back bitches.

Geralt: I literally saw you die. You died. You were dead.

Berengar: Death is a social construct.

***

Lambert, drunk at 1AM: *in pajamas and blasting ABBA in his room* Gimmie gimmie gimmie my man after midnight! Won’t somebody help me-

Geralt in the other room: Aiden is dead. Get over it and go to bed! There’s your help.

Lambert: [drunken sobs]

.

[baskervilleshound]

Her Cookies Were to Die For (PART 6)

((ahaaaaa so it’s past 1AM whoo p s. But in my defense, this chapter got way longer than i originally expected it to be- which is great! But this chapter is actually super special, because it pays homage to one of my favorite Ahit comics ever. The wonderful miss @fedoraspooky allowed me to write out the scene from her Snatcher comic. Hopefully I did it justice. Thank you so, so much for letting me write it out ;;u;;

Guys, if you haven’t seen it, here’s a link: https://fedoraspooky.tumblr.com/post/611345241098829824/lil-continuation-comic-thing-from-this-post-and but if you haven’t seen it yet, don’t look at it till after you read this because it’s technically spoilers for this chapter lolz ANYWAYS. time to get spooky. Please enjoy! ))

“Snatcher, help!” Hat Kid cried as she fought against the vicious Subconite that lived in the muck.

The ghost’s vision was hazy, and he felt weak, but without missing a beat, he stretched one of his long arms out to latch onto Hat Kid before pulling her out of the water, and back up onto the dock with him. She was covered in what appeared to be the blue goop. Snatcher had knocked her directly into it by accident.

If he had known that it was the kid touching him, he wouldn’t have launched her off of the dock in the first place.

“Ugh…kid, are you ok…?” Snatcher grumbled weakly. His head hung over the dock as if he couldn’t lift it as more of the blue goop dribbled out from between his fangs.

“I saw you, Snatcher. You’re sick, and I knew it,” Hat Kid breathed as she watched the blue goop beginning to mysteriously evaporate into the sky off of her coat. It was as if the liquid was being beckoned into the sky, as if some sort of tractor beam were pulling it upward. Except, there wasn’t one. This goo seemed to have a mind of its own.

“What is this, exactly?” the girl asked.

In moments, she had pulled out her Dweller Mask and looked at what remained of the blue liquid on her coat, as well as the strange blue orbs of light now littering the bog.

“They’re souls,” Snatcher huffed. “Yes, kid. I’m sick, and I keep throwing up souls. You were right. There, are you happy now?”

Hat Kid immediately crouched down next to the ghost and put a hand on his long back, gently brushing it against the fluff on his neck.

“No, not at all,” the girl said softly, shaking her head. “I never wanted you to be sick…I was just scared that you were, because I don’t know what to do about it.”

“Well. That makes two of us, kiddo.”

Snatcher went to pull himself back up so he wasn’t lying on the dock any longer, but he found that he simply couldn’t. Not right now.

“Can you get up?” Hat Kid asked.

Snatcher grumbled in response. He knew that he couldn’t, but he definitely refused to admit it out loud. However, he didn’t have to. The girl knew in an instant.

“Maybe you need some souls- here, pull out your magic contract thingy, and I’ll let you borrow mine until you feel better, ok?” Hat Kid said urgently. “C’mon, write one up for me and put the little stamp on it, and I’ll sign it for you- promise!”

Regardless of how exhausted and tired Snatcher felt, he couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

“AhahahahahAAAAH!!! Kiddo, you’re going to make me cry with your idiocy. You do realize that your soul is worthless to me unless I eat it, right?”

Hat Kid nodded rapidly, a look of determination on her face.

“Yep- you can have it! If it’ll make you feel better, I don’t need it.”

Snatcher clicked his tongue and shook his head before letting out a deep sigh.

“Kid. Listen. You can’t just go offering your souls to people, alright? You do know that if I were to eat your soul, you would die. Yes?”

Hat Kid’s face fell and she swallowed hard. No, she didn’t know that. Last time Snatcher had taken her soul, she had been just fine…albeit having a little empty feeling inside. But he hadn’t eaten it, no. He had only held it for her.

“But…what about you? I don’t want you to die,” Hat Kid whispered. “What can I do if I can’t let you borrow my soul?”

Snatcher felt a bit warm inside. It made him uncomfortable. This girl-who he tried to kill several times- was doing everything that she could to make him feel alright. She had even offered him her own very soul! But for some reason…he simply couldn’t take it. He would have no issues ripping it straight out of a Mafia’s body, or even any other intruder in his forest. But Hat Kid….? The idea of eating her soul sent shivers down his nonexistent spine, and he hated it.

“Kid, I’m not taking your soul. Stop talking about it. And I’m not going to die. I’m just not used to losing souls like this. Or puking. That too.”

Hat Kid looked as if she were about to cry. That made Snatcher feel even worse. Regardless of how strong the alien girl was, she was still only nine. And that certainly was showing in this moment. Regardless, there wasn’t much that the ghost could do at the moment.

He felt his vision beginning to fade once again, and before he could even give Hat a warning, he had went limp on the dock. His fangs were still wet from the souls that had been expelled from his body.

---

Hat Kid had done her best not to panic after Snatcher had passed out for the second time in two days. As quickly as she could, she did her best to get the ghost back onto her ship. She didn’t want anyone to find him as weak and tired as he was. What if they hurt him?

What if she hurt him?

Hat Kid swallowed hard as she remembered the note that she found lying in Snatcher’s forest. It had been crumpled up and half buried under a root. Queen Vanessa had sent him a gift in a box. What the box held was a mystery…but Hat Kid had a nagging feeling that whatever had been in it, had something to do with how bad Snatcher was feeling. And those strings wrapped all around his body…and whatever that spiky thing was sitting in the center of his stomach.

Carefully, she tucked the large ghost into her pillow mountain before blowing him a small kiss.

“Goodnight, and feel better, BFF.”

Hat Kid made her way into the kitchen. As expected, Cooking Cat was still in there, messing with her stove.

“I see you brought the big grump back, honey?” CC meowed as she pulled some fresh, hot toast out of the toaster.

“Is he getting sick again?”

Hat Kid frowned and nodded, her eyes becoming glossy.

“I don’t know what to do, CC. He’s throwing up souls. And I guess without them, he feels weak. I don’t know what to do,” the girl breathed, removing her hat and beginning to wring the rim of it. “CC, what do I do?” she choked.

The cat smiled and put the dry toast on a plate before giving it to Hat Kid.

“Well, I’m not really sure how to cure a sick ghost, but I know we can start trying to make him feel better. Maybe some toast would settle his stomach down, hm? He’s pretty big, so I’ll make like four more for him. We’ll start with that, okay?”

Hat Kid slowly nodded, wiping her eyes. She simply stayed by Cooking Cat’s side as she toasted more bread, adding it to the growing pile on the plate. When she was finally finished, the cat patted Hat Kid on the head with one of her soft paws.

“Go on then. See if you can wake him up and get him to eat.”

Hat Kid did as she was told and bounded into her room, being careful not to drop any of the toast.

“Snatcher…! I got you some-!” Hat Kid paused when she realized that she couldn’t see Snatcher in the mountain of pillows. Had he left? Or perhaps, he was buried in the pillows. Hat couldn’t be sure.

Setting the plate down on her desk, Hat slowly treaded through the pillows, looking carefully for a mound that looked like they may have a ghost underneath. Carefully, she began to gently pull the pillows away. Sure enough, she revealed a shadowy foot. Wait- a foot?!

Her heart beating rapidly with excitement, Hat Kid began quickly pulling the rest of the pillows off as fast as she could. In moments, she finally revealed what had been hiding underneath of them.

It was Snatcher, alright. But now how Hat Kid normally saw him. Instead of a long, noodle-like ghost, what instead lied in the pillows in peace was a shadowy version of his former identity…the Prince.

Hat Kid’s breath was nearly taken away. He looked just like he had in the story book! Except for the fact that his skin was still dark hues of purple, just as Snatcher always was. She simply sat there and watched him for a moment before grabbing her umbrella. With eyes as wide as saucers, she gently poked the Prince right on the forehead.

The ghostly royal immediately let out a grunt and half opened one of his eyes before his form began to change. Immediately, his long arms propped him up, and his back arched. Large tufts of spiked fur immediately stuck up on his back as his two legs began to twist back together once again into one big, ghostly tail.

His princely attire vanished and formed back into the sleek form of the Snatcher in a matter of moments. After the ghost was done stretching like that of an overgrown cat, he let out a large yawn, holding a clawed hand in front of his mouth as he did so.

“Ughh…Waddya want, kid…? Don’t you know it’s RUDE to-.” Snatcher paused midsentence as he looked at Hat Kid. She was staring at him as if he had grown six heads atop his shoulders. Her eyes were full of astonishment, and what appeared to even be shock.

Uh…kiddo?” the ghost nervously murmured, now rubbing his claws together.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”