#watched for 7 minutes before i realised i was still alive

[mimorobo]

this link isn't a rickroll you should totally click on it (:

I trusted you

It wasn't ricktoll

Thank you

[lbibliophile-sw]

Traitor

Also on AO3 [330w] @foxquinweek - quote-altprompt 8: "how are you still alive?" & quote-altprompt 7: "I don't want to be like this forever"

For a long, frozen minute, CC-1010 and Vos lock gazes. The Commander and the Jedi. The Commander and the Traitor.

Vos should know better. He must realise that every second he spends here, he is that much closer to more of the Guard catching up. That much closer to being dealt with as the traitor he is. CC-1010 isn’t sure how he managed to corner him, they worked together often enough to know just how wily the Shadow can be.

Perhaps it has something to do with the way he looks – not older, it has been a bare few months since they last shared a case, mere weeks before everything changed – but tired. Worn down in a way that not even three years of war and gruelling undercover missions could achieve. The Commander knows well how grief can make one careless, and that everyone has a breaking point.

Movement, and a small face peers around Vos’ back, reshaping the answer even as it forms.

Oh. Of course. It shouldn’t make a difference, their orders were clear: the Jedi are traitors and are to be executed on sight. No allowance was made for age. Vos pushes the child back behind him, and he can’t help but fixate on the protective curl of his hand.

He should raise his blaster, he should shoot. Instead he just watches. Good Soldiers Follow Orders, but Fox is so sick of orders.

Quinlan starts backing towards an alley, and without ever consciously deciding to, Fox lets him go.

Even so, the delay costs him.

Commander Thire – CC-4477 now – arrives. Too late to take aim at the fleeing Jedi and his charge, but not too late to see Fox step to block the line of fire, buying the fugitives a few extra precious seconds.

CC-4477 is a Good Soldier, and takes the appropriate steps to secure the traitor before him. Fox accepts that he will face the consequences of being a good man instead.

[blvdymary]

I want to support you. ^-^ Let me send a request. How about Jonathan Crane testing his toxin on patient and he actually feels bad because she has a massive panic attack when it wears off.

|| Thank you so much girlie this means so much to me. Also, I'd like to apologise since I was gone for a long time but I was having some struggles. ANYWAYS, hope you enjoy this and ilysm !!||

Piece Of My Past

pairing: Jonathan Crane x Reader

Summary: Holding trauma to yourself might not be the best idea but what were you supposed to do? They wouldn't believe you. Now here you were, in an asylum for the things that never happened by you but to you.

Genre: Angst, fluff/comfort.

Warnings: Mentions of SA.

Word count: 1k

Note: I am alive. I think.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Ever since childhood, your parents and people around you knew something was wrong with you. At first, you were a talkative kid, but once you turned 7 you stopped talking. They tried every trick in the book to get you to open up, talk, and be happy like the other kids. Of course, you had your small circle of friends- not really, but oh well. So it wasn't a surprise to people around you when you end up in a mental asylum, Arkham, to be specific.

Walking towards a room in your straight jacket, both arms grasped tightly by security guards. They were acting as if you killed somebody! This much security for someone like you was useless, I mean, why not the guy who tried to eat their friend's arm? I swear to god, people in this city need a reality check.

The guards guided you into a small, white room with a metal table and two chairs seated across each other. What kind of psychotic shit was this? Your eyes are glued on the “restraints” as they called them, more like torture devices because what the hell is that and why is it looking like an 1890s doctor's equipment?

They sat you on the chair, putting the cuffs on your wrists and ankles to keep you in place. Why were they treating you like an object to be tossed around? So not fair. You watched as the guards left the room, leaving you to stare at the empty chair in front of you. Door, table, chair. Nothing to keep someone like you entertained.

Soon after —probably been 15 minutes, to say the least— you heard the door creaking open, revealing the oh-so Doctor Crane. Don’t get me wrong, he is a good doctor, as far as you heard, but you always thought there was something slightly off about him. Like the way, he stared deep into people’s eyes, the way he was cold as a barrel, and oh! Don’t forget that every patient he visits becomes delusional and psychotic the moment he leaves them alone with their thoughts. What is with this guy? What is he hiding?

He walked in, setting the brownish suitcase onto the table, and folded his hands on his lap. He looked like how your mom used to scold you as a child for not being expressive enough with your thoughts and feelings. His eyes stared into yours, taking you as a whole. God, why did it feel like you were in trouble or something? After a while of both of you staring at each other like two dogs, he finally spoke up with his condescending voice.

“So, I have heard you were having speech problems, and I'm here to help you, as you may know.” He put his hands on the table, still keeping his fingers interlocked to show authority. You look at him, then at his hands, and then at the suitcase. “what is that…?” you spoke silently, a bit too shy for your liking. When he realised his suitcase picked your interest, he had an idea. A not so great idea. He felt a little smirk appearing on his face before he quickly got rid of it and gazed at you. “I could show you if you want.”

“yes.” no hesitation, pure curiosity. Why would he need a suitcase to talk about your speech problem? You glued your eyes to the suitcase as he slowly opened it, not yet showing it to you. He cleared his throat, making you look up at him as he took off his glasses. Handsome, to say the least. Just as you were about to compliment his eyes, you felt some kind of gas getting sprayed onto your face, making you inhale it. You looked up at him, only to see…him.

-

Playing at the park like other kids, not yet aware of the consequences of being so pure. You didn't even notice a man approaching behind you. Feeling his gaze, you looked up, his eyes crazed but hidden behind a pair of sunglasses as he held a piece of candy towards you. “hey little girl…why don't you come with me for a while hm?” so gullible, not yet aware of how disgusting men could be. You took his hand.

-

Feeling tears streaming down your face like a waterfall, begging and screaming and crying for the pain to stop as all you could think of at that moment was your childhood. Jonathan rarely felt like this, guilty. as he heard your pleas to “get him off you” and “to let him go of you”. He stood up, looking down at your disheveled form before deciding this was enough. He grabbed another vital from the suitcase, one that he specifically made so he could use as some form of anesthesia. He opened the small bottle, spraying some onto your face as he watched you go from some kind of wild hog to a sleeping baby in minutes. He decided it would be for the best to let you rest before talking or even any word out of you.

Of course, the dreamland wasn't any peaceful as you continued to have the same past trauma repeat over and over and over again till you felt something pulling you away, the ending. Finally. You slowly felt your eyes open, pulling you away from the nightmare you just relived. You felt arms around you, was it…?

Needless to say, you weren't expecting Crane, one of the most heartless men in Gotham, to be holding you close to his chest when you woke up. You looked up at him but he stopped you, pulling you closer to his chest as he spoke in a more soft and gentle voice. “Everything is going to be alright, it wasn't your fault.” And at that moment you knew there was good in bad people, and people were willing to listen to you. For once.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

taglist: @hiraethberry @1-fuzzy-squirrels @justcallme1anangel @tejasvkris @rosierosem @meowsicles39

[itsscromp]

Hello! I'd like to request Logan Walker. There's not many Logan x reader stories around. Anything works but degradation. Thank you! 😭

Being best friends with Logan Walker

Just a friendly reminder, I am still currently playing the campaign, so some things may be incorrect But I wanted to get this one out in the open, This will be personal headcanons of my interpretation of Logan so far.

When you first met Logan, It was when you managed to finally scurry your way out of no man's land, surprisingly alive.

Being brought back to Elias, He decided to give you a chance and have you join the ghosts alongside him, Keegan, Hesh and Merrick.

Logan warmed up to you pretty quickly.

In my head I kind of see him as Johnny in a way, Always tries to find the good in everything.

It was evident how big his heart was when on missions, He noticed how small you felt originally.

While sure you can fight, Keegan and Merrick would shut you down immediately, Hesh constantly kept to himself.

It was a built-up frustration, when you headed back to base, ripping the mask off.

Giving a moment to calm you down, He gently went inside your room and sat down next to you.

"I know what it feels like y/n... To be the underdog initially. They don't mean to be that way... They're just a little stressed about trying not to die" He chuckled softly and patted your back. "But remember I got your back ok ??"

You nodded and started to smile "Ok..."

Turns out, you two had a lot in common.

Before the attack from the federation in San Diego, Logan loved to play video games.

And one day when you two were out on a mission, You began to walk back to base.

But there was something on the path inside a house that Logan missed, He saw a box seemingly undestroyed after the attack.

"Logan, come on we gotta head back to base" You noticed him stop and inspect the box.

"Gimme a minute" He opened the box and his eyes went wide. "No way !!" You could see the crow's feet in his mask.

Walking over, you found a games console inside, looking still intact 10 years later. "That's cool... But I don't know if it'll work" You chipped in.

"Well only one way to find out" He lifted the box off the ground and carried it back to base.

Meeting each other again, you found yourself trying to configure the damn thing. After some minor tweaking, you got it running.

"Looks like they still have some games in here" You pulled them out and inspected "Persona 5, Horizon Zero Dawn... Oooh Resident Evil 7"

"Oh we are so playing that" He swiped the case off of you and placed the disc in.

You watched in immense horror as he continued to play, Both jumping at the scares, Making you both laugh.

It was nice with moments like these during your downtime.

But Logan was also an amazing shoulder to cry on when things got way tough.

One mission having you come back from failing to save hostages from the federation, It broke you...

Walking to the bathroom to wash your face, Looking in the mirror. Seeing what an utter failure you were, You didn't save them.

Gripping the sink, You began to punch the mirror repeatedly, Not caring about how loud you screamed, Not caring hour your knuckles started bleeding.

Soon you felt a pair of arms pull you away from the mirror and gently sat you down.

"It's ok... I'm here y/n" He gently rubbed your back.

"I could've saved them, I could've..." You hicced.

He gently moved your face to his chest, Encouraging you to scream your emotions out. "It's ok... Let it out" He reassured.

To which you cried louder and started to scream, Screaming to the point of exhaustion.

You didn't even realise you passed out until it was the following morning.

And you found yourself, wrapped up in logan's arms, holding you close, comforting you and keeping you safe.

You two were as thick as thieves, You weren't leaving each other behind.

Not now, Not ever.

[oh-saints]

sweetest devotion (pt. 7)

maybe getting himself involved in a marriage of convenience wasn't a bad choice, after all...

playboy!mason mount x princess!OC wc: 3.7k tw: as mentioned in the masterlist only but there's none for this particular chapter (hooray!) note: this got to be the longest chapter for this series so far but i had my better days a while ago so here we are (?) hopefully this fits you all, dear mason x serena gang! but as usual, i wrote this around dawn so ofc not beta-read yet. tags: @pingyu-in-wonderland @808heartz @ironmaiden1313 @myreveriie @missgaygurl (let me know if you want to be added too!) part 6 here - part 8 here sweetest devotion masterlist

“I see you’re taking a liking towards going home early,”

while the rest of mason’s team actually paid attention to the young footballer’s recent change of habit, to actually make césar azpilicueta comment on it was another and completely different thing. the captain was well-known to be an observant most of the time, only commenting on and when necessary.

the result of his observation, though, managed to put a small smile on mason’s face.

it was rather understandable for mason to clock out earliest possible because serena was still under the doctor’s watch and jasmine, being a fellow pregnant lady, was unable to stay over for a long time. but the habit apparently didn’t undergo a drastic change, even after serena was given the green light to be released from the hospital. mason even pulled out a small trick to come home with a bouquet of different flowers every two days, in a (faux) lieu of “so the kitchen doesn’t smell bad when you’re done cooking.”

mason didn’t realise it, at first. but before the spaniard’s comment, ben chilwell actually managed to call him out first when he was ending his call with serena, asking if she needed anything else to be bought for dinner—and it took mason a long while, as he sat in his car after ben’s remark, to digest that it was indeed no longer a guilt eating him alive.

he thought of feeling guilty whenever he saw serena lying peacefully on her hospital bed, he even thought of any other possible emotion that could mirror guilt whenever he thought about serena and their child. but with elena now being legally processed for a trial, and mason kind of always made time for a dinner together with serena, the soon-to-be father realised that he wanted to come home as soon as possible.

“is your wife treating you well?”

“more than well,” mason could no longer hide his smile, albeit still smaller than the one the defender was throwing him. “I kind of understand why you guys get married.”

“good,” the senior player patted mason by the shoulder. “I like this version of you better. I hope you’re always happy with your wife.”

“me, too, césar,” and not an ounce of deceit was included in mason’s response. “me too.”

if someone had said to him marriage indulged how nice it would be to have someone waiting for you by the door as you stepped into the house, how stress-relieving it would be to see your wife’s cooking and ready to be pounced on at the end of every exhausting day… mason would’ve considered skipping countless parties till dawn peaks out from the horizon and followed declan’s footsteps of settling down early instead.

but probably, mason would’ve been tied down to the wrong person if he did that. god knows, maybe mason would’ve ended up behind the bars too, following the footsteps of his ex, if he did.

mason shuddered at the thought, pressing his eyes tightly when the red light came into view, in hope he could shed the once-wonderful dream of his to marry elena. he only opened them back when a ring broke the lonely ride home.

speaking of the devil… “mason?”

it was always funny to mason how serena would always start a phone conversation with a clarificatory question as such. “serena, I was about to call you.”

lies, because mason would always call her five minutes earlier than now whenever it was grocery days.

“are you done training?”

“I’m turning left to our block as we speak,” damn it, it would be quite a hassle if serena decided he should head for the nearest supermarket. all because he’d forgotten to call her before he started his engine, and all because he’d been thinking about her. “do you need something?”

“ah, okay then.”

but the disappointment that laced serena’s voice was indispensable. “what’s wrong?”

“no, I just—I forgot to cook today.”

mason really couldn’t help but let out a cackle over the phone as he pulled up in his garage. “seriously?”

“yes…? why are you laughing?”

“serena,” serena had opened the door and was now standing by the door as mason unfastened the seatbelt. from his point of view, serena was visibly upset. “you know we can always order in, right?”

mason didn’t leave a space for serena to reply him as he hung up the call and stepped out his car.

“but I want to cook for you,” the pout remained and mason had the sudden urge to kiss away that pout. damn it. “what kind of wife am I?”

“the best, of course,” mason grinned wider as serena turned into a shade similar to a beetroot. “definitely better if you give me a hug right now.”

mason would’ve laughed at anyone who put a bet on him falling for serena an eon ago. but now, it was rather something he looked forward to the moment he stepped in the house.

it might not be much, but it was still a start for them both, considering the beginning of their relationship looked like. it was still something for mason too because he was sure, in other circumstances, he would not dare himself to ask such thing to a stranger.

but serena was no longer a stranger, right? not when she’d seen him in desperate need of comforting embrace after chelsea’s loss against another big 6 club. right?

“come here,” and mason didn’t hesitate to take the invitation. anyone who knew the nature of their relationship—an arranged marriage, mind you—would be surprised how fluid mason could fit himself to serena’s every crook and nook. “did you have a good day?”

mason breathed in the lingering scent on serena’s shirt, a mixture of jasmine and comfort similar to the linen sheet. mason breathed in deeply because with the question and the fragrance combined, he couldn’t help but think of all things he never got to have with elena, despite being in a romantic relationship longer than the time he spent getting to know serena so far.

mason breathed in his reality.

but it seemed that his wife thought he wasn’t having the best of a day. “do you wish to talk about it?”

“I’m fine, actually,” mason grumbled against the fabric. “I just wish you’d stop being stubborn and let me hire a chef for us.”

serena pushed away mason lightly, her eyes lit up in mirth. “we’ve talked about this, mason…”

and indeed they had, mason laughed along with her at the brief reminiscent about several days after her discharge, which meant several days watching her juggling to do chores on her own after sam’s dismissal for the day. “we have enough third persons in this house, don’t you think?” mason remembered her saying nothing but the truth, but a slight pang to his chest was inevitable, nonetheless. “besides, I’d like to make myself useful in this household.”

“serena,” mason remembered thinking her last comment was so ridiculous that he had to grasp her by the shoulders, before grazing her now-slightly bulging belly when she’d stayed in place. “you’re the most useful person in this household.”

this woman went back and forth, from hell and back, for him and their child. this woman, beside her status of a princess, was everything elena could never have and could never be. how could she possibly think such thing?

“alright, you win,” mason ended the futile debate he’d always been since that day, complete with the small smile and a finger tucking in a strand of her hair behind her ear. “but I think I’ve eaten too much today. is it okay if I skip dinner tonight?”

“I forgot to cook tonight because I was actually making an apple pie this afternoon…”

“I hope you left some for me,” mason was still chuckling at serena’s demeanour shifting into a sheepish one. how could someone so calm and collected and regal in the eyes of the public, be this cute and endearing behind the curtain? “but let’s call it a night, okay? good night, princess.”

serena was certainly more than glad mason called it that way because she couldn’t afford him to see her blushing at the moniker he called her with.

＊��❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

and good sleep indeed it was.

serena couldn’t even recall the last time she slept so soundly since she moved into this house she got to call home at least until after the baby was born. there’d always be endless train of thoughts, rushing in a lighting speed even, that kept her up most of the nights.

on sundays, especially. there was a time where she couldn’t find sleep because she knew elena would be coming to the house, barging in like a truck going mad on the highway.

now that the particular problem was out of the way and more like into her way to jail, serena went even as far as oversleep last night. she woke up with a jolt when her eyes zeroed down to the number 9:00 AM flashing across her screen.

crap, she hadn’t prepared anything for mason this morning! did he leave already—“mason?”

despite her growing stomach, serena was glad she still retained her ballerina balance on her feet. if not, she would’ve stumbled upon a lying mason, right in front of her door, with a Parenting for Dummies hugged tightly to his chest.

cramped in a rather awkward position and messy locks sprawled across the carpeted floor—now-carpeted floor because mason thought it’d do good to pregnant feet than cold flooring—serena would be lying if she didn’t think the sight was endearing for her standard. “mason?”

the footballer groaned when called, bringing the parenting book closer to his chest. as if it was his plush toy. for god’s sake, he was soon to be a father, he shouldn’t be allowed to be this cute.

“mason,” serena crouched down beside her husband, shaking his body as ferocious as her frail body could because she didn’t want him to wake up with a sore body. “mason, wake up. you’re late to training.”

he hummed as a response, but it seemed that the last sentence was working well because suddenly his eyes shot open. serena stepped back and laughed at his comical reaction, to which mason responded with a whining groan. “why didn’t you wake me up?”

“excuse me, am I not waking you up now?” serena’s eyebrows furrowed accusingly but her smile was anything but. the glint in her eyes was close to a mirth, too, and mason decided he could now truck through the gaffer’s upcoming long speech on his tardiness. or any other berating session, if it meant being granted by this same sight every morning. “but mason, what are you doing here?”

mason scratched the back of his neck, sheepishly. “I fell asleep here.”

“no, I mean, why are you sleeping here?”

“I’m making sure no one barges into the house and attack you again,” the regret lacing mason’s eyes deeply radiated down serena. the woman would very much like to envelope him in a warm embrace if she was given the chance. “I don’t think I can live through the pain again.”

“mason…”

“I mean it when I said I’m truly sorry, serena,” the princess had to hold back her gasp when she noticed the shift in his eyes, glazing regret to determination in a split second. “I know you said you forgive me and all that jazz, but I know when I said to tell me how I can make it all up to you.”

serena had to remind herself to breathe, as she was unable to look away from the intense wave of emotion mason was showcasing. the reminder resulted in a shaky intake of air, depicting perfectly what she was feeling inside.

serena wanted to put the entire blame to her pregnancy hormones but she knew better. she needed mason to be acting nonchalantly towards her existence if she wanted to survive this marriage unscathed—no physical scars, no emotional damage inflicted, and certainly no broken heart to mend.

“how about you give me a ride to the hospital today, hm?” serena lightly cough to cover her nervousness as she tried to lift herself to stand. “least you won’t lie about dropping me off first.”

unfortunately, one cannot change overnight and therefore she had mason on his feet first so he could help her stand up, lifting serena by the waist as if she didn’t resemble a whale at this point. “how about I skip practice for the day and come with you wherever you want to go instead?”

while his arm was around her waist and his hand was grasping her hand tightly so she wouldn’t fall, serena glanced up in disbelief. is he joking? I hope he is because the last time he came with me, he left me stranded…

the rare slip of emotion—going from disbelief to disappointment—on the princess’ ever-composed face didn’t escape the corner of mason’s eyes, and he knew immediately what she was thinking of. a little smile, pressed by the guilt of having mistreated her, shadowed against his demeanour.

“I have an overdue visit to see my little man, don’t you think?”

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

“there he is!” the doctor proclaimed rather excitedly—gone was her frightening exterior the last time mason and serena met her shortly after elena’s mess. “I see he’s rather happy inside there, look at that smile!”

while serena and the doctor shared some laughter between them, mason could only stand there, frozen like a fridge in the wrong place, sore like a misplaced nail. he couldn’t believe his eyes—flashed before him was the black and white, 3D picture of his son. for the first time, mason got to see the lid of his eyes, the sharp nose, his pouty lips. the footballer could even see the weird combination of him and serena, despite the lack of colour and shape from the photo.

for the first time, mason could finally put down the literal meaning of his flesh and blood, his ultimate treasure,and it was nothing short of an incredible feeling.

it was a rather pleasant feeling, wonderful like mason could now burst in the sky happily… yet he also had to overcome this protective urge inside of him so no one could put his mini-me in danger. he’d never wanted to even punch himself for all the things he’d put the little guy and his mother through.

why didn’t he come to see this sooner?

mason had to press his lips tightly, in order to keep his emotions in check. he couldn’t cry—he shouldn’t—not when he was the one who’d once put the both of them in a game of death with god. not when he hadn’t earned his forgiveness, not when he knew he had a thousand pile of work to do to ensure both serena and his son lived without having to go through another ounce of pain in their lives.

“you’ve done well too so far, you’re doing so well,” mason whispered gently to serena’s stomach, the way he’d been doing every chance he got and every chance he was allowed to, when it was back to the two—or three���of them in the room. “we’re nearing the end, my boy. please hang in there because I can’t wait to see you,”

serena would be lying if the sight before her didn’t send warmth all over her body.

“thank you, serena,” mason whispered to her this time, his eyes met hers while he was crouching down, as he wiped off the ultrasound gel from her protruding belly. now that he got a closer look, he could point out some bulges showing up here and there momentarily and he smiled wider—despite the initial pursed lips—because that’s some strong kick, my boy. “thank you for everything you’ve done for our little guy.”

from the look mason casted to her, serena could pick out the fact he was being earnest and as genuine as his actions post the incident with elena. at that moment, despite whatever would happen between the two of them, serena concluded that she was glad mason mount was the father to her baby and pleased that she got to share her first pregnancy with someone that truly put her needs above anything else, someone who actually understood the job a father entailed, and not just merely words promised.

despite whatever was going to happen later on, serena was filled with warmth and happiness because she knew, mason would never let her fight alone, at least for things concerning their son.

“mrs. mount—I’m sorry, I’ll be back later!”

the nurse’s sudden entrance snapped the intricate moment, and serena was rather relieved because of it. god knows what would happen if the silent continued and allowed her to think of things she would rather forbid herself from pondering, considering their contractual relationship and all…

she shouldn’t be thinking about the extent of mason’s outmost care. it definitely didn’t include her, and she agreed herself that he was a wonderful father. of course it was only limited and directed for their son.

“no, no need,” serena instantly tried to sit herself up but mason—fortunately not being the one carrying the baby—beat her to it, and before she could do it her own, mason had already stood close by behind her, steadying her body as serena slowly gained her balance in sitting. “is there anything I forgot?”

“just want to remind you that your counselling session’s in 15.”

both mason and serena halted their movements. serena from the realisation that she had indeed forgot there was another place she had to visit—being around mason lately kind of put such urgent matters aside because he was almost everything she could ask for—and mason from the shock that serena submitted herself to seek a professional help, something he didn’t know of.

what kind of husband, especially the father-to-be, that didn’t know his own wife’s health record?

what kind of husband, especially the father-to-be, put his own wife to a condition that required her to seek help?

a terrible one, for sure.

and he vowed to change that.

it was the very least mason could do, after all things serena had gone through due to his recklessness. mason should make her life easier—if he couldn’t do that by far, he should do it for the remaining of the pregnancy. he should buy her the best stuffs, he should make her the best meals, he should take her to the best places…for the sake of the baby’s prenatal environment, mason replayed the sentence all over again like a broken mantra.

but of course, we knew better.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

“what do you think of the bridge?”

it was another dinner shared over the countertop of their kitchen but considering mason had a home game tomorrow and therefore forbade mason from consuming nothing else than his strict diet, the footballer took control of the wheel. so instead of serena cooking from behind the corner, mason could be found channelling his inner masterchef self.

“I’d rather not say anything that can offend you, being a childhood fan and all,” serena put her chin on top of her palm, resulting her cheeks to be squished due to the friction against two surfaces of her skin, and mason wondered if a pregnant lady could be this endearing. “because I’ve never been.”

mason’s face contorted to all ways in utter shock. “never? at all?”

serena laughed at his comical response, as she always does. mason was effortlessly funny in her standard.

“okay then, it’s settled,” mason decided firmly when serena shook her head to answer his question. “you’re so watching me tomorrow. would you be comfortable going out?”

serena’s mind went blank for a couple of seconds. while her trauma of seeing people she didn’t know was now growing less and less each day, she doubted her ears. mason despised the idea of being in a public place with her in tow unless it was an official event occurred by the palace.

but she couldn’t shake off the giddiness inside of her because she would be going out, after all. mason being more protective since the incident with elena surely should be cut off a bit, or serena would go crazy being confined in the mansion alone for far too long.

and that mason also knew she’d always watch his matches from home. now that he was offering her to watch live, up-close and personal, serena couldn’t also shrug off the niggling feeling in her stomach…

is he being kind because he now knows I’m under a psychological watch or something?

“do you not want to go?” it was serena that had all these sort of uncontrollable thoughts and yet mason still ensured she was on board with his idea. it was getting harder each day to believe what mason said about trying to be a good father when he already projected himself as one. “if so, that’s also fine.”

“I—I—I do want to go,” serena tried to gather herself as quick as possible. if the palace found out about it, she’d definitely be enrolled again to the public appearance etiquette class. “but do you really want me to be there?”

mason tilted his head in confusion, not seeing where the problem was. “I wouldn’t be asking if I don’t want you there.”

“why would you want us to be there?”

“why wouldn’t I want my wife and child to be there?”

mason might be shrugging as he went back to cook the simple, healthy meal for the both of them, as if his answer was to be expected, but serena had to swallow the bitter bile down her throat. mason might be shrugging, as if it was the most natural thing for them, as if they were real, as if he just didn’t stir something inside of serena—of what, she didn’t know.

and frankly she didn’t want to know, for she was afraid it might not be as what she hoped it was.

next chapter contains:

what if i tell you we're no longer far apart? serena's heart skipped a beat. what the hell was that supposed to mean? look around. and there he was, dapper and dashing as if the look didn't obliterate her poor heart.

[scullysexual]

You're Never Just Anything To Me (6)

@today-in-fic | ao3 | Prev. Chapter

A look into Mulder and Scully’s relationship starting from Millennium going all the way up to Requiem.

VI. Signs and Wonders.

He wakes naturally. Devoid of the usual sluggishness comes with a 6:30 start. The sun appeared brighter, what beams peak through the slight break in the curtain, unusual for this time in April.

Scully is dead weight next to him, Mulder knows even the alarm clock struggles to wake her up. She is bare and warm next to him in his bed, on a school night. He still smiles thinking of how he convinced her to stay over on a Wednesday and he didn’t need broken heaters or traumatic events this time.

He thinks about that alarm and frowns, he doesn’t remember waking up to its annoying sound.

And he quickly realises why.

08:47 glares back at him in big red letters. He stares in horror as the last digit flips to an 8.

“Oh shit!”

The relaxing morning he thought he was going to have has now been bulldozed over by panic and chaos. He pulls on his boxers and the pants from yesterday that had been discarded on the floor the night before. Still bare chested, he leans over, furiously trying to shake Scully awake.

An impossible even when they weren’t running late.

Scully shrugs his hand away from her, rolling away from him. He sighs.

“No Scully, we have a meeting today, you’ve gotta get up,” he says trying to rouse her.

“5 minutes…” she answers but the end trails off as she falls back under.

“No, no minutes.” It was 08:53 now. “You’ve got 7 minutes to get up and get to work.”

That works. She flips over, eyes wide.

“We’re late?” she asks horrified.

Mission accomplished, Mulder climbs off her and starts trying to locate his shirt.

“Yes!”

She rips back the covers and immediately darts into the bathroom, taking her neatly folded clothes with her (because he watched her fold her clothes last night and laughed at her while she did. “It’s a pointless task, Scully,” he’d told her) He couldn’t even appreciate her naked body because he was still trying to find his shirt. So much for pointless tasks…

He's found it when she emerges and it’s 08:57.

“This is your fault,” Scully says. She brushes her hair as they make their way to the elevator.

“What did I do?” Mulder asks. He spams the elevator button. “The clock was on your side, you were in charge of setting it.”

“I’m not even supposed to be here.”

When they get to the parking lot they realise their next problem.

“I don’t have time to get my car,” she says with fear.

Not that it mattered anyway. Her car was still in the FBI garage because she went home with him.

“Get in,” Mulder says, he still holds the door open for her. “Maybe we’ll get there on time.”

But it was already 09:02.

…

The budget staff were growing increasingly restless.

Skinner glares at the two vacant chairs. Perhaps if he burns a hole into them his two truant agents might just appear.

Of course that doesn’t work.

He looks to the clock that reads 09:09 and then back to the staff.

“I’ll see if I can locate them,” he says.

He has Kimberly call both their home phones and cell phones. All four of which go through to voicemail. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t worried. Mulder was often late, that part didn’t concern him. It was Scully. In the six years he’d known her, she had never been late to anything, often arriving before anyone else had even got there. If she wasn’t here it usually meant she wasn’t here.

He sticks his head out into the long corridor looking both ways, still seeing nothing. The elevator doors opening grabs his attention and he sees his two missing agents fly out of it.

“We’re here! We’re here!” Mulder yells and Scully trails behind him.

First is the relief that spreads through him. They were still alive, thank god. Next, it’s frustration.

“You were supposed to be here…” he looks at his watch. “…11 minutes ago, Agent Mulder. Both of you.” Scully uncharacteristically cowers, moving slightly to hide behind Mulder. “What happened?”

“A kid got run over.”

“We got stuck in traffic.”

They both speak simultaneously. Skinner just stares at them.

“One at a time perhaps?” he says.

“A kid got ran over,” says Mulder.

“We got stuck in traffic,” says Scully.

Skinner sighs. He doesn’t exactly believe them but what cause would they have to lie. Then he properly looks at them. He doesn’t pay attention to what people usually wear but he’s sure he saw them wearing those clothes yesterday.

“A kid got ran over and we got stuck in traffic because of it,” clarifies Mulder.

“Both of you?” asks Skinner.

Mulder nods.

“Don’t you live in opposite directions? Take different roads?”

He watches as Mulder and Scully look at each other. Yep, they were definitely holding something back.

“They’re waiting for you now, sir,” Kimberly utters behind him.

The meeting Skinner remembers. He’ll interrogate them later. For now. He opens the door and lets them in. Kimberly opens the other door for all three of them. They sit down and the meeting can finally start. Skinner tries to pay attention but his focus keeps going over to the other two. Somebody asks him a question but Skinner doesn’t hear it. Is that a hickey on Mulder’s neck?

…

“A kid got ran over?!” Scully almost yells as she pushes her way into their office. “You couldn’t have just said what I said?”

“Next time we need to plan our excuse,” says Mulder tossing his blazer to the side and sits down in his chair. “Do you think Skinner knows?”

Scully laughs. “Skinner definitely knows, Mulder.” Scully sits in the guest chairs facing him. “Question is, when he is going to ask us about it.”

“What makes you think Skinner will ask us about it?”

Just then there’s a knock on the door. Scully goes pale. Mulder stands, tepidly making his way to the door. He lingers for a moment wishing the office door came with a peep hole.

“It’s me, Mulder,” Skinner’s voice sounds through the door.

Without any other option, Mulder opens it. “Sir,” he greets. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Skinner steps in, closing the door behind him. He stands about awkwardly. The basement always felt crowded when there was more than two people in it or maybe Scully had just become used to her and Mulder being the only occupants.

“I’m not stupid,” Skinner says and Scully clutches the edges of her seat. “I’ve heard the rumours.” Scully eyes meet Mulders. They both know just what rumours Skinner is referring to. “I need to know, off the record, for the…safety of everyone involved…Are the rumours true?”

Mulder and Scully look at each other again, each waiting for the other to proceed and take the lead.

“You can lie, of course, but I know there was no kid ran over,” he looks at Mulder. “Or traffic to be stuck in,” he looks at Scully who immediately looks away. “And your clothes and that…mark,” he looks so incredibly uncomfortable. “give cause to say that someone wasn’t alone last night. Now if it was with other people then that is your business but if you spent it with each other then, unfortunately, it becomes my business.”

Scully thinks, wondering just what she should say. There’s no point in lying, he’s pretty much sussed them out but how to confirm it was another matter.

“Off the record?” asks Mulder, he looks briefly at Scully. Of course he was doing this for her sake. Mulder’s made it clear in the past that he doesn’t care who knows about their relationship, it was always her that had issues.

“Yes,” says Skinner.

“Yeah, the rumours are true.”

Skinner looks to Scully for confirmation. She nods, smiling awkwardly. She wonders, for a second, if he might congratulate them, if he might grab a chair and exclaim ‘Finally!’, asking for all the details but one look at him and seeing his face have the faintest tint of pink covering it tells her otherwise.

“Very well,” says Skinner beginning to make his way back towards the door. “Thank you for being honest with me.” He has the door open now and coughs. “I need your expense reports by noon,” he says and it’s business as usual. “The budget staff are requesting it.”

“Of course,” says Scully happy now that that conversation is over.

Skinner nods them farewell, still looking from one to the other awkwardly, before he leaves and Mulder closes the door behind him. Listening as his boss’s footsteps get further away he turns towards Scully, grinning.

“Now he knows does this mean we can have sex in the office now?”

Scully just glares at him.

…

“So Skinner knows now, huh?”

They stand in the FBI garage, another workday behind them, and only one more day to go before he can finally have Scully back in his bed. They stand at their respective cars, Scully having made it very clear that she didn’t want a repeat of this morning.

“He does,” Scully agrees, tossing her bag into the front passenger seat.

“How do you feel? I know you wanted to keep quiet…”

“Honestly? Relieved actually.”

“Really?” That surprises him.

“Yeah. It feels less like we’re teenagers trying to hide our relationship from our parents and more like actual adults.” He smiles. “Besides we can’t hide it forever. Oh, that reminds me.”

“Yeah?”

“I can’t do Friday.”

His stomach sinks. “What? Why not?”

Friday is their night, what else could be so important that—But Scully is smiling, brightly, like she can barely contain it.

“I have an appointment. About my ova,” she adds at Mulder’s questioning look. “To see if it’s viable.”

“Well shit, Scully…” A grin forms onto his own face then. “That’s great. You’ll tell me what they say, yeah?”

“Of course.”

They climb into their own cars then and Mulder watches as she pulls out and drives away. His stomach twists. He was happy, of course, for Scully, she’s wanted a baby for as long as he’s known her but the thought of him being the father…His own father wasn’t very good, he couldn’t even keep his little sister from being taken. What if he’s just as bad with their baby? What if he’s just bad?

…

He itches to call her. He bounces his basketball instead.

It’s Saturday morning, at this time he and Scully might have just woken up, another hour would pass before they ordered breakfast, half hour before they found themselves back in bed again. It was a routine he’d gotten use to, every Saturday (unless on assignment in which case that still wouldn’t stop them) she would be here and today she wasn’t.

The ball bounces out of his hands and Mulder sits down. He grabs the case they’re currently working on- some religious thing- and tries to focus on that instead.

About 10 minutes into reading the case there’s a knock on the door. Mulder frowns, the Gunmen maybe? He walks over to it and opens it.

And there stands Scully.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi.”

She doesn’t seem distressed, she doesn’t seem angry or upset. She seems…content.

“Are you gonna let me in?” she asks with a knowing smile.

“Of course.” He pushes the door open wider and moves out the way. “I didn’t think you would be here today,” he says shutting the door and putting the latch back on it.

“I was bored.” She spins around to look at him. “I thought about calling but I wanted to tell you the news in person.”

Was it what he thought it was? Mulder makes his way back to the couch. He sits though Scully remains standing.

“Dr Parenti thinks there’s potential.”

A smile breaks out across his face. “Scully, that’s amazing.” And Scully can’t contain her own smile any longer.

“Yeah, it is. It really is.”

They stare at each other, smiling for a few minutes longer.

“Uh…Dr Parenti said we could start right away. That’s if…you’re still interested?”

His smile fades as does hers, a worried look crossing it.

“Scully, I—”

“It’s fine,” she interrupts. She bites her lip and he can see her trying to keep the disappointment, the tears at bay. She’s got it wrong. “I knew it was a big ask, I just thought…”

Mulder shakes his head, standing up from the couch and going over to her. He holds her in his arms. She still spirals.

“Scully,” he says more firmly to stop her rambling. “My answer is still yes.”

She stops suddenly then, looking at him. “But I thought…”

“Sit down. Please. I think we need to talk.”

She does so, sitting down beside him, far enough away so they can see each other easily. It’s so unusual for them not to be touching that Mulder reaches out and grabs her hand, pulling it towards him.

“Scully…I have my fears,” he says watching as his fingers circle her palm. “My own father wasn’t very good and I don’t know if I’ll be the same…”

“Mulder?” He looks up at her then, sees the love and understanding in her eyes. “We’ll figure it out together, okay.”

Because of course they will. They do everything together. He nods and she leans towards him, kissing him. Mulder pulls her closer and she sits in his lap facing him, their usual Saturday routine.

He lets himself get excited about the prospect of a baby. Wills his fears away, riding solely on Scully’s strength and belief that he’d be a good dad. He can picture it; a child with fire for hair and a forest landscape for eyes, a perfect combination of his reckless curiosity and her cautious inquisitiveness. He hugs her to him, his head resting on her chest as her hands stroke through his hair. He believes in this possibility.

Later when the sun is hanging low and she is quiet and sleepy in his arms he brings the subject back up.

“It was never a big ask, Scully.”

“What do you mean?” she asks.

He’s quiet for a moment and his silence makes her look up at him.

“I guess…I think there’s a end in sight, Scully.”

“You mean with the X-Files?”

“Yeah. A natural end, not one brought on by higher ups or office fires.” He sighs and Scully hangs on to every word. “I think it’s an end of my choosing- our choosing- It feels right.”

It’s Scully’s turn to be quiet as she takes it all in.

“What about Samantha?”

He thinks of the clones, of the little girls in the field, of the visions Cancer Man handed him.

“I think there’s a universe out there where she’s happy, where she is loved.” He looks at Scully with a soft smile. “I think I can believe that. I think that’s what I want to believe.”

She smiles back at him.

“It’s not gonna stop me from going looking for Big Foot or aliens or whatever.” She laughs, affectionately rolling her eyes. “But I think the main quest, the main search…I can see an end. I think I’m ready to get out of the car.”

Scully sits up, moving to straddle his hips. Her lips touch his, kissing him slowly. The car stops and Mulder climbs out, the door locking itself behind him.

[nhstadler]

3 9 7  P A G E S

Hey everyone! I realised it's been forever since I posted anything and since I'm not quite finished with the chapter, I thought I'd at least post a story snippet to let you know that I haven't fogotten about you and about HNTBAW. It's just been a little much lately and I've been struggling with writer's block (as always).

But anyway, this is a random scene from the post Hogwarts series (which I might title A Catalogue of Us). It's kind of a flashback memory sort of thing and maybe it's a little confusing and sad, but maybe some of you enjoy it. I hope you had wonderful holidays / Christmas if you celebrate it and I promise I'm still writing.

Let me know what you think if you feel like it... hearing from you guys always helps my motivation, honestly :)

When James fell, the world stood still. I stood still. 

Sometimes I still dream about it. His muddled form falling through the sky, the burst of levitation spells in the pouring rain, like perverse fireworks, missing him again and again and again. There was nothing anyone could have done and yet… 

And yet.

I take a sip of my coffee, trying to banish the scraps of the nightmare that still cling to my mind as I wrap the blanket tighter around my shoulders. The air is crisp, laced with salt and the subtle sweetness of the heather that grows along the cliffside, trembling in the breeze. I’ve been staring at the horizon for almost an hour, watching the darkness fade into that bluish glow that only exists in these few minutes before sunrise, when the world is in-between. Like the sky holds its breath for just a moment.

Like I held my breath when I was an ocean away, unpacking my old life into my new flat, barely paying attention to Ludo Bagman’s tinny commentary in the background. I didn’t even know why I had turned on the match in the first place. I should have stayed away, taken advantage of the physical distance, but there was comfort in the familiarity of it. In hearing his name chanted by thousands of voices. I missed him and I hated him a little for it. And then I heard the screams. 

I thought I had lost him before, but this was so much worse.

***

The room is bright, made of sun-drenched walls and filled with flowers and too many people. But I barely notice. James isn’t moving. There is a tangle of tubes, pumping healing potion from the IV bags into his system, mending his broken bones and his cuts and gashes as much as it can. But even magic can only do so much. 

Ginny sees me first. I’m lingering in the doorway like an intruder, not sure if I have a right to be here. I couldn’t not come. I don’t know what to say, though. My throat closes off when our gaze meets over the hospital bed. She’s clutching James’s hand in both of hers like she’s holding on for dear life, her eyes brimming with tears, and I’m crying too, biting my bottom lip to keep myself from sobbing.

“Seth!” Lily calls out, making both Harry and Al look up, but I still don’t know if I’m welcome. Not until Ginny lets go of her son and extends her hand towards me, the faintest of smiles curving her mouth as she summons me to his bedside.

I want to touch him, to feel that he is still here, warm and real and alive, but I don’t dare. There are too many IV lines and bandages and I’m afraid I might hurt him. “How - how is he?”

It’s a useless question, I know it, but there’s still the naive hope that the answer might have changed. That he’ll open his eyes and give me that infuriating half-smile, calling me Woodley and telling me that everything will be alright.

“I’m sorry,” someone says behind me and I turn around to look at the healer that has come into the room. “Only family is allowed in here.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry.” 

I make to get up, wiping away the tears with shaky fingers, but Ginny’s hand circles my wrist, her bloodshot gaze firmly on the woman in the lime green coat. “She is.”

***

I wanted to buy him some magazines, but half of the stock in the small St. Mungo’s kiosk is about brooms and Quidditch and the other half are gaudy newspapers that still seem to be in a competition over who can print the most disturbing pictures of James plummeting through the air. I was ready to give up and settle on the Kneazle Lover’s Digest when I saw the flashy book pyramid by the checkout. 

“I got you something.” I’m barely in the room when I hold up the shiny hardback with the gaudy cover and James raises an eyebrow at the shirtless guy that takes up most of the front.

“Holy Morgan, what is that, Woodley?” He lets his head fall to the side, smiling at me, even though he is too weak to move. Bruises and scratches still paint brutal patterns across his skin, covering his face and neck, his shoulders, his ribs, but they’re healing. 

Unlike his legs. 

“They had it in the hospital bookshop!” I can barely contain my excitement as I sit down in the chair next to his bed, thumbing through the pages, because this feels like a sign. A very dumb sign, but a sign nonetheless, and I’ll take anything I can get. “No way!” I press the open page against my mouth, my eyebrows arching at James over the edge of the book.

“What?” He’s frowning, amusement still tugging on the corners of his mouth. 

“It’s set in the 1800s.” 

He groans, though the grin on his face definitely dampens the effort. Rain is lashing against the windows, drowning out the steady drip of the IVs and, for a moment, it feels like it used to. Like Sunday mornings at his and Freddie’s flat, when he would refuse to get up and pull me back into bed with him.

“I’m so excited.”

“I bet.” He’s laughing, properly now, and my heart flutters behind my chest. It should know better. Especially because I saw her name flash across his phone screen last night before I left. “How long is that damn thing?”

I flip to the very back of the book, catching a few of the final words even though I try to not read them. “397 pages.”

***

“How many pages?”

He used to ask how many chapters. Then it turned to pages. Because he knows it too - that we only exist like the words on paper, between the pages. Until we reach the last one. The last sentence. 

“191.”

When the story ends, so do we. But ours is a tragedy. Maybe it was always meant to be.

I come back every day. I sit next to his bed and read A Witch’s Guide to Rakes and Romance, blushing fiercely at the spicy scenes but reading it all. James covers Lily’s ears when she’s cuddled up next to him and she complains loudly while Al and Freddie laugh and Harry and Ginny exchange soft, tired smiles.

Sometimes, the room is crowded. Sometimes, it’s just us - James and me and the steady whirring of the machines - and I read to him until he falls asleep. I read to him until twilight creeps into the room and we have to turn on the neon hospital lights. 

I read to him until he can feel his legs again. 

Until the IV lines become less.

Until he can sit up by himself.

“How many?” He says and I don’t look at him.

“16.”

It’s the last chapter. And, though I know that it’s time to go, that this semi-real version of us has an expiration date, I dread every page I turn.

“What if you stayed?” James says, quietly, and I feel like I might choke. I can barely breathe.

What if I stayed?

“I - I can’t.” My fingers are clenching the book in my lap, digging into the cover for something to hold on to. This feels awful, like a second break-up, and I wish I could just fold myself into his arms. 

But I can’t and he doesn’t argue. Because he knows me too well.

His lips are pressed together as he nods, a tear sliding down the side of his face into his pillow and I’m crying too. When he reaches out, I take his hand and weave my fingers through his, careful to not dislodge the catheter in the back of his hand.

“Do you want to hear the ending now?” I ask, wiping the tears from my cheeks, and his gaze slides from my face to the book in my lap, to our intertwined fingers.

“No.” I feel his hold on me loosen, his hand slipping out of my grasp a little. “I don’t want to know how it ends.”

[hellfirexhoe]

Death of Me - Chapter 7: Curveball

Chapter 7 | Series Masterlist

2.5k words

Warnings: 18+ content, minors DNI, pregnancy, angst, injuries mentioned, maybe there's some smut in this chapter idk, you might want the tissues for this one too to be honest.

"Please tell me who 'us' is referring to. Because I know its not you and I." 

Eddie knows what you're referring to, he knows deep down. He knew the second the words left your mouth. He thinks part of him was suspicious when he felt the gentle curve of your belly against his body.

"Eddie, I wanted to tell you but then everything with Chrissy happened and I couldn't find you to tell you before it all went to hell."

Eddie is shaking, ghostly white and staring into space,

"How, uh, how long have you known?" His voice is still hoarse,

"The night you met my parents I realised I was late. But I didn't test until the Friday." He nods, trying to do the maths but his brain is currently offline.

"How long? Like how, how many months or is it weeks?" 

"14 weeks." Eddie watches as you grab your purse from the floor where it had fallen when he grabbed you. You hand him the envelope with the sonograms in, 

"Shit." He drops the sonogram into his lap, hands shaking too much to hold onto it.

"Please tell me what you're thinking, Eddie." He glances up from the sonograms in his lap, abject terror on his face,

"It's triplets?!" 

"What? Oh! I - " you cut yourself off with your own laughter, helpless for a few seconds while Eddie protests that this is not funny, not at all.

"Eddie, sweetheart, it's one baby. Its just three photos." You manage to breathe out between fits of giggles, watching the relief wash over his face, the colour returns a small amount to his face, relief of there only being one baby as opposed to three overrides his initial panic.

"And it's mine?"

"Excuse me?" You raise an eyebrow at him as you pick up the sonograms from his lap and tuck them away into their envelope carefully. "Seriously?" 

"No, shit, no I didn't mean it to come out like that. More like, are you sure?"

"Eddie, you are digging yourself into an extremely deep hole right now."

"Fuck! Okay, let me try again, are you sure you really want to have my baby? Like I'm not exactly the poster child of having a healthy parental unit. I don't want to fuck a kid up like that." Oh, oh that's not as bad as what you thought he was trying to say. 

"You think I'd let you be a shitty parent?" You drop down in front of him, resting on your knees, taking his hands in yours, "Eddie, I detect even a hint of you being a shitty parent and I'm stepping in. We're a team, I'm not leaving this baby on the doorstep of your trailer and swanning off to Hollywood. We're in this together, if that's what you want." 

Eddie nods, tears in his big brown eyes, wondering how he got so lucky that even after all the shit he's put you through you're willing to forgive him and even want to have his baby.

"Team Munson?" He manages to speak finally, furiously wiping at his eyes,

"Go team." You tease, shifting up so you can plant a kiss on his nose. He pulls you close, shifting you sideways onto his lap,

"I know literally nothing about babies, you're aware of that right? Like this kid is going to be wearing diapers backwards unless you're there."

"And I've obviously raised many children in my lifetime?" You quirk an eyebrow at him, 

"Fair. Fair."

"Are you okay?" 

"Yeah. Just, um, just a lot to take in." Eddie rubs your arm, hoping to reassure you.

"It is. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to just dump it on you like that."

"No? Did you have something planned?"

You shake your head, "What in the 15 minutes between finding out you're alive to getting here? I was busy wondering if this was real."

"Yeah I'm right there with you on the wondering if this is real. Can I see those pictures again?" You hand the envelope back to Eddie, a small smile playing on your lips as you watch him bringing the images closer to his face, 

"Want to know something funny?" Eddie looks up at you expectantly, you turn the photo slightly so you can point to your baby's nose, "Wayne says that's a Munson nose if he's ever seen one." Eddie peers closer still and laughs,

"He's not wrong." Then it dawns on him, "Shit. Wayne knows?" You nod, "So I get to have a safe sex lecture as well as a very specific how dare you pretend to be dead lecture?"

"I mean, he'll be justified in giving you both." You put a hand over the small swell of your stomach, lifting the shirt that covers you to emphasise your point. Eddie's eyes follow your hand and he reaches out,

"Can I touch?" He hesitates, waiting for your approval, 

"You can, but you won't be able to feel kicking or anything for a while." You slip your hand over his as he places his hand down gently, softly stroking your bump, you rest your head on his shoulder carefully and he tips his head to rest on yours. Eddie recalls something he once said to you and chuckles softly, you tilt your head to look up at him, curious as to what's tickled him,

"Told you I'd get you pregnant some day." You roll your eyes,

"I'm not putting the uniform on." You stick your tongue out at him, recalling his other comments that evening.

"But you'd look so cute, all round with my baby in your uniform." 

"It's not happening!" You laugh at the mock devastation on his face, wrapping a hand around his neck to pull him closer into a kiss, Eddie's own arms wrapping around you and pulling you close until he flinches slightly.

"Ow." You slip off his lap onto the sofa next to him, kneeling as you look for the source of his discomfort, Eddie lifts his shirt slightly but is reassured by the lack of further injury, and so makes grabby hands at you, pulling you back onto his lap,

"You think you're getting away that easy? Nice try." Your sassy retort to this is interrupted by the sound of a door opening at the top of the stairs,

"Hey, uh guys? I'm just gonna take Dustin to go visit Max, so you've got the place to yourselves for while. Don't break anything." Steve calls down to you both, unsure of what position he'd find you both in if he went into the basement, opting to remain at the top of the stairs.

"Fucking finally." Eddie whispers to you as the door shuts, pulling your body flush to his, a filthy smile on his face, that disappears as he starts kissing your neck,

"Are you really trying to fuck in Harrington's basement?" You giggle as you feel his hands sliding from your waist to your butt, Eddie pulls away from you,

“Actually… can we? I mean with you being, like, is it safe?” 

“For me? Yes, for you?” You vaguely gesture at his torso, “I don’t want to fuck up any healing or anything.”

“Guess you’ll just have to be gentle with me then.” Eddie smirks as he pulls you back to him, one hand tangled in your hair, the other slipping into your trousers, toying with you through your underwear, you whimper into the kiss and Eddie pulls away enough to speak,

“You good?” He’s practically panting as he speaks, forehead resting on yours, brown eyes practically staring into your soul,

“Mhm. More. Please.” You shift your hips against his hand desperate for more, Eddie contemplates making you work for it, beg for it, but he’s just as eager as you, so he pulls your underwear to the side, fingers finding your clit almost instantly, your hips seemingly developing a mind of their own as they rock against Eddie’s hand,

“Shit, you just going to use my hand to get off?” Eddie bites softly at your shoulder when you don’t reply, making you cry out, “Asked you a question.” 

“N-no, not using you. Just feels so good.” Eddie’s fingers trace mindless patterns around your clit, a smile on his face as he watches you fall apart before he’s even stripped you of your clothes.

“Up. Now.” You stand before him, shimmying out of your trousers after he unbuttons them and pulls them down to your thighs, giving Eddie a chance to rid himself of his sweatpants, tugging them down,

“Do you mind if I keep my shirt on?” You can see the insecurity plain as day on his face,

“Of course I don’t mind.” You reassure him as you slip your legs to either side of his, using a hand to guide his face to yours, capturing his lips in an all consuming kiss. Eddie’s hands find their way to your waist, sliding up until he’s got your breasts in his hands, 

“F-fuck, did these get bigger?” Eddie gasps as he pulls away from you, one hand coming away from your chest to lift your shirt, grinning like a cheshire cat, “Shit. You have no idea how fucking hot you look.” His hands fly to your back, undoing your bra and pulling your shirt off at lightning speed before he’s burying his face between your breasts like a man possessed. 

You roll your hips on him, just once, just enough to pull him out of his stupor, enough to bring him back to his senses as you slip your hand into his boxers and wrap a hand around his length, taking him out of his boxers and lining him up with your entrance, 

“May I?” You ask, a teasing lilt in your tone, Eddie nods, biting his lip,

“Take it baby, it’s all yours.” You sink down slowly, arms around Eddie’s shoulders holding him close, you shut your eyes as you feel the slight sting of your body adjusting to him.

“No, no, eyes on me, let me see you.” Eddie tips your chin with a gentle touch, his brown eyes lock onto yours and it's intoxicating, you can’t look away, not even when you start to lift yourself and slowly sink back down, drawing out lustful moans from both of you.

“Missed this. Missed you.” Eddie moans, big hands holding you by the waist, holding you close and supporting you, your own hands are tangled in his long hair, holding his forehead to yours as you pant and whine,

“Missed you so much. Love you so much.” Eddie smiles breathlessly at your words, silently wondering if maybe he did die and now he’s in heaven.

“You still with me, pretty boy?” You tease Eddie, noticing his blissed out expression, he nods, hands tightening on your hips as he raises his own to meet you halfway,

“This feels like heaven.” He pants, “You’re so tight and so, f-fucking wet.” You feel yourself throb at his words, the sudden squeeze making Eddie groan, loudly, “Not to be cheap but I really fucking love you.”

You speed up ever so slightly, a smile on your face as you watch Eddie’s head tip back on the sofa, breaking the eye contact he’d insisted on. You lean forward, lips pressed to his ear,

“You love me, or you love my pussy?” You bite the lobe of his ear and sit back up, increasing your speed a fraction,

“Oh shit.” Eddie twitches inside you in response to your speeding up, “Obviously you. ‘M all yours, and you’re all mine.” Eddie’s head comes back up, eyes entrapping you once more as he holds your hips, holding you in place while he fucks up into you, one of your hands leaves his hair, tracing his face, resting on his lips until he opens his mouth and flicks his tongue along your fingers, reminding you of how talented that tongue is, your breath catches and Eddie notices,

“Yeah? Thinking about how good my tongue feels on that pretty pussy of yours?” That coil building in your stomach tightens further, “Then why don’t you…” Eddie takes your hand in his and trails it slowly down your body, “Touch. Where you want my tongue.” your fingertips brush your swollen clit and he releases your hand, eyes darkening as you play with yourself,

“There she is, keep going.” Eddie rains praise down on you with every thrust, that, combined with the eye contact intensifies every sensation in your body until finally you snap, crying out in ecstasy,  tightening around Eddie’s cock as he curses loudly at the way your walls grip him, fucking you through your orgasm until his thrusts turn sloppy and you feel his cock pumping his hot release into you. 

You both stay eyes locked, waiting for your breathing to settle, as you come down your highs.

“Well that was worth almost dying for.” Eddie says with a grin as you slide off of his lap, you frown at him as you pull your panties and trousers back on, Eddie following suit,

“Eddie, no joking like that.”

“Sorry, that was in bad taste.” He grabs your hand and pulls you back onto the sofa, noticing the way you wince as your body makes contact with the firm cushion, you get an apologetic smile but you can see a hint of smugness behind it, then he pulls you into his arms, resting his chin on your head. You settle into him, listening to his heartbeat grow less erratic.

“I really do love you,” Eddie kisses the top of your head, “Promise I wasn’t cheaping out saying it during sex.”

“Oh damn. I totally was cheaping out.” Eddie snorts and your head bounces slightly with the movement of his chest,

“Yeah, right. You adore me.” Eddie taps your nose,

“Guilty as charged. I do love you. Very much.” Eddie’s arms squeeze you tight as he plants more kisses on your head, until you tip your head back so he can kiss your lips.

“So, you ready to be Eddie ‘The Dad’ Munson?” You joke, giggling as he wrinkles his nose at the nickname,

“Absolutely not. I’m shitting myself.”

“Eddie, I'm not changing your diapers too.” Eddie’s turn to laugh, feeling more at ease. “I know it's a big, scary thing, and it's so soon but we’re a team, and I know you will be an amazing parent once you get out of your own head.” 

“Fuck. You’re supposed to be the weepy hormonal mess, what are you doing to me?!” Eddie chokes out, giggles turned to choked back sobs, you wrap your arms around him,

“You know this baby is going to love their daddy so much right?” 

“Okay if you’re trying to make me cry just know it's working and I don't like you right now.” Eddie glares up at you from watery eyes, so you hold him tighter and he leans into you. head on your chest, clinging to the fabric of your shirt. 

“Also, you’re going to be a total DILF.” You whisper, joining Eddie in a fit of giggles.

Taglist: @hellomothermoon @tlclick73 @likedovesinthewnd @bebe0701 @steamystrangerfics @zeedramallama @tyelikesbees @wheaty-melon @thegirlwhohides @mxcheese @witchofhawkins @munsonsgirl71 @sammararaven @joejoequinnquinn @hellfire-puppet @micheledawn1975 @averagemisfit03 @edsforehead @thehuntresswolf @a-hopeless-fan @bimbobaggins69 @harrys-tittie @feltonswifesworld87 @munsons-mayhem28 @thatsbunnysmind @heyhihellowhatsup0 @iamaslutforcoffee @boomhauer @quinndjarin @tayhar811 @sister-cirice @sidthedollface2 @plutoluvr

[finniestoncrane]

Could I pls have a #7 off the fluff prompt list for the Batman rogues? I just love the chaotically dumb/troublesome S/o’s that drive their rogues crazy but are still loved by them at the end of the day and put up with their shit. I just love when the rogues are all “you’re an idiot but you’re my idiot.” Pls and thank you, your work is wonderful ☺️

Riddler + whoever else you feel like adding pls #7 “You’re an idiot.” “But you love me.”

You're An Idiot/But You Love Me

Rogue Scenarios/Ficlets kjhkjhasd ok this was cutie and i liked writing it. i know it's not usually my thing to be soft and gentle so i hope this was ok! thank you for submitting it ;-; 💜 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi minors DNI!! 🔞 cw for nsfw stuff: nothin' it's just fluff, but no lil friends come near this shit anyway

riddler

"i thought that was the answer!" he scrutinised you with his narrowed eyes, trying to tell whether you were joking or not, making a fool out of him, mocking him. "are you being sarcastic?" you walk over to him and place a kiss on his cheek. " a little bit, but that was the easiest riddle ever, do you think i'm an idiot?" he grabbed your waist as you turned away from him, spinning you back around and kissing your forehead. "you are an idiot." snuggling your head into his neck you whispered "but you love me anyway."

two face

"god! you're an IDIOT!" you cowered slightly at the yell, trying to maintain eye contact so you could break through to him, past two face. "i'm so sorry, i didn't realise, i made a mistake, but we got out alive!" he spat his words at you, "barely! god you're so stupid." reaching out tentatively you placed your hand on his cheek, desperate to reach harvey. looking into his eyes you risked a kiss. "but you love me?" his hands wrapped around your waist in a soft embrace, kissing the top of your head, voice softer now. "of course."

scarecrow

so maybe you should have known better, given that you were dating jonathan crane. but you were too focused on watching the horror movie he had put on. you just put your hand to the side and picked up the first cup your fingers landed on, taking a sip and putting it back down. it took him a few minutes before he realised why you had suddenly become far more terrified of the cheesy slasher. when he eventually got you calmed down, you noticed how tight his grip on your hand was. he let go when he realised you were smiling at it. "you're an idiot." you grabbed at his hand again. "but you love me!" he neither confirmed nor denied it.

penguin

"haha! see sweetheart, that's why you can't play a player." he began raking in the chips after settling his cards down on the table. "four of a kind, it feels good to win." you smiled, pleased to see him so happy. "don't worry, kid, one of these days you'll win. i'll teach you how to beat everyone, except me. so what hand did you have?" you lay them down, shrugging. "none of them matched, oz. total bust." he stared at them, then back at you, then back at the cards. "you're an idiot." you tilted your head to the side, staring blankly at him. "that's a straight flush, doll, you beat me! you didn't notice?" you smiled, "no i did, i'm just good at bluffing." his mouth was screwed shut tight, and as you leaned over to collect your winnings, you pressed a kiss to them. "but you love me."

zsasz

"let's go then!" you dove around the corner, guns blazing, firing what might have seemed at random to the untrained eye, but victor watched you, trying to cover you, a pointless attempt because every wild shot you took was right on target. but you hadn't accounted for the one officer who had been hiding, who burst out as you realised you were out of ammo. quickly to the rescue, zsasz took aim, rushing up behind you and turning you around. "you're an idiot! that was reckless, and dangerous, and...kinda hot." he kissed you, arms gripping at your waist, "but you're still an idiot." you took his head in your hands and rubbed your nose to his "but you love me." he smiled into you, stepping back to reload his weapons. "of course i do, you're my idiot."

harley

it might have been your fault that she'd been beaten up by batman, but it still hadn't warranted the absolute tirade she'd gone on once you were back at her hideout. "you're a complete idiot, y'know!?" and as your eyes fell to the floor she realised that it was the moment to break the cycle. it horrified her how much she sounded like him, scolding you and berating you. staring back up at her, your eyes met, and you spoke meekly. "but you love me...?" harley fell to her knees, wrapping her arms around you and holding you to her chest. "more than words, dumplin', pinky swears."

[alpines-bucky]

No one said Starks weren't a little dramatic

This is the first time I write Tony x daughter reader I hope you guys like it :)

Word Count: 2319 ( Things got a bit out of my hands while I was editing and eventhough it's edited I can't promise that there aren't any typos and I dtill wasn't satisfied with what I wrote but 🤷‍♀️Ig )

Warnings: Major character death, a lot of angst

Y/N loses her dad when he decides to save the universe with a snap of his fingers but when did anyone see a Stark not getting what they want? Let me answer for you, Never. ( AKA Y/N gambles with time and space and universes surprisingly there isn't any VA involved cause in my opinion they suck to save her dad but apparently there are always consequences)

Y/N had arrived at her destination albeit being a little late. She wanted to be there when the team tried to go back in time to get the Stones in hopes of saving aunt Tasha too but she had one and only shot at this so she had to make do with what she had. What she didn’t realise was she accidentally changed universes instead of going back in time.

The way she found out that the place she had arrived wasn’t when or where she intented to was Morgan, the little girl with big Brown eyes who had total control over her older sister the second they met. Y/N had to lay low and do her research before approaching them. But when she heard about Morgan she had to meet her before doing what she came to do. And that’s exactly what she did.

She found Morgan in a house by the lake with a woman who she assumed was Pepper.Her visit was short since she couldn’t afford getting caught by Pepper which would mean jeopardising the whole plan she had spent months making. She left a message for her dad before going off to save the man itself.

Her dad was fighting with Thanos when she arrived to the scene. The more she looked around the more it looked like the place she fought along with her dad and that meant one thing, she had to act quick.

‘’I am inevitable’’ Thanos said as he snapped his finger but nothing happened. Confused, he looked at his gauntlet to find that the Stones that were there a minute ago were no longer in their places. He looked around to see that Tony had them somehow.

‘’And I’m Iron Man’’ said Tony full of emotions as he was about to snap his fingers. He thought having all six Stones in his hands would kill him being a mortal and he was fine with it if that meant she could ensure his family’s security but he felt nothing. He thought he had died instantly but he found out that wasn’t the case when he got startled by an unknown voice.

‘’Oh, the hell with that!’’ said a girl who wore a similar suit to Tony’s. She seemed to appear out of nowhere. Which confused both man further.

‘’Who the hell are you?’’ asked Tony. Who the hell was mad enough decided to mess up the only chance of him stopping the big purple psycho of a man.

‘’Who do you think?’’ said the girl, winking at him confidentally but her eyes told a different story. There was sadness in them, grief and loss but it seemed like she was happy at the same time.What surprised him was the familiarity she carried but he couldn’t put his finger on it. So he searched her suit for some clues which led up to him finding the Stones. She was the reason he was not dead, she somehow got possession of the Stones.

‘’Kid, no!’’ yelled Tony. He attempted to get closer to her but she snapped her fingers before he could stop her. Everything stilled for a second. The other avengers thought Tony had done it as Thanos’ soldiers had started to turn to dust all of a sudden but when they found a girl that they’ve never seen before in the arms of Tony with fetal injuries they were puzzled. They gathered around Tony and the girl who struggled tos tay alive.

‘’I made it! I… I saved you, Dad.’’Tony was shocked at her words. He was processing what he heard as Pepper landed next to them and kneeled. They couldn’t Wrap their heads around what was happening but they both were not going to let a dying kid down for sure.

She had a difficulty breathing, she was in agonizing pain but she had a peaceful smile on her face. She tried to lift her hand but it pained her more, she whimpered. Tony sensed her intentions and put her hand on his cheek for her. He put his hand on top of her, gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘’Friday, what do we have?’’ asked Tony.

‘’3 to 4 degree burns from her right hand up to her face. Internal bleeding. Her lungs are collapsing... Life functions critical.’’ Answered the voice from both of the suits. Pepper grimaced, she didn’t know who this girl was but she had sacrificed herself for Tony, the man she referred ‘dad’. ‘’Who are you?’’ asked Pepper.

‘’I’m–‘’ she coughed, blood was pooling in her mouth. ‘’I’m surprised you couldn’t figure it out yet…’’ she let out a bloody laugh. ‘’I’m Y/N. Y/N Stark.’’ She said with her last breath. That shook the whole group to their cores. The girl wasn’t lying or confusing Tony with someone else. The girl who lied in his Tony’s arms nonbreathing was infact the daughter of Tony Stark. From the moment they realised the truth everything was a blur to the Stark Family and the avengers.

Y/N was Tony’s first daughter who had died in a cross fire 7 years ago. She was a teenager at the time. She would have been a few years older than Peter if she had lived. It was a wrong place wrong time type of situation, she had died on the scene. Tony had nightmares after that, his insomnia got worse. He had blamed himself although it had nothing to do with him. The guilt ate him alive day by day. He realised why the girl’s eyes were so familiar to him now, she was his Y/N/N. A grown, older version of her, but his Y/N nontheless.

He didn’t think he could recover from her death but losing her, seeing her die in his arms for the second time ruined him. He had no idea what was happening outside of his head, he was in a trance, he had stayed still looking at his hands where Y/N laid. Until his little girl, Morgan came up to him with a disk in hand and said ‘’Daddy! Daddy! A girl called Y/N wanted me to give this to you’’ That got everyone’s attention.

Tony told Friday to scan the disk and display whatever is in it. When he saw Y/N in front of her, he couldn’t stop the tears from falling and when she started speaking as if she could see her Tony lost it. He couldn’t hear her because of his own sobs, he didn’t even realised the rest of the avengers and his wife as they piled in the room when they heard Tony and Y/N’s voice. He had to stop the hologram a few times to gather himself. When he got control of his breathing, he built up his courage and displayed it all over again.

‘’Hey dad. I’m assuming since you are watching this I suceed. I’ve saved you.’’ She had to stop for a second to take a breath in to compose herself. ‘This time’ she said under her breath but Friday caught it.

‘’You are wondering how the hell I am alive. Well… For starters, I didn’t know that I was dead in this world which… makes you realise that I’m not from this world. I’m actually from what you call an alternative universe. Things got out of hand in my universe after… after you… Oh shit! This is too hard. I knew I couldn’t do this shit! I can’t even talk to my own god damn suit picturing it as my hypothetical dad without messing it up’’ that made a few people chuckle and a few others tos mile. The girl really was his father’s child after all.

‘’Okay I’m hoping you either won’t have to watch this or I can cut that part before giving it to Morgan. Anyways, I’m rambling.’’ Tony saw his younger self in Y/N which put a sad smile to his face. This was something he never got to experience before. To see her this grown up. To see a pieces of him in her.

‘’ So things went down hill after you did the whole ‘I’m Iron Man’ thing –which by the way I’m still mad at you about­- You… You died in my hands, dad.’’ She gulped. She had begun crying a while ago but now that she was talking about her dad’s death, she felt like the lump in her throat got bigger and bigger, suffocating her. ‘’ I was all alone for years! You were all I had and then within a second you were gone! I didn’t have anyone else!’’ She tried to calm herself. She wasn’t recording this to make him feel guilty or get answers she was possibly never going to hear. This was a goodbye. A goodbye she knew he deserved just like how she did from him.

‘’That’s why I made the decision to change it but I accidentally changed universes instead of going back in time. But this was my only chance, only shot at making it right. And then I found out that I had died in this universe and you had moved on. Good for you, dad. I’m really proud of you. You did what I couldn’t. It was a relief to know that you were happy and that you had a family now. I thought for a second that maybe the blip didn’t happen. That in this universe, you had a lovely life and I thought for a second maybe I could be in it too. Stay with you but that hope was shortly lived.’’ She gave a sad smile.

‘’And now I’m about to go to the battle field. Before I go, I have to say, I don’t know how if there is any way for me to stop you. I can’t take it all back but I will do anything to not let another girl grow up without her dad. And I ain’t going to let my own sister down. Oh, did you know that I always wanted a sister?’’ she chuckled making Tony’s heart warm. It has been so long since he heard his daughter chuckle the damn way he does. She stopped for a second to think ‘’Well, she has the Stark charm, that’s for sure. I only knew her for a few hours and she had me the second we met. I wish I could be there for her as her older sister. I would give anything to see her grow up but if that has to be for only one of us to see, I’d rather that be you because I’ve been there. I know how hard it is to lose your dad. I could see clearly what she would have to go through and the moment I realised that I knew what I had to do. I would stop you at all costs and since this reacording is being played I could sleep peacefully knowing she has you.’’ She smiled with tears escaping her eyes once again. Tony was full of emotions. His daughter he has been longing for years was right in front of him but way too far away at the same time.

With a sigh she started ‘’ You have people you can hold on to. I never did. Pepper, Morgan, Rhodey, the spider kid... Hold on to them Tony. Hold on to the team. Oh, speaking of the team, tell them I love them and I missed them so badly. I’m sorry. I thought I was going to have more time to talk And maybe if a miracle happens and we all can manage to stay alive I could tell you all about it but I have to go now. Have an old man to save’’ She saluted and looked around right where the broken team of Avengers were with longing in her eyes. She moved closer to the disk to cut the recording but decided against it the last second. Tony hung his head, his heart broke to hear the hope in her voice when he knew what already happened. He thought this was the end of the recording but he looked up when he heard her talking and she had turned to him and looked right at him as if she knew where he was stated. That sent shivers up Tony’s spine.

‘’I know you think I made the wrong decision but I saved you. I refuse to let you down once again. I refuse to see you die in front of me once again. I’m not sorry for what I’m about to do, I knew the consequences when I made this plan months ago. I’m only sorry because although I tried so much to have the future we always talked about with you, I won’t be able to, Tones. But Morgan will be. And I would give up anything for that little girl. And for you.’’ She said as she caressed the necklace Tony gave her when she was a child. She took the chain out of her neck and put it somewhere Tony couldn’t see. And Tony knew this was only a tape but he tried to hold on to his daughter, to stop her from going out there. His breath caught in his throat when his hands went through Y/N’s body. He fell to his knees.

‘’ But hey if it turns out that I, this badass manage to get both of us home in one peace one we can laugh our asses off as we watch me being the drama queen that I am… Well, no one said Starks weren’t a bit dramatic.’’ The heart Tony thought had broken to a million pieces broke further as he heard the tremble in her voice as she tried to put her brave face on. But she couldn’t hide it when one last tear escaped from her slightly swollen eyes as she ended the recording.

Why do I never have good endings? Cause I write in the middle of the night when I feel sad most of the time and it's easier to write sad than it is to write happy.

I hope you liked it. I would love to hear your thoughts on this one. I'd also like to discuss if you'd like the alternative ending that could be a happy one :)

[typoqueeenie]

Let's take a moment to appreciate all those wholesome relationships that this show presented us with. They will be with me for years to come💜✨ [LONG READ]

1) One of the most underrated relationships of the show. The unconditional love that Qing had for her brother, was so wholesome! She would look at him & see the entire world tranform into one person. While for A-Ning, his sister WAS his world and beyond.

2) There are brothers, there are fathers & then there is Xichen to his Wangji. From reading his baby brother like a book to taking away his pains before they crossed his path - he was the family Wangji deserved.

As for LWJ, Xichen was embodiment of God.

3) Again such underrated relationship. People only saw the way NMJ was harsh towards NHS but what they failed to see was how he loved his him beyond words. He protected him like a delicate flower.

And for NHS, NMJ was his home, refuge & utmost safety.

4) Shows seldom portray such a pure, unconditional relationship in a completely platonic relationship. Were they friends? Were they like siblings? Were they acquaintances? I don't know. But whatever they were, they were eachother's familiarity, home.

5) What Ning felt for Yuan was so beautiful. Ning was always taken care of by others but it was only with Yuan, did he feel this fierce protectiveness for. Not only were they the last ones surviving from their family, they had a connection so intangible.

6) These 2 have my heart. There were times when I used to think Wen Ning was an alternate representation of WWX. They shared their traumas, homes, loyalties. Both were terribly misunderstood by the society so they chose to turn to eachother for comfort.

7) Not making excuses for XY or his toxic obsession for Xingchen. However XY is a WWX gone horribly wrong. He's never felt a shred of emotion in his life - & the first time he did? He didn't know what to do with it. And that was portrayed so beautifully!

8) It might've started on a wrong note, but the way their relationship progressed throughout the show was beautiful to watch. The understanding, the maturity and the utter devotion they showed for eachother was so pure. We all knew Yanli was in love the moment she laid eyes on him, but Jin Zixuan only had Yanli's name on his lips even on his last breath.

9) The subtlety in their relationship could've easily missed but it was there and it was glaring for me. The way they jumped in to take the hit for eachother throughout the show was beautiful! They were so different in their own ways but together, they were eachother's best confidants.

10) Again, there might be differences in opinion here but their relationship was an absolute treat for me to watch. I loved their back and forth banter and the humour but beneath all of that there was also this hidden unconditional love of two people who had lost their everything and only had eachother to survive. They were eachother's support and weakness. And probably only reason to be alive.

11) I loved the growth in their relationship over time. From despising WWX to understanding him as a person, starting become fond of him and then finally somehow acknowledging him as his uncle - the growth was beautiful to witness. And WWX's obvious fondness and protectiveness towards him was so warming. Everytime he looked at Jin Ling, it was like WWX got his Shijie back!

12) You can hate Meng Yao all you want to but one thing that you can't deny is the fact that he loved Lan Xichen beyond all his agenda, revenge and very reason of existence. If there was one person whom he had any unconditional feelings towards, it was him. And it broke him completely to see that distrust in LX's eyes. And for Lan Xichen, Meng Yao was that one person who could never do any wrong. What a sad parallel to WangXian indeed!

13) I really really liked their interactions right off the bat. But what I didn't realise was how I would grow so attached to the beautiful relationship they'd eventually develop. I'm again amazed at how they have paid minute attention to even the smallest things in a completely platonic relationship! What wwx felt for Mianmian was responsibility and respect for being the strong woman that she was. But what Mianmian felt for wwx was unwavering gratitude, awe and immense respect. Her taking a stand for him when everyone kept quiet and him still remembering her even with how poor his memory was, says a lot about their mutual respect.

14) Another so so underrated relationship of the show! One of the things that hurt me was how wwx got distanced from such a beautiful friend over time due to the unfortunate circumstances that he was in. Wwx found a brother in NHS whom he could be himself with unabashedly. And in wwx, NHS found a guide, a partner in crime and a person through whom he manifested all his desires and wishes. It was one of the purest relationships and a classic example of "Friends are families that you get to choose for yourself".

15) However short their time together onscreen was, they left an undeniable effect on me. The way they silently kept on giving for the other person without a moment of hesitation, was so beautiful to watch. Xingchen was not only ready to give away his eyes but even his life for him while Song Lan was ready to dedicate his entire life to Xingchen, his memories and the time they've spent together.

16) You don't need me to tell you Yanli & WWX loved e/o. What needs to be acknowledged is how he was her world. In her eyes the little kid on top of the tree could do nothing wrong. When every single person showed their doubt - Yanli was unmoved. And it's like all of wwx's worries would just fade into a mist when Yanli & her soup were around. I believe wwx was fond of the soup not only because of the taste, but he had associated it to his shijie's presence. Losing Yanli was an irreparable loss.

17) I know there are diff in opinions here but JC & WWX are one of my favourite relationships in the show. Yes there were flaws & misunderstandings there but at the end of the day, the fact doesn't change that they were ready to die for eachother. With JC's every longing glance masked by misplaced accusation & every sad smile of understanding & helplessness from WWX, you could see every fight, harsh words & shoves came from a place of intense love. More than brothers they were each other's confidants first.

18) RANT ALERT: There was never, there is none & there will never exist a love so epic in magnitude.

While WWX's fast paced world came to a screeching halt when he met lwj, LWJ's monotonous life gained pace when he got hit by this sudden tornado.

For LZ, he understood the meaning of life when he met wwx. He understood there was much more to it than simply doing what is told. His love was so intense, he didn't even need the other's acknowledgement. He felt it, wwx was safe - that was enough.

For WY, lwj was that rein that didn't suffocate him rather guide him. He showed him how to love & let go. He made him understand actions spoke louder than words. It was lwj staying beside him through the end, that spoke louder than any words ever could.

[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

[lengthofropes]

POVs series

Part 4: Dean

words: 2,2k; rating: teen and up

summary:

Dean’s POV, since Cas is gone, then got back from the Empty.

Intentionally written as scattered thoughts.

Slowly, from grief, to the ending that they both deserve.

————————————-

1. What shapes me? Lines of my bones, enveloped within my skin, so tensed and fragile. The tremble of my hands in the morning, as I try but can’t find you next to me. My old clothes, my new clothes. Corners of my house.  My car’s seat upholstery. Soft recoil of my revolver. Food on my plate. Blood in my arteries. My “yes”s and my “no”s and cracks in my voice, as I say so.   - I’d drive. - Far away. From here, but where to? I’d watch the sun goes up and down, up and down, throwing it’s rays into side mirror. Lightening the road or leaving it in darkness, disturbed only by the headlights. I’d listen to the sound that air makes, sliced in half by the windshield. I’d listen to the purring of the engine under the hood, gratefully fed with gasoline. Too bad, it’s not clamorous enough. I’d pay dearly. With money, with time, that’s left. With anything. For something so loud, that could muffle my inaudible screams into nowhere. - I’d drive. But where to? - I don’t know where to. -

keep reading under the cut  -  or  -   read on AO3

2. I can’t drive alone. I keep seeing your gaze on my right. I see it, when I look into the rear view mirror too. Like you’re still here, around, waiting to say something. Or just sitting silently, pervading the air with the appeasement of your presence. Looking at me.   How long will it take me to forget how your eyes looked like? How long will it take me to forget what you saw in me? How can I? Now, that I believe in everything you’ve said. - How warm your touch was. - How good does it feel to be “finally free”, remind me? I don’t like the price. -

3. I’d like some certainty, you know? To come to terms. But I keep thinking “If only..” I keep asking “What if..?”  So many of those. Like there are other paths, and it all could’ve work out differently. They throw me back days ago, then months ago, then years. All my life, since the day I’ve met you. I keep searching for the answer, for the exact point, the moment, when I could’ve say something, do something. And you’d still be here.

“If”s are draining me. They are the lump in my throat, big and barbed. Sometimes it grows so big, it blocks the air from getting into my lungs. And in times like these I wonder, maybe I should just stop breathing at all? Still easier, than to accept your absence. - What if. What if. What if. - And you’d still be here. Here. -

4. Prayers never got me any good. Except of those, that were for you. But you can’t hear me now. You can’t hear at all. I know, it’s no use, I know it’s not possible, I know… I know. But I keep doing this, I keep begging. Not for a solace, not because of compassion. For fairness. Because. You took yourself away from me. It’s not fair, it’s so not fair. How could you do this to me? It’s not fair, can you hear me? It’s not fair! It’s not… - Come back to me. - Bring him back to me. - I don’t know if it is a prayer, I just repeat it over and over. Maybe I’m hoping these words will lose their meaning, if I’ll bounce them against every wall? Every wall of every empty room. I wander around them at night. You stood here, you smiled there, we had an argument, sitting in these chairs. And here, here you touched my shoulder. - Come back to me. Please, come back to me. -

5. How come, it’s been months already? I counted the seconds; they aimlessly wandered around, and then, having nothing else to do, gathered into minutes. It took more courage for minutes to gather in hours, but they did anyway. Hours slowly built up the days, and every seven days made it into a week. - I know, how time works. I’m just not sure, it works for me. - It’s not a straight line, I think. It’s more like a quagmire, and I’m drowning. I looked at myself in the mirror again this morning, as I do every day. I look closely, I check, I perceive. Hey, you’d be proud of me, you know? Little by little, I merge my usual “I” with your vision of me. Because this is the best way to remember you - to live by your last words. - I’d like to tell you, how YOU changed me. [ X ] -

6. Light is blinding me. Heart grew so big, it filled all of my chest, not sure, if there’s a place left to breathe in. Please, let it be real. Please. Please… Not another happy dream, that turns into nightmare, when I’m waking up. Please. - I see you. - Same room, same spot. You. Alive. Your hands are cold. You’re so weak, you can’t stand by yourself, you can’t even speak. But before you passed out, you looked at me. You looked at me, and I saw my own eyes reflect in yours. And that was enough to believe this is real. - I don’t remember… I… - Someone’s shaking my shoulder and saying my name over and over again. I’m sitting on the floor, holding you in my arms. My fingers hurt. I must’ve clutched them into your trench coat too tight. I have no idea how long I’ve been sitting like this. But yes… yes… Sam’s hand is on my shoulder and he’s right, his voice is very quiet, but he’s right. We should get you out of here. We should put you in bed. - I nod. I’m not sure I can speak. -

7. It’s so quiet. - You lay. You rest. You sleep. I’ll watch over you. It’s my turn now. The room is still. Only movement is your chest’s slow ups and downs, as you breathe. It’s just air, nothing more, right? How can the sound of air, filling the lungs, be the most soothing sound in the world? But it is. - It’s our air. We share it. - And I’m crying. I’m crying and I’m crying and I can’t stop. -

8. Sam came back from the store, I stand in the kitchen, taking out groceries and stuff out of the shopping bags. Among everything, I see he bought a super glue, I have no idea, what he needs this for. This is so stupid, this is so fucking stupid, it’s pathetic… but I can’t keep my eyes of it. “Use super glue to strongly bind 2 surfaces together”. I want to come into your room, I want to sit beside you, while you’re still sleeping. I want to smear that goddamn glue all over you, from head to toe, and put myself on top of you, as like I’m the other surface. “Assemble parts and hold together with pressure for 15 seconds or until set”, the directions say.   Or, there’s gotta be sewing kit here somewhere? I want to thread a needle and sew you to me. With such large and strong stitches, I darned Sam’s pants like that when I was a kid, I know these stitches are reliable, believe me. Or use a duck tape. Or shove us both into the bottle and threw it away into the ocean. - It’s been two days and nine hours, since you’re back. Someday, I’ll be able to leave your room, leave you out of my sight, and don’t feel growing panic in my chest. - Someday, I’ll believe you’re back for good. For good. For ever. Not today. -

9. Your bare legs are sticking out of your robe. You are strong enough to walk around the bunker, and, of course, the first thing you did is get to the kitchen. Oh, you woke up hungry and just wanted to make yourself a sandwich, I see… You are not cold, but you are sitting on a chair, constantly adjusting this stupid robe, wrapping yourself in it tighter. You weirdo. You know who you remind me of? A cold little sparrow on a twig, who keeps on ruffling the feathers to keep warm. Those legs are sticking out… - I place a huge bowl of hot chicken soup in front of you. “Eat!” I say. “Or I’m gonna start feeding you with a spoon, I swear!” You mutter something dissatisfied about peanut butter and jelly under your nose, but I won’t even listen. "Eat!” I say. Seriously, you didn’t want to wake me up?? So nice of you! Next time consider my near heart attack, maybe? You look sorry and giving me those puppy eyes, and I swear I want to smile so bad. Not just smile, really. To laugh with my full chest, easy and warm. - You breathe. You sleep. Now you eat. Should I ask questions? You’re here. You’re okay. You’re getting better. - You’re getting better. -

10. Your hair smell of my shampoo. Your hair. Smell of my shampoo. Your clothes are my old ones, but they fit you so good. Soon, when you’re well enough, we’re gonna drive some place nice and buy you your own. It’s selfish, probably, but I want it to happen as late, as possible; not your recovery, of course, your new clothes, I mean. - You look mine in my clothes. - Your hair smell of my shampoo. I’ve realised it just now, when you fell asleep on my shoulder. I forgive you, we’ve seen this movie two times already, it’s okay. And I can pretend I’m still watching it, while shamelessly wander my eyes over you, curled in a ball, covered with soft plaid. - I dare to kiss the top of your head, I dare to cover your knuckles with my palm, carefully, not to wake you up. - You are so warm. -

11. Do I deserve you? - Do I? Your presence in my life. You. All of you. So pure, so perfect. So selfless. I’d say you are full of light, but it’s not quite so. Because you are the light. God, I’m so scared. It starts in my fingertips, they ache, like being pinned with needles. Needles get into my blood flow and make my whole body shiver. - It took me way too long to understand, but I see now… it’s not about you, it’s about me. I know, I know! I remember everything you’ve said. I remember how I tried to believe it, to understand, to accept, to let it all inside me and keep it there. Your simple truth, that I actually mean something. Mean so much. To you. Fucking everyday morning exercises. Look and repeat, look and repeat to self all over again, “you are loved, you are loved, you are loved…” until not scared of the meaning. But… is this enough? What you feel about me? What I feel about you? To deserve you? Do I deserve you, do I? Do I? I… - But you’re kissing me back. - And you shiver too. Are those my needles got into your veins or are those yours? Jesus, do you have the same idiotic thoughts in your head?? God, we are both so clumsy, so stupid, so fucking stupid! We were so dumb, we are both so dumb! We are… We… - WE. - And I’m kissing you. I’m kissing you. I deserve it. I deserve you. I do. -

12. To feel the pulse on your neck with my lips. To smile, when your stubble tickles my ribs. To hear your shuddered inhales right next to my temple. To hold you, closer than ever, and not be afraid to. - It’s something about the heat of your skin, that makes me feel belonged. Safe. -

13. - You told me, you want to grow old with me. -

14. It’s quite hot, but windy today. You rolled the window down, and fresh air immediately filled up the car. We’re driving back home from the grocery store. You’re texting to someone and smiling. Tell them “Hi” from me. We’re listening to the new mixtape you’ve made. It’s awful, by the way. 90’s? Seriously?? Oh, don’t hurt yourself rolling your eyes back. Ok…Okay! I’m shutting up! You’re taking two milkshakes out of the bag, one for you, one for me. We argue on who’s gonna cook today. We drive past the small tidy houses with green yards and gardens, talking over each one of those. Someday, soon, yeah, most likely. That one with blue shutters? Yeah, I like it too. - In between of shifting the gears, I hold your hand. I love you. - Days are like this. -

15. Hello, my name is Dean Winchester. White male, early forties’. I don’t try to recognize myself in a mirror anymore. I don’t ask questions. - I’m just here. - Yeah, there’s grey in my hair, quite a bit, but still. These are my arms, my shoulders, hands. I used to know my hands as lethal, strong and fast, and I’ve always thought, that’s enough for male hands. I mean… they are, yes. But now I’d add, they are full of care, also. Even gentle. They are good for so many things, I didn’t even realize they are so good. [ X ] - This is my face. Here are my freckles and there are my wrinkles. - This is my skin; I live in it.

- It finally fits me. -

__________________________________

tag list:

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[heyitsmerose]

Taken - Seonghwa (Mafia! AU)

Word count: 2k

Genre : Fluff, Angst,

AU: Mafia!

Warnings : Mafia!, Mature Language, mild harassment

You were engaged to one of the most deadliest people alive. Park Seonghwa, the infamous mafia leader who had captured your heart the moment you laid eyes on him. In actuality, you fell for his personality. It was such a unique blend of both protective and caring but also affirmative and cold based on who he was interacting with. You had come to one of your usual poker bars with Seonghwa as he had a deal he needed to confirm. You were about 7 months pregnant and it was definitely safer to have you by his side. You definitely knew how to defend yourself, but having just 2 months left of your pregnancy, it was not a risk either of you were willing to take.

Oftentimes when you came to poker bars like this, you’d spot a few of the other ladies you had befriended. Whether it be the bartenders, a few members of Seonghwa’s gang or even the significant others of mafia bosses, Seonghwa had partnered up with. Seonghwa insisted for you not to be involved in the gang at all as he just wanted you to be safe. Thus, here you were sitting with a few of your best friends as they got wasted. They were all members of Seonghwa’s gang and you had gotten quite close over time. You couldn’t drink, so you just watched them with a small smile on your face, occasionally laughing at their crazy antics.

Eventually, as they grew drunker, they all ditched you for the dance floor. You sighed feeling quite bored and decided to get on your phone. A few minutes later you felt a big hand grasp the underside of your belly, caressing it. Thinking it was Seonghwa, you looked up with a smile on your face, only to be greeted by an unknown man staring right back at you. Your smile instantly fell, and you shook his hand off your stomach, stumbling off your chair, trying to get away from him.

“Excuse me?” You sternly asked, raising your chin trying to put on a brave face. He just leaned closer and you could smell the alcohol from a mile away.

“What do you want, creep?” Your voice wavered as you looked around only to notice the area was almost empty, so you couldn’t call for help.

“Can I be honest? I noticed you from across the bar and you seemed a little lonely, do you need some company?” he asked, smirking. Had this been anyone else, you might have agreed, but considering the way he touched you without asking, and was giving you bedroom eyes, you knew that he had different intentions.

“Can’t you see? I’m taken” You sternly yelled, displaying the big rock on your ring finger.

“I’m also 7 months pregnant if you haven’t noticed and am growing a family I’m more than happy with” You concluded pointing back down at your belly.

“True, but you look really good, knocked up, not to mention, you're glowing” He said coming closer tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. You stumbled back, only to be blocked by a booth, unable to move away.

“Sure, my HUSBAND reminds me of that everyday, now if you could please move, I have places I need to be” you emphasised the word husband while trying to sound confident. Sweat started collecting at the back of your neck thinking about how defenceless you were. He grabbed your wrist tightly and you yelped at the roughness.

“It doesn’t look like anyone is here at the moment, and I’m guessing your husband wont be back for a bit, we have some time” He confidently claimed, one hand now resting beside your head on the booth wall behind you. You let out a shaky sigh, chest tightening.

“Plus, I heard pregnant women feel fuller and tighter” He deeply chuckled leaning in closer. Your eyes widened at the sleazy comment, chills running down your spine. You put your hands on his upper body now trying to physically push him away as he didn’t seem to get the message. He was still bigger than you and we simply weren’t strong enough.

You squeezed your eyes shut in fear trying your best not to let it show and get him away from you when you suddenly felt the pressure disappear. You opened your eyes and found Seonghwa ripping away the guy from you, slamming him into the ground. You sighed in relief as you saw Seonghwa’s men tackle the creep to the ground, pressing his face against the concrete. You felt a knot in your throat as you gripped your head, hands running through your hair as your tried to calm yourself down. You let out a shaky sigh and closed your eyes trying to stop the stinging in your eyes.

You soon felt two arms wrapping around your stomach from the back as you violently flinched, only to then relax again after recognising the familiar musky sent of your husband Seonghwa.

“Shhh, baby it’s me, it’s just me, you’re alright, I got you” He whispered, kissing the back of your head as you sunk deeper into his embrace. You finally calmed down, resting your head back, limply against his chest.

“I love you, I won’t let anything bad happen to you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you” He whispered into your hair, firmly securing his hands around you as you wrapped your hands on top of his. You were snuggled deeper into his embrace not wanting to let go, and he realised how scared you were. He felt your quivering body and heard your shaky sighs so he realised it would be best to take you home. He guided you away from the mess, leaving the bar as soon as possible, but not before roughly kicking the dude who harassed you, in the stomach.

He dragged you into the car and began driving, wanting to get home as soon as possible. He interlaced one of his hands with yours to offer some sort of comfort as you just stared out the window. Seonghwa realised how quiet you were and tried to talk to you but you were just distracted by your own thoughts, for obvious reasons.

As soon as you got home he prepared a bath for the both of you to get your mind off it. He prepared a soothing lavender bubble bath and discarded his clothing as well as yours, gently caressing your body while doing do. He slipped into the bath and ushered you to do so too. He sat with his back against the tub and you sat in beween in legs, your back against his chest as you leaned back into him. He rubbed your upper arms and shoulders slowly observing how you were reacting. You closed your eyes and leaned into him further to he applied more pressure on your shoulders. As time went by he cautiously spoke up, finally addressing the situation.

“Y/n… I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me” He said quietly while you sighed.

“It’s fine Hwa, I’m a little shaken up but it’s alright, I was pregnant and not as strong, of course someone was going to corner me” You said letting a little vulnerability slip in.

“No y/n, this isn’t alright, please talk to me about how you're feeling, don't bottle it up.” He said kissing your shoulders, his bangs hitting the top of your neck sending shivers down your spine.

“Seonghwa leave it, I can’t do anything about it now can I? I can’t even fucking defend myself” You said, your voice cracking in the middle. He just sighed, running his hands along your sides.

“Y/n, please don’t cry, you can defend yourself, in fact, you’re one of the strongest women I know, you just need to be careful, especially now. You’re carrying our baby in there.” He said kissing your neck, you just nodded and rested the side of your face against his bare chest, while he ran both his arms up and down yours.

“I love you” You whispered out feeling quite overwhelmed and tired and he heard the slight rasp in your voice, indicating you were sleepy.

“I love you more” he whispered into your ear softly, kissing your cheek. You simply snuggled into his embrace and fell asleep, not caring that you were currently in the bath. He sighed and rubbed your shoulders letting you sleep for a bit before wrapping you up in a warm towel and snuggling you tight for the rest of the night.

requested by @racheloveyunho

[acourtofsnakes]

Mesh’la - Rogue, Chapter 18| The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader (f)

(I know the gif is Javi, but there aren’t exactly many Mando gifs that would fit this chapter.. I’ve also had this for a while so let me know if its yours and i’ll tag you♥︎)

Summary: After Din’s revelation, walls that have been crumbling for a while, finally break. 

Warnings: 18+ Swearing, smut, cunnilingus/fingering(f receiving),unprotected sex,  p in v sex, flufffffffff finally. Let me know if I forgot anything!

AN: I have nothing to say but… enjoy. 

Word count: 7.6k +

Rogue Taglist:  @snipskixandbeskar​   @weirdowithnobeardo​ @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @jackgrzs @sarahjkl82-blog @boomtownboy @goldielocks2004 @seninjakitey @what-iwish-you-knew @queenofthefaceless @rosiefridayrogersunday @greeneyedblondie44 @itsnottilly @welcometothepedroverse @xgoldenjenny @heyitsjaybird @mamacitapascal​

Rogue Masterlist | Introduction| 1: Solus| 2: Arir | 3: Tor | 4: Gaa'tayl | 5: Kyr’am | 6: Cabur | 7: Ret'urcye Mhi | 8: Haran| 9: E’tad | 10: Tome | 11: Aliit ori'shya tal'din| 12: Mar’eyce | 13: Kov’nyn| 14: Ne’tra| 15: Or’dinii| 16: Dar| 17: Haalur| 18: Mesh’la

Mando’a Translation: Mesh'la - beautiful

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

Those three little words echoed around your mind, bouncing around the walls of your conscious and then travelling down to your heart where they curled up there, settled into the space that had been carved out for Din, long before you met him. 

“You…” Your voice broke a little, so you cleared your throat and tried again, talking over the splash of the water that was no doubt going to turn cold any moment. “You love me…?”

Din was breathing heavily, the wet fabric of his clothes pulling over his chest and he nodded. “Yes. I love you.” His voice was still soft, but imploring you to understand him, to listen and stop saying such things about yourself. “I… I’ve loved you for a long time, sweetheart.” 

Well.

His words rendered you… sort of speechless for a moment. 

He loved you. 

Din had loved you for “a long time”. 

Just as you had loved him. 

You blinked up at him, water rolling down your hair, making beads over your skin as steam floated about the small space. It probably wasn’t doing his helmet any good, but there was no way either of you could leave this moment. “I… I had no idea...” 

Din laughed, it wasn’t cruel, it was more a sort of exhausted laugh, yet there was a level of love in it, “I know… You’re the most intelligent person I know, and you could talk your way out of anything... but when it comes to noticing what’s right in front of you…” His voice was a little teasing, “You are a little blind, princess.”

Despite the revelations and the shock – and elation - screaming through you, you did have to pout. “You can’t blame me… How was I supposed to know?”

Din leant against the wall, “Well, I know this…” He tapped his helmet, “Makes things a little difficult but…” He huffed a little, “I didn’t really know it myself at first. It wasn’t until people started to mention it… I realised that everything I’d been feeling...” Din seemed to stumble a little over his words again. “For weeks… I… I’ve just... needed to be close to you. After I sent you to Nevarro, I met Haran for the first time on Tatooine. He told me he knew who you were, that he was coming after you and I only had a week. I was… I felt something I haven’t felt in a long, long time. True fear. And when I got into that cantina… and I saw him sitting there with you…” Din shook his head, looking down. “I wanted to kill him. And then you started shouting at me…” He laughed a little, “You always have such a fire in you when you’re pissed at me… It’s like flying into the sun.” 

You couldn’t help the soft laugh of your own, “I’d say I’m sorry but…” 

He lifted his head, tilting it and you could feel his eyes on you through the visor, “Then I’d know that fall had done more damage than it already has.” The laughter visibly drained from his body, his voice, “I thought I’d lost you… You were…” He seemed to almost choke on the words, “You were dead. In my arms. Your heart wasn’t beating… You were just… gone.” His voice broke and he sucked in a breath. “My whole world stopped.” 

The feeling of darkness, of those icy bands wrapping around you and filling your lungs washed over you, and you shuddered. You wouldn’t be forgetting the feeling of having the air crushed from your lungs for a long, long while. 

You could only imagine what it was like for Din, having to pull you out. Having to coax your broken body into living again…

“I tried and tried, but… it just wouldn’t work. You were dead.” His voice was stricken, haunted and you had a feeling you might be waking up to Din’s nightmares soon too. 

He sucked in a hitched gasp of his own, touching his helmet like he would run his fingers through his hair – his hands were shaking, almost violently and he curled them into a fist.

“All I could think was... how am I supposed to go on? I let you down, in the worst way possible. I let you slip away, I let him take you and hurt you and then you died... without... without seeing my face, without knowing what keeps me up at night, the things I so desperately want to say to you. That threaten to come out every time I see and... and I have to change the subject or leave because I look at you and I just...” He lifted his head again, watching you, his chest heaving, “Lose my mind. Lose everything I know. It all just fills with you. And then I don’t know which way is up or where to go that isn’t by your side. I want to be there, all the time. I want to hear the way you think, I want you to shout at me when I annoy you. I want to watch you play with the kids and get them to do things when they don’t listen to me. I want to see the world through your eyes, see the beauty in every single thing.” 

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but let these words, this outpouring wash over you and listen to the way he’d been feeling for… months. 

“And to know that you would have died without knowing that, without me being able to tell you just how much you mean to me, how much I need you in my life and I want to protect you. How you make me a better man and-” He made a little noise, like he was winded. 

“Din.” You limped across to him, cupping the jaw of the helmet, “Din, breathe.” There were tears rolling down your cheeks, your mind reeling at his sweet, meaningful words, but he was going to send himself into some kind of attack in a minute. You slid your hands down to rest on top of his shoulders, feeling the broad strength beneath the fabric. 

At your touch, even with the layers, he groaned like he was in pain. “Whenever you touch me… I feel like I’m burning. Like… electricity is searing through me. It makes me feel alive. I… Mandalorian’s don’t really… we don’t really experience touch.” He motioned loosely to his armour, being careful not to bump you – or move you away. “We don’t get to feel the breeze on our hair… or the sun on our skin. We don’t feel a casual touch or a hug or… anything.” He sounded a little hesitant, speaking such words that he would never, ever have previously said aloud before. His tone was a little jagged and stilted, like he was torn between keeping the anonymity of the Mandalorian’s and telling you everything.

“But… When I feel your touch, your skin… It’s like... I’m feeling everything all at once.” He lifted his hand, brushing wet, gloved fingers down your cheek, but the touch still ignited you, “That night I felt your hair... and when you had your nightmare… I thought I was going to die. From how you felt around me, the way you were so… ready… ” Another ragged hitch of breath. 

You turned your head into his touch, goosebumps rising over your skin, “So, touch me again.” 

Din’s fingers stilled, and you almost heard his heart thud, “I… what?” 

You lifted your hand, brushing your fingertips over the edge of his gloves, “Touch me.” You looked up at him, heat coiling in your belly, your very soul, “Din, touch me. Please.” Desire and pleading coloured your voice, your expression. A wildness came over you, and you shed yourself of your torn top, leaving just the thin bandeau around your chest. 

Din’s hands curled into fists as you took off your top and he looked at you, your lips parted, your cheeks flushed, desire burning through your eyes and darkening them. 

“Close your eyes.” His voice was husky and rough, equally desperate for you. 

Without a hesitation, you obeyed, squeezing shut your eyes, barely able to restrain yourself. 

You heard the sound of leather on skin, two wet plops on the floor and you expected Din’s touch on your skin but… instead, you heard him pick up your top. 

A soft ripping noise was heard over the water, and then you felt the sodden fabric against your closed eyes. He was tying it behind your head, like a blindfold. “Din, what are you…” 

“Shhh, cyar'ika.” There were some sounds you couldn’t identify and then… 

Then the sound of air hissing – a little bubbly -, and then something hard and metallic being set down on the floor, then the wet plop of his top. 

Your heart stopped. Everything stopped. 

Something hard. 

And metallic.  

Oh, Maker and all the stars above. 

“Din…” You whispered his name this time, your heart suddenly pounding a frantic beat in your chest, your neck, your wrists. Heat flooded across your body, your skin tightening in anticipation and it was a little harder to breathe. 

He’d taken off his helmet.

You heard footsteps, and then Din’s hands cupped your cheeks, big, a little rough and always so warm. “Princess…” He whispered it back, and you had the sense of him coming closer. 

The first brush of his lips consumed you. 

They were a little chilly, but plush and unimaginably soft. And there was a scratchiness on your lips…

Oh, by the Maker, he had a moustache… That did things to you. Things that resulted in heat and warmth between your legs. 

Din moved those lips over your own, like butterfly wings, checking you were okay with this. 

Like he wasn’t the one who had just removed his helmet for the first time, properly around you. Like you weren’t standing there with just a piece of torn cloth shielding your eyes. You could easily reach up and swipe it away and see his true face. 

But you would never do such a thing. 

Never even think of it. 

And he knew that, which is why he trusted you so much. 

It made your heart ache, in the best way. 

But this soft kissing… it wasn’t enough. 

You angled your head more into his, his rough hands still cupping your jaw and you kissed him with a little more pressure. Your hands reached up, fingertips brushing his bare shoulders and then you dropped them to his waist instead, and you grasped his hips, letting him know he could let go, that you needed him to let go as well. 

Din made a little noise against your lips, and by the way he went still, you just knew it was with restraint. You could feel that tidal wave inside him, cresting and so close to crashing back down. 

You wanted it. No… you needed to consume you both. 

Needed him to consume you. 

You pulled back mere millimetres, just enough to whisper, “Din… Let go…” You brushed your hands along the sodden fabric of his trousers, your thumbs brushing the bare skin of his hips.  

That simple touch, that whisper of a caress on such previously untouched skin melted any restraint within him. 

With a noise like a moan and growl all in one, he pulled you closer. His mouth came down on yours, kissing you with a sudden fierce intensity that seared through you. 

It broke your own walls, and you curled your fingers into his belt, rising up on tiptoe and matching his frantic pace. 

Within seconds, his tongue lightly traced your lips, and when you parted for him, he moaned low in the back of his throat, that proper taste of you nearly bringing him to his knees. 

The press of his hot tongue against your own was a blessing, a curse, and a damnation all in one. 

He tasted like… like cool water on a hot day, like fresh tea in the morning, like the best chocolate cake, all rolled into one and topped with his distinct, smokiness that clung to him. 

Din’s arms snaked around your waist, sliding up your back, holding you into his body but it wasn’t close enough, not enough for how long this had been building between the two of you. 

That intense heat never failed to take over, whether you were teasing each other, arguing, or doing delicious things like this. 

It had been there from that very first moment on Sorgan. 

You took the initiative, summoning the strength that had been building again and you pressed against him, pinning him to the wall just behind so you could lean your full body weight into him, so you could feel every inch of his body against yours. 

It was heavenly, the feel of his bare skin, so new to you, against your own and the contact made your eyes roll back into your head a little bit. 

He was solid, warm, and so familiar beneath your body, that every cell just cried out for more, no matter how close you were. 

Din made a choked noise of his own, his entire body shaking with all the contact, a sensation he had never felt for years. It was like stepping into the sunlight for the first time, like sinking into hot water, or being electrocuted. 

You felt him shaking against you, felt the ragged drag of his breath and you pulled back from his lips, “Din, if this is too much-“ 

He shook his head, chasing your kiss, his voice almost tortured, “No, don’t. Don’t stop, please. I… Just don’t stop.” He gasped a little, bringing his mouth back to yours. 

You needed him, needed him in body, soul and mind and wanted to burn with him forever. 

A torn sound of need escaped against his lips as you fought his tongue for dominance, tracing your tongue over his teeth. 

Din groaned, his hands leaving their roaming over your back, just long enough to slide down over your ass and the backs of your thighs. He grasped them, bending his own knees and he picked you up, winding your legs around his waist. 

He brushed against your core, and your moans of unison echoed over the pounding of the water. He rocked his hips against yours, the friction pressing against your burning heat, the rub of every hard in of him. He needed you, as much as you needed him and you were prepared to ask him, beg him to take you right here in the ‘fresher, against the wall…

Except, it chose that moment to go absolutely, completely, ice cold. 

You squealed, pulling away from Din and ducking your head into his shoulder, trying to hide from the icy spray that was now hitting mostly the back of your head and neck. “Fuck me, that’s cold!” 

From somewhere above you, Din burst into a chuckle, “Hang on, princess.’ His voice was low and husky, and only heated you even further, the icy water having no effect in diminishing the fire. 

He turned off the taps, and the sudden silence was almost as loud as the water had been. 

He gingerly stepped from the wet floor, holding you against his body still and he fumbled with one hand before a towel was swathed around your body. “Let’s get you warmed up.” 

I can think of way you can warm me up.

There was a soft snort, and you knew your face had given away that thought, even with the blindfold. You rested your head back against Din’s neck, allowing him to carry you back to your room, just relishing in the feeling of being held by him – in more ways than one.

He made his way expertly through the ship, his feet making wet squelches on the floor that had you giggling. 

By the time the doors to your room opened, you were both laughing, cheeks flushed and hearts stumbling over each other. 

Din set you down carefully, his hands on your upper arms and the laughter faded away into something much more intense and serious. 

You could feel his eyes on you, dragging over your skin like he was taking in every single inch. His breathing was ragged, his touch searing through your skin and warming your very bones. It occurred to you that you knew this man, inside and out. You could tell the change in his mood from his breathing, the tenseness of his body or what his head tilts meant. 

You hadn’t seen his face, or any of his skin and yet… you felt like you knew him deeper than that, deeper than just what was on the surface. You could locate him in a dark room, from the sound of his breathing alone. 

And he knew you too. 

He always had. 

His warm, broad hands brushed up your arms, over your shoulders, tracing a path. “Are you okay?” The rough cadence of his voice told you that he was holding back, everything in him that was still threatening to come out. But he was making sure you wanted this, wanted to cross the wall that had been crumbling ever since that night you broke down. 

One word from you, and he would haul that wall back up and it would be fine. 

Your lips parted at his touch and his voice, desire and a need for him coiling in your belly. You wanted to be close to him, to feel his skin on yours, his touch, map his body blindly and just… Rise to the stars and never fall back down, wrapped in him and everything he had bought to your life. “Yes… I want this… Din, I want you-”

No sooner had you finished talking, Din made a noise low in his throat and then he was on you, his hands sliding up your neck to your jaw, framing it in his hands like you were something precious and rare, and then his warmed lips came down upon yours. They were soft at first, dancing against your own with an almost shyness. And then it changed, his tongue brushing over your lips and then slipping inside your lips when you granted him permission. 

His tongue danced with your own, and just the brush of his facial hair and the taste of him could have brought you to your knees. You moaned low, arching your body into him so you were pressed against his tall, broad frame, the bare skin of his belly and the tickle of his happy trail only making you wetter. 

As you battled for dominance in the kiss, Din walked you backwards, pulling from your mouth with a tug to your lip and then he was planting kisses along your jaw, trailing them to your ear where he sucked your earlobe gently, earning a breathy moan in return. 

He pushed you gently toward the bed, but not before pressing soft kisses down your neck – and then tracing back up the line of your throat with his tongue. 

You felt that stroke of his tongue everywhere, the wet heat of it searing a line straight down your spine and you cried out a little, hand flying up to the back of his head to grip his hair by instinct. 

And you froze. 

You hadn’t asked for permission to touch him – if it was even okay, if he wanted you to. “Din, I – I’m sorry.” Your voice was choked with need, your fingers loosening. 

“No!” Din shook his head rapidly, “No, keep it there – I... Touch me. Please.” His voice was hoarse again, his words hot and desperate against your throat. 

His repetition of his words from the ‘fresher assured you it was okay, and you wound your fingers back into his hair, curling the locks around your fingers as he mouthed over your skin, dragging his teeth, “Din, I need you...” 

The edge of the thin cot hit the backs of your thighs, and he pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek, “I know, sweetheart...” He kissed underneath your chin, then the hollow of your throat, “I’ve needed you, for so, so long...” His lips trailed lower, ghosting over your collarbones where he paused for a second, tracing a hot, wet line along them with his tongue again, “I think since the moment you tried to kill me on Sorgan.” The trail of lips moved over your chest, then your left breast, on the fabric of your bandeau, “When you teased me every moment after…” His words resounded with your soft, breathy moan, and he moved to the right, “And on Nevarro…”

He groaned a little, slowly sinking lower and his hands came up to your sides, as he bit gently on the skin of your belly, “Those words that came out of your mouth on Nevarro… You were killing me, you were seeing right into my head and telling me my dreams, like you knew them.” His tongue darted out, tracing a circle around your belly button and a shudder ran through you. 

You dropped your hands to his shoulders, needing more grip and balance. And there was more than enough. You knew his shoulders were broad, but fuck, actually holding them was a completely different story. 

Stars, you were going to fall apart and all he was doing was kissing you. 

“You have no idea how much I wanted to do those things, how long I’ve wanted to… but… Most of all, I wanted this. To be able to take my time, and explore,” He kissed underneath your belly button, his facial hair scratching gently on the sensitive skin, “Every…” his hands slid down to grasp the belt loops of your trousers, and the waistband of your underwear, “Single…” He slid them both down over your hips, exposing your bare skin to him, “Inch,” He dropped down to his knees as your trousers reached your ankles, and he helped you out of them, “Of your body first.” He sat back on his knees, his voice sounding hoarse and choked again. “Look at you…”

Through the thin fabric of the blindfold, you could just make out the silhouette of him on his knees in front of you, a faint outline of his broad shoulder, a fuzzy outline of curly hair. 

Your knees were trembling in anticipation, in fact your whole body was trembling as he just… admired you.

On his knees, worshiping you for the warrior goddess he believed you were. 

His fingertips danced up your calves, your knees, grasping the backs of your thighs and then you felt his nose against your skin, his hair tickle your lower belly and then, finally, the press of his lips on your wet heat, but too soft, too gentle. 

A ragged gasp emerged from your throat, and you lifted your hand back to his hair, pushing him closer, “Din.” You didn’t care how pleading your voice was, but you needed more than soft kisses. 

A low chuckle rumbled against your sensitive bundle of nerves, and he nudged his nose to them once more before his hands tightened on your thighs. 

The first brush of his tongue elicited a cry of relief from your lips, echoing with Din’s appreciative half growl at your taste, at how wet you were for him. He went in after that, dragging his tongue through your folds in broad strokes, like he already couldn’t get enough of you. “Shit, you taste...” he groaned again, burying his face further between your thighs, his tongue probing your entrance before sliding back up between your folds again. 

You already couldn’t breathe, the moan getting caught in your chest and resulting in a soft, high whine and you leant into his touch, arching your spine. Letting your head drop back, you could do nothing but feel the hot stroke of his tongue, licking every inch of you. 

He tilted his head back just slightly for a better angle, circling your clit with the tip of his tongue and your legs shook again, aching as they held you up and trembling.  

“Din, wait-” You reluctantly tugged his head back, then half collapsed back onto the bed, and Din followed you like a magnet. He remained on his knees at the edge of the bed, and hooked one of your legs over those sinful shoulders, allowing him a better angle, a deeper angle to devour you like he was starving. 

He pressed his tongue flat against you, before sucking on your clit with an intensity that made the room spin. It was like he was pulling electricity through your veins, making every nerve stand to attention, wait for his command. 

You dropped your back onto the bed, both hands fisting into his hair and your hips rocking upwards against his lips. There was an ache within you, you wanted to feel more of him, needed just a little more – 

Like always, he read your mind, and mere seconds later, he was sinking two long fingers into you, curling them up exactly as he had that night. Exactly as he knew you liked. 

“Fuck, Din-” You keened his name softly, hips moving to match the pace as he pumped his fingers in out, curling them up into that spot that he found so easily. 

He heard every noise you made, every reaction of your body and adjusted his pace and pressure in response, tucking away your reactions so he would always remember what you liked the most. 

His rhythm wasn’t perfectly balanced, but it altered according to you. He learned fast and made sure that every single action provided the best possible feeling for you. 

And stars above did he do a good job. 

That electricity and fire was curling tense in your lower belly, singing through every inch of your soul. You were so desperate for him, your body crying out for him so badly that he had taken you to that edge already. “You… Shit, keep going, just like that…” 

Din switched pace so fast you didn’t register it at all. One minute, his lips were sucking at your clit, his fingers stroking you – and the next, his tongue was pushing inside you and his fingers were on your bundle of nerves instead, drawing rapid circles and figures of eight that made you fully arch up off the bed. 

“Din!” You cried his name, your whole body crying his name actually. It just felt so good, so devastatingly good that you weren’t sure how you were supposed to not want to do this all the time. 

Your back arched further, your fingers wound so tightly in his hair as you shamelessly rode your hips to his rhythm, chasing down your high that he was holding you above. You knew you must be hurting his head, but he didn’t seem to mind, if anything, it was spurring him on, knowing that you needed to hold onto something to try and contain the pleasure. 

His hands shifted to your hips, not to hold you down, but to pull you in closer, so he could bury his tongue deeper inside you, his own moans and growls of pleasure vibrating through the soft flesh. His stubble and moustache scratched against your sensitive skin, and that in itself was herding your body closer and closer to the edge, dangling you over. 

Words were beyond you, the hot press of his tongue inside your walls was something you could never forget, and as he curled his tongue upward, brushed against that spot and pressed his fingers down harder, light exploded across your eyes. 

The heat of your pleasure seared through every inch of your body, taking over with a pleasant hum, rendering you almost helpless as his name fell from your lips again and again. 

Din didn’t stop, working you through your orgasm with that same pace, until your hips stopped rocking, your fingers relaxed in his hair and you could see again.

“Fucking hell…” You mumbled the words, shivering as Din cleaned you up, soft gentle strokes with a husky chuckle. 

He pressed kisses back up your body, allowing you to catch your breath but by the time he reached your lips, and you tasted yourself on his tongue, you were ready, needing him again. 

And by the hard line of his trousers, you knew he must be too. 

As soon as his lips touched yours, you kissed him with fierce intensity. Your hands roamed down his back, mapping over his scars and bruises, painting an image in your mind of the man you loved, bringing him to life in the darkness. 

He groaned into your mouth as you slipped your hands between your bodies, feeling the tenseness of his stomach muscles, layered with a softness that showed his age – which you absolutely adored. 

This man wasn’t some young, bumbling fool. He was mature, devoted, and you loved every single inch of him. And he had never been touched like this before. 

Sure, he’d had sex – as you found out one slightly drunken night when you were asking each other questions – but you knew that it was just… a release. No touching, no armour off, maybe not even his gloves. 

Who knows how long it had been since this man had been touched like this on his bare skin, with love and passion? You could easily guess it was the same amount of time as you – longer. 

And… you were the first person. 

The first person to feel him. 

To lay your hands upon his skin and show him how truly magnificent he was. 

Spurred by his gasps of pleasure and surprise, you roamed lower, over the happy trail and began palming him through his trousers and pressing your hand into the hard length of him.

Then, quickly, you slipped your hand inside his trousers, feeling the tickle of short, coarse hair and then you gently grasped him, fingers wrapping around his thick, swollen length.  

He moaned roughly against your lips, sucking in a sharp breath and you pumped him a couple times and his hips jerked forward against your touch. 

Your mouth watered at the feel of him, and you pressed your thighs together at the thought of him filling you, being buried inside you and coming undone…

You had never been more grateful for stopping in a town a few years ago and shelling out the obscene number of credits for getting a contraceptive implant in your arm. 

It was something you didn’t really need to bother with worrying about, but sometimes, the lonely nights got to you – and you didn’t want to have to worry. 

And now, you could almost get on your knees and thank the Maker for that stroke of luck, because now you would be able to feel him inside you, every ridge, every vein, every inch of him. 

Din only moaned louder as you brushed your thumb over his head, catching the drop or precum there and he rapidly pulled away. 

You had no time to worry if you’d stepped over a line, because you heard him working at his belt, the sound of metal catching like it wouldn’t release. 

Din swore under his breath and you realised the fumbling was due to his fingers trembling, in anticipation and the result of what was about to happen. 

Heart melting, you sat up, reaching out blindly and finding the belt yourself, “Let me…” 

You managed to undo his belt, even with your eyes covered and pop the buttons on his waistband, all the while feeling Din’s belly rise and fall unevenly as he watched you. 

It felt like hours, but maybe it was only seconds as you heard Din rid the rest of his clothes and climb back over you, one hand next to your head. His breathing was a staccato rhythm and matched your own as your entire body held tight and coiled like a live wire. 

He lined himself up at your entrance, nudging the head of his cock against you and he swore again under his breath as he felt how wet you were for him again, soaked and swollen. “Shit… You... you really want me…” His voice was full of wonder and surprise. 

He still couldn’t get over it, that he had this effect on someone. That he made you half mad with need for him and he could make someone, make you feel that way. 

You wanted him, wanted whatever he could give you and you were happy with it. Lying there, teeth sunk into your lower lip, cheeks flushed and your body open and yielding to welcome him home. 

It was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. 

“Din…” Your whisper broke him from his reverie, and then he was pushing into you, his hand curling into a fist in the sheets next to his head as if to hold himself back from going any quicker. 

He was thick, and you felt every inch as he slowly sunk into you. 

You both moaned in unison as he bottomed out, and he paused for a second so you could adjust to him, a slight sharp sting there but it felt absolutely delightful. 

You would feel this tomorrow, feel that you had finally been joined as one, finally broken down those walls. 

A few seconds later, sheer delight coursed through you and you slipped your hand up to his wrist, curling your fingers around it, “Move... Maker, please, move-”

Din pulled out slowly, before jolting back into you with a force that felt like your very spine would dissolve into nothingness. He felt so good, so perfect inside you and if you had any doubt that soulmates existed, it was gone now. It was like you were made for each other, slotting into one another souls and lives perfectly. 

He started a slow, building rhythm, dropping his head into your neck to suck at the skin, rocking his hips into yours, “You have no idea how good you feel, sweetheart.” His words were a tight whisper into your neck, and you could feel the tense, rigid line of the muscles in his wrists from his clenched fist. He was still holding back, still afraid to hurt you or push you too far. 

You tilted your head into his hair, your words clear, if not a little high with need, “Let go. Din, stop holding back – please, you won’t hurt me. You won’t scare me.” Fuck, you needed this just as much as he did. You didn’t want slow and gentle. You didn’t want to keep dancing around each other. It had been too long, and you had wasted far too much time trying to hold back in front of the other. 

He was still hesitating, still unsure so you took initiative, hooking one of your legs around his waist and pressing the heel of your foot into his lower back to further emphasise your point. The angle opened you deeper, made him sink a little further in so you clenched around him, tight. 

Din choked a little into your neck, his resolve breaking and then he lifted his head, grabbing your knee for grip and then he really began to move. 

He snapped his hips faster, every few thrusts slowing down to push all the way into you, to hit that spot he was so acquainted with until you shouted his name, a prayer and a plea in one. “Fuck, sweetheart – you look… so beautiful, so fucking beautiful-” He moaned the words, watching you arch under him, your hips moving in tandem to match his pace thrust for thrust. 

He dropped his head back to your chest, kissing and sucking at your breasts and nipples, adding new sparks of pleasure along with the deep fire of him pounding in you. 

It wasn’t rough, not at all but it was raw, intense, your bodies syncing and moving with each other in a new dance, saying everything that needed to make up for the past few months. 

Time ticked past as you climbed higher and higher together, your moans echoing with Din’s jagged praise, your nails scratching lines down his back as he pushed up even deeper inside you, hitting places you didn’t even know you had. 

You lost sense of where you ended and Din began and you felt the threads of your lives tighten around each other, saw the golden threads strengthen with each rock of your bodies, further and further as you both flew up and up, exploding into light and stardust. 

Both of you fell apart at the same time, your walls clenching tight around him as he exploded into you, filling you with heat as his hips jerked and stuttered. You both rode each other’s orgasms out, drawing them on and on until you were both utterly spent. 

Din pressed open kisses to your neck, his rough growl still echoing in your ear as he mumbled sweet nothings against your sticky skin, his body weight heavy and welcoming into yours, “You are so beautiful. So, so beautiful.” Again, and again, he whispered these endearing things, until he eased out of you, leaving behind an incredible sense of loss. 

You lay there blissfully, catching your breath, feeling a delicious ache in your bones that had replaced the dull pain from the week’s ordeals – and drowning. 

How surprising such a day ended like this. 

Though you didn’t doubt you would be hearing about it later. 

Din returned, flicking what sounded like a switch on the way back in. 

You heard him kneel next to the bed, and then a warm damp cloth glide over your thighs as he cleaned you both up, before slotting himself against you in the thin bed, facing you this time. 

You eased onto your side, curling up against the wall and his body, a sated smile on your lips, “I… That was…” You shook your head a little, unable to stop the huge grin on your lips. 

Din laughed softly, a quiet, rough laugh that caressed over your body and settled up in your heart. “Amazing? I never knew you were such a cliché.” He tapped your nose playfully, and you could hear the grin on his lips. 

You couldn’t help the slight ache to your heart, the longing of wanting to be able to see how beautiful that grin was, see it light up his face and spark in his eyes. But you would never ask, never even let the thought of asking pop into your head. You appreciated every single thing he gave you, and you were more than content with whatever he was willing to offer. 

So, you shoved that thought away, and instead lifted your fingertips to his face. 

“Uh, sweetheart, you’re about to poke my eye.” 

Indeed, you felt the soft brush of his eyelashes on your fingertips like moths’ wings, and you mumbled a sorry before tracing the line of his eyebrows, up his temples and across the slight wrinkles on his forehead. “I told you to stop frowning.” 

Din huffed softly at your teasing, his warm breath tickling your wrist. 

You followed a path down his nose, feeling the gentle bump to it that added a new little unique feature to the blurry map in your mind. On your fingers went, over the hair lining his upper lip that you could still feel the ghost of between your thighs. “I like this…” You couldn’t stop the slight cheeky smile, your toes curling a little. 

He chuckled again, his lilt to his voice letting you know that his smile had turned wicked, “Oh, I know. I tasted how much you liked it.” A warm lick of heat tickled in your lower back at his voice, and you shook your head adoringly. 

Next up, his lips. Those soft, plump lips that should be made sinful. You ran the pads of your fingertips over them, then yelped softly as Din suddenly bit them, lightly and playfully. “Hey!” 

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He didn’t sound sorry though, he still sounded like he was smiling, and you realised it was... the happiest you’d ever heard him. 

You were about to say as much, when you heard him move and then suddenly, the blindfold was tugged off your head, disorientating you with the unexpectedness of it.

You gasped, squeezing your eyes shut rapidly, “Din! You haven’t-“

“Relax, cyar'ika. Open your eyes…” 

“But-”

“Open them, princess… Trust me.”

Hesitantly, you opened your eyes the faintest slit, and you were met with… Darkness?

Opening them further, you realised why. 

Din had turned the lights off on his way back in from getting the cloth. That’s what that sound was. 

The entire room was swathed in darkness, only the faint glow of the control panel over his shoulder. It provided the barest silhouette of light, allowing you to see the slight outline of those ridiculous shoulders, and just about the edge of his ear. 

“I couldn’t stand the thought of you keeping that blindfold on… I… I know this isn’t… me… but… That way… You’re not kept out entirely. I could never keep you out...” His voice was a little rough, and you could feel the rapid beat of his heart. This was the barest he’d ever been before you, the most exposed. 

The amount of trust he was bestowing in you was almost heady. All it would take is one tiny malfunction in the ship, for the lights to come back on and then you’d see him. 

You swallowed, your own heart pounding and you gazed in the general direction of his face, seeing him but... seeing none of his features at the same time. But still, to know he was right there, to feel his breath on your skin and see the tinies outline of him… it shattered you nearly.

“Thank you… I… Thank you. This… all of this... I can never thank you enough, Din. For everything you’ve ever done for me. For throwing away the bounty puck, for keeping me safe, for rescuing me… You’ve kept me alive far more than you know. You saw something in me and chose not to give up. And that’s more than a lot of people have every done for me, ever. When I’m with you… I feel safe. To be myself and… I feel like I could conquer anything, as long as you were there.” 

You felt his hand snake to your waist, tracing slow, soothing circles on your skin. 

“There’s so much I have to thank you for, so, so much I want to say to you. I’m… not always good with words… And it’ll take me time to… to open up fully but…” You shook your head slightly, all of the words tumbling over in your head, and you didn’t know where to start or if you would ever end. So, you settled for the four words that would be just enough for now. “I love you, Din.” Tears sprung to your eyes as you finally said those sweet words aloud, “I’ve loved you since I saw you in that alleyway, pretending you didn’t know me to keep me safe.”

Din’s breathing stuttered, catching over itself as he caught his breath. You felt him shudder a little as you mumbled the words, he had so longed to hear. He leant in, pressing his lips to yours in a slow, tender kiss that was so blissfully warm, so loving that it almost hurt. “You don’t ever need to explain yourself to me or feel like you need to tell me things. We’ll… we’ll work on it together, okay?” 

Work on revealing yourselves to each other, bit by bit. 

You smiled, breathlessly and teary against his lips, “Okay…” 

~

It might have been hours later, but you were wrapped up in Din’s arms, your legs tangled, his arm over your waist and the other under your head – the bed was still extremely small.

You’d both drifted off to sleep now and then, in between the gentle kissing, the random conversations about Grogu and Duru’s mishaps or whether the best flavour of macarons was blue or pink. 

But you were awake now, something floating around your head that was still there form a few days ago. Din was relaxed in front of you, his breathing even and deep, tickling your skin. 

He had given up so much of himself to you already, even more so tonight allowing you to touch him, to see him in a way. And you loved him with every single fibre of your being, and... knew that he felt the same. 

And… it was time. 

You wanted to. 

You wanted this. 

Despite that, you still had a nervous writhing in your stomach, and it was a good fifteen minutes before you plucked up enough courage to speak, “Din? Are… you awake?”

 His previously still fingers traced up the tattoo on your spine, “Mmm…” His voice was a rough hum, but you knew he was awake. 

No more secrets. Starting now. 

“I… I want to tell you something. About me… My past.” You bit your lip, fiddling with your necklace. 

You heard Din nod against the pillow slightly, “Okay… Anything.” 

Swallowing, you closed your eyes, like it might give you strength. “I want to tell you… why I have a bounty on my head. And why it’s so high.” Your words were a near whisper. 

Din went very still around you, so quiet you might have thought he had gone back to sleep. Just before dread began to curl in your belly, the low rumble of his voice broke the silence. “I… I know what you’re going to tell me. And… I know.

At that, your eyes flew open, shock filtering though you, “What?

Maybe he misunderstood what you meant, or had heard another rumour…

Like always, he could read your mind, what you were thinking even in the darkness. “Sweetheart, I know.”

Previous| Next.

[dameronology]

asystole {obi-wan kenobi x reader}

summary: ‘the trouble is the way you stick, to any part of me that remains in tact/but if i pull the plug, it isn’t only me i’m holding back’ - asystole, hayley williams (a.k.a ‘the one where you’re the bane of obi-wan’s life, even as a force ghost’) 

warnings: mentions of death, swearing, angst, and me not having a single fucking clue how force ghosts work 

this was originally based on a random idea i had and also encouragement from kara/@hellotherekenobi who requested a prompt that i completely forgot to include but...we move. also, i would highly highly recommend listening to the above song just because it’s a real tear jerker and i lOVE it 

enjoy 

- jazz 

Loss, for Obi-Wan, was not a stranger. It was an old acquaintance, constantly lingering beside him -- not quite there, but not gone either. He could always feel its presence, a constant and painful reminder of everyone he’d lost. He could probably count them all one hand but that didn’t make it any better. Loss was loss, whether it were two people or ten. Even if his grief had stopped and started with the passing of his master all those years ago, it was still something he felt in its wholeness and in its entirety. Because that’s all Obi-Wan could do: feel. It was everything or nothing. Zero percent or one hundred.

And with you, he wished it were nothing. He wished that your sudden absence from his life was something he didn’t have to feel in every fibre of his being. It was hard enough to acknowledge and even more painful to comprehend. You were the one person he’d always just assumed would be there forever. How foolish it now seemed, he was very much aware. Everybody died -- Qui-Gon Jinn was a testament to that; as was Satine Kryze and quite literally every other person in the galaxy who’d had the pleasure of being reminded of their mortality. It was just that this was...it was you. You weren’t immortal by any means but maker, you had acted like it. The way you went about life with an air of recklessness and discontent for the rules, making even the hardest of missions into an adventure. His life had been a thousand times better since you’d come running - nay, stumbling - into it. You’d blown his entire world to bits and pieced it back together with tiny, intricate bits of yours. Filled it with chaos and laughter and a light he hadn’t felt since the days of his youth. 

Perhaps most importantly, you’d looked after one another. He would stay by your side 24/7 to make sure you kept your head screwed on your shoulders, and you would pester him to drink water and remember to eat. He would remind you when you had important missions and meetings, and in return, you’d proof-read his paper work. He remembered the first time he’d fallen asleep beside you, to wake up with a blanket wrapped around him and his boots pulled off. It was so clear in his head because it was the first time someone had ever done anything for him without asking. It became something you did often, and though he never said it, it was something he kept so close to his heart. 

Obi-Wan wasn’t a fool. He knew you weren’t going to be around forever - he just didn’t realise that not forever was going to be a whole lot sooner that he’d anticipated. He used to make jokes about how your recklessness would one day lead to your demise. The idea of it made him feel sick now. He’d been right the entire time. He didn’t want it to be real.

None of it felt real. The whole conversation he’d had with Mace Windu about you not making it felt like a distant nightmare, something he’d tried so hard to wake up from, only to find that he was wide awake the entire fucking time. Night terrors were bad, but reality was arguably worse. 

It didn’t feel right at first, to see your chambers still filled with your stuff and your lightsaber still resting on your nightstand. Obi had been the one to put it there when you’d been taken to the infirmary, thinking you would have asked for it when you woke up - but you didn’t. It went hand-in-hand with the robes he’d hung up on your door and the get well soon, moron card he’d brought you. 

Then, they emptied your room. Took your clothes and your books and every other worldly possession you had. Your name was removed from the door to your quarters and added to the list of Jedi who had died in combat on the stone in the Temple gardens. Aside from that, any sign that you had ever walked the halls or burst into council meetings at the last minute was gone. You lived on only in his memories, your lopsided smile ingrained into his mind and contagious laugh echoing constantly in his brain. 

Throwing himself into work was the only option for Obi-Wan. He already took on a thousand things at once, but without you to help bare the weight, it became a million. If he was busy, he didn’t have time to think -- about you, or how fucking fragile everything was, or about all the ways he could have saved you. You’d slipped through his fingers, even when he’d be holding on so tightly. It wasn’t his fault. It was just...life. 

A few weeks passed, and Obi-Wan continued to push himself. Everybody noticed it -- how suddenly busy he was, how quiet he’d become, how tired he looks. Blue eyes had grown exhausted with grief and regret, strawberry blonde hair becoming longer and unrulier than was characteristic for him. When you’d died, you’d taken a tiny piece of him with you. An important part. Maybe that part had been you. 

It was on a cold Tuesday evening that he heard the four words. Sat out on the balcony of his quarters, watching Coruscant and life pass by in a blur ahead of him, a tangle of traffic and noise and a million sounds that he couldn’t quite decipher. The sky was a navy blue, cast with the tiny little glints and dots of distant planets. All worlds that you’d once promised to explore 

‘You look like shit.’  

He thought he’d imagined it at first. In fact, it wouldn’t have been the first time in the last few weeks that the sound of your voice in his head had felt clear enough to be real. Imagining things - hallucinations and echoes of the long gone - was simply part of the grieving process. A process he’d gone through countless times before. 

 The sudden appearance of you in the corner of his eye jolted him like an electric shock. Perhaps not that far off of the emotional equivalent of being hit by a bus. Or a light freighter. Or...all of those things at once. 

You were ethereal. When he’d last seen you, you’d been...tired. Now, you were smiling and radiating some sort of energy that could only be described as quintessentially you. There was not a chance in hell that a grief-induced hallucination could be so life-like, so crystal clear. Plus, why would he have imagined you like this, slightly transparent and with a blue glow surrounding you? A fitting colour for your final form, he figured. 

‘Shocked to see me?’ Your drawl continued. ‘Because if you think you’re shocked, let me tell you. One second I was napping and the next I was a fucking Force ghost. Could you imagine?’

Obi-Wan smiled softly. ‘I don’t think I could.’

‘I can float through walls, though.’ You grinned. ‘How cool is that?’

‘It’s...that’s very cool.’ He replied. ‘I don’t suppose you can hug Force ghosts?’

Obi-Wan reached his palm out towards you - slowly but surely, as though he were scared you were going to fade away all over again if he touched you. You mimicked his actions, faded blue fingertips just moments away from his. When they finally touched, they didn’t. You felt nothing. He felt a rush of cold, as though somebody had poured a bucket of cold water over him.

He didn’t fully understand the concept of Force ghosts. Studied them, sure. Understood them? Not quite. There weren’t enough Jedi texts in the galaxy to fully capture the complexity of what made somebody come back. Often, they were linked to acts of heroism, or stemming from action taken when the person was still alive. That didn’t seem like you though. You weren’t the sort of person to try to fiddle with jinxes and hijinkery that would allow you to come back once you were dead - at least not purposefully. There was certainly every chance you did it accidentally. 

 ‘Guess not.’ You murmured. ‘Sorry ‘bout that.’

The icy feeling only grew closer as you took a seat beside him. It was funny, because he thought that if he’d had the chance to reunite with you, that it would have been more emotional than this. Something filled with more feeling and grandeur. Instead, you’d just appeared, and acted as though you’d never been gone in the first place. Obi-Wan preferred it that way. 

‘I’ve missed you.’ He continued to stare blankly ahead. 

When you died, there were a thousand things he’d come up with that he’d wished he’d said. They ranged from comments about the weather to grand declarations of...how much you meant to him. All things he would never dare say to your face, and that’s probably why he came up with them. Because he would never get the chance to say them. And now, here you were, right beside him, and he had a second opportunity to get that closure -- but the words didn’t quite come. They stayed on the tip of his tongue, there, but not quite there. Even if this wasn’t quite the version of you that he imagined himself telling them to, it was still undeniably you. 

‘I should hope so.’ You tried to nudge him with your elbow, but it was just another icy jab. ‘I would say that I missed you too, but I don’t know where I’ve been.’

‘What happened between then and now?’ Obi asked. ‘Between that and this?’

‘Okay, first of all - you can say my death. Coming up with a thousand other words for it won’t undo it.’ You said. ‘And...I don’t know. I just remember blaster fire, then some darkness, and then I was here.’

‘Did it hurt?’

‘Well it didn’t tickle.’ You replied ‘It was quick, if that’s any comfort.’

‘I suppose it is.’ He murmured. 

‘You’re being uncharacteristically quiet.’ You observed. ‘I can go away if you want. I’m not sure how this whole thing works but if you want me to leave, I can go and scare Dex-’

‘- that’s the last thing I want.’ He cut you off. ‘I just..I’ve spent the last few weeks trying not to acknowledge that you’re truly gone and it’s a little hard to do that when you’re quite literally a ghost.’

‘I’m not really gone though, am I?’ You said. ‘I’m still here. Not as I’d like to be, but I’m here.’

‘So as long as you’re around to irritate me and make snide comments, you’re here.’ He smiled. ‘Whether that’s in the flesh or...in the blue.’

‘I’m sorry it happened.’ You gently sighed. ‘Not sorry that I died for the greater good but sorry it was so..sudden.’

‘It’s not your fault.’ He wanted to reach across, to take your hand in his or run it down your arm - but he couldn’t. He couldn’t deal with another rush of cold in place of what used to be warm flesh. ‘It was still undeniably your most half-witted decision to date but you saved a lot of people, so I won’t hold it against you.’

‘Oh, how kind.’ You snorted. ‘I bet you’ve secretly enjoyed the peace and quiet, Kenobi.’

‘I miss it already.’

-- 

Obi-Wan woke up the next morning, still on the balcony. The air was cold -- as evidenced by his violent shivers -- and the sky had changed from navy, to a turquoise-tainted pink. The city below was moderately quiet, signalling that it was still pretty early. The only sounds were coming from traffic in the distance and the occasional whoosh of a passing jet in the sky above. He stayed like that for a moment, azure eyes clouded with some kind of apprehension as he watched the clouds slowly pass, not a care in the world for the fact it was fucking freezing. 

Last night had been real, even if there was no sign of your presence. Actually, that wasn’t quite true -- the robes he’d discarded before your appearance had been thrown over him like a blanket. They did little to protect him from the cold air, but it was a confirmation that you had been there. He wasn’t sure when you’d left - or how - but he was the only one on the balcony. 

There were a lot of questions floating about in his head. Why were you only turning up now after weeks? Why had you materialised by him? Why were you here at all? You were finally free, free to do literally whatever you wanted, and you’d wound up by his side. There were millions and millions of places in the galaxy and somehow, his balcony was the one where you’d wanted to be. 

After showering and shaving, Obi-Wan found himself heading towards the classroom of the best Jedi he knew: Yoda. If anyone was going to know anything about Force ghosts, it was him. He’d have to make sure not to let slip exactly what he was talking about - your relationship with him was far more attached than the code allowed, after all - in a more general sense, he must have had something to offer. It wasn’t the kind of thing they taught in Jedi training. If anything, it was the opposite. The lesson was don’t become attached enough to someone so that they haunt you! - and it was one at which he’d failed quite miserably. 

‘Master Kenobi.’ Yoda sat in the middle of the classroom, meditating. He didn’t have to open his eyes to know who it was. ‘Of assistance, may I be?’

‘Good morning.’ Obi-Wan greeted him with a bow. ‘I have some questions, and I was hoping you might be able to help me.’

‘Do go on. Help, I might be able to.’

‘Right.’ He cleared his throat, awkwardly taking a seat beside him. ‘What do you know about Force ghosts?’

‘Lots. Specific, you must be.’

‘Say you had a dear friend, and they died.’ He began. ‘Then they came back a little while as a Force ghost.’

‘Come back, they don’t.’ Yoda opened one eye, glancing over at him. ‘Never gone, they were. The Force takes time to manifest.’ 

‘So...the ghost version of them is still them?’

‘Very much so.’ He said. ‘Why, there are many reasons. Many Jedi study for a long time to materialise as ghosts after passing.’

‘What if they didn’t?’

‘Then unfinished business, they have.’ He replied. ‘When a Jedi dies, their Force connections do too. If they are left unbroken, exist as a ghost they will.’

Well, that explained it. 

‘Right.’ He murmured. ‘Last question, I promise - how long does that connection usually last?’

‘Months to years, it may be.’ He explained. ‘On their unfinished business, the connection depends.’

‘That makes sense.’ Obi-Wan nodded. ‘Thank you, Master Yoda.’

The little green creature simply nodded in response, turning his attention back to his meditation. He didn’t ask questions -- what was the point? He’d been around hundreds of years, and dealt with hundreds of similar things in that time. Truth be told, he didn’t have all the answers. He was just good at acting like it. 

Obi-Wan pondered on the conversation for the rest of the day. 

 There were a lot of things that could have constituted your unfinished business. The list was endless, especially given how suddenly you’d passed. Nobody knew you better than Obi-Wan, but even he struggled to decipher it. You weren’t the sort of person who would hang around for no good reason. It had to be something important -- something so pressing that you quite literally couldn’t pass away in its entirety without dealing with it. Part of him was worried that he didn’t know at all; you were always sneaking about, always doing something that you shouldn’t have been. That left a long list of possibilities. 

But Yoda had directly mentioned Force connections, right? Maybe he’d meant it in a general way, but Obi would have been a complete dumb-ass to think that the Jedi didn’t know what was going on. If the situation didn’t tell him, his seeming ability to know everything about everyone certainly would have. You were the only person he could have possibly been talking about. 

It was something he knew he had to bring up, and so he made the mental promise to himself. The best time would have been that night, when he saw you again. If he saw you again. He trusted you to return. You knew better now than to disappear forever without saying goodbye. 

And he’d been right. That evening, after he’d exchanged goodbyes with Anakin, Obi-Wan found himself wandering out to the balcony. Sure enough, you were leant against the railings, back turned to him as you peered down at the city below. The air was cold again -- maybe because it was Winter, but also maybe because of you -- and the harsh winds blew back your hair. He wanted to reach out and feel it, to feel you, but he couldn’t. A man whose love language was physical touch was sure to suffer when the person he wanted most was a fucking entity.  

‘You’re late.’ You glanced over your shoulder at him. ‘Don’t your meetings normally end at six?’

‘Anakin wanted to talk about something.’ He replied. ‘So is this your life now? Waiting for me to come home?’

You snorted. ‘Don’t flatter yourself. I’ve been at the diner all day moving stuff around to confuse Dex.’

‘That’s mean.’

‘And what would you do if you were a Force ghost?’

Wait for you. Follow you.

‘Explore.’ He lied, leaning against the balcony beside you. ‘I spoke to Yoda today about...this.’ 

‘Mmm?’ 

‘He said that people who usually come back either purposefully prepared for it when they were still alive.’

‘Or?’

‘How do you know there’s an or?’

‘Because I sometimes struggled to turn on my lightsaber. You think I’m skilled enough to do this shit on purpose, Kenobi?’

‘You’re…’ brilliantly intelligent, easily the smartest person I know, ‘...clever. Don’t put yourself down.’

‘Just cut to the point.’

‘Right.’ Obi-Wan cleared his throat. ‘He said that, or that they had unfinished business. Force connections still strong enough to keep them here.’

‘So, you and me?’

‘What?’

‘Our Force connection.’ You said it as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. ‘You do know what we have one, right?’

‘I...I figured we were always just...close.’ 

‘No, you dipshit.’ You shook your head with a laugh. ‘They can develop between best friends. It’s a little rare, but we’re both so strong with the Force that it just happens naturally.’ 

‘That makes sense.’ he turned to look out at the city. ‘I didn’t really have a best friend before you.’ 

You looked over at him, a smile playing on your lips. ‘Yeah, me neither.’

--

Obi-Wan quickly fell into a routine, post-you. Not post-you completely, because he still saw you every evening, but that had helped push him towards the transition. He adjusted to only seeing you after work - not in the mornings or during the day or every waking second like it used to be. Nothing was how it used to be. Not even close. You were no longer beside him during meets or climbing into bed next to him when you had nightmares. There were no more missions with you or late nights filled with paperwork and laughter. 

That was the problem. 

You were here, but you weren’t really. The ghost he saw every night had your eyes and your laugh and your personality, but it wasn’t really you. Obi-Wan couldn’t touch you; he couldn’t feel you in the same way he used to. It was like having a conversation with a figment of his imagination -- conversations of false hope and plans that would never come to fruition. Because you could banter and you could laugh and you act like things weren’t completely fucking different, but they were. You were a ghost. A ghost of yourself, a ghost of the past, a ghost of what used to be. 

It had helped the pain at first. Eased the dread of knowing that you weren’t ever going to be back, not properly. Obi-Wan had appreciated that. It made grieving a lot easier when you were technically still there to tease and jester him through the process. Knowing that his friendship was the reason you couldn’t fully let go of existing had both made it better and worse. Better, because it meant you cared for him as deeply as he did for you. Worse, because it was so open-ended. At what point would you be satisfied enough to finally let go? Would he get to say goodbye, or would you just be here forever? 

That was the problem, Obi-Wan had come to find. 

He was hopelessly in love with you - though that much was obvious - and he couldn’t deal with only having some of you. He wanted all of you, or he wanted none of you. Only being able to talk to a blue apparition of you just wasn’t enough. It was just a constant reminder that the person he loved most in the universe was gone, and that he’d never fully have you. He was kicking himself for that one. What if he’d said something to you when you were still alive? Declared his love for when he could still physically reach out to you? 

That was the thought plaguing his mind every night. With you beside him, a cold aura radiating towards him as you sat with your legs hugged to your chest. It had been a few weeks since your first appearance, and your nights together ranged from deep conversations to comfortable silence. The latter was always worse, because Obi-Wan constantly found himself teetering on the edge of saying something. It was hard, because despite everything, he found you to be more enchanting and peaceful than ever. More entrancing. 

‘Can I tell you something?’ He asked. 

‘Sure thing.’ You peered over at him. ‘You look worried. Is it serious?’

He paused for a moment. ‘Depends how you take it, I suppose.’

‘Try me.’

‘There are…’ he faltered again. ‘There are some things I regret not telling you when you were still here.’

‘I am here.’ You reminded him. 

‘No, I know that.’ He found himself unable to look at you. ‘I mean when you were here here.’

‘What’s the difference, Obi?’

‘Remember when you used to come to my bedroom at 2AM because you’d had a bad dream?’ He asked. ‘Or when you’d throw yourself into my arms after we’d been separated on long missions?’

‘Yeah.’ 

He absent-mindedly reached a hand out towards you; it went straight through you, a rush of cold shooting down his arm. ‘I can’t do that anymore.’

‘You can still talk to me.’ You urged. ‘You can still be with me-’

‘- not in the way I want.’ Not in the way I need.

‘What do you mean?’ You gently pushed.

‘You don’t need me to explain it.’ He finally looked at you, blue eyes shrouded with an emotion you couldn’t quite decipher. 

‘Obi-Wan, what do you think has been keeping me here?’ You asked. 

You knew. Of course you fucking knew. Try as he might to be mysterious and suave, but you could read him like a book -- and it was a shock to you that he hadn’t seen your feelings either. They were clear as day to both of you, and yet it had been easier to ignore them for the sake of your friendship, and for the sake of the code. You both always figured that you could deal with them at a later date, because that’s when you’d had a later. 

‘Just say it.’ You murmured. ‘Say that you love me too and I’ll go-’

‘- I don’t want you to go.’ He cut you off. ‘Because then you’re gone forever.’

‘And then you can move on.’ You smiled. Neither of you knew that ghosts could cry until now. 

This was the closest he would ever get to having you now. He could have just sucked it up and dealt with it, and kept you by his side in your ominous form - but would that have been fair on you? To keep you around, just because he was so full of regret over things unsaid and so full of fear over grieving? None of this was fair, on him or on you.  

‘I can’t say it.’ Obi-Wan murmured. ‘Not yet.’

‘It’s okay.’ You gave him a watery smile. ‘I know.’

Neither of you said anything else - maybe you didn’t want to, or maybe you were scared to. The fact you’d finally acknowledged the bantha in the room after years, finally admitting that love had been the driving force behind what made your friendship so good, for so long. The irony was that when you’d died, he’d wanted nothing more than for you to come back in some form. Now, he realised that it was holding him back from moving on -- and he couldn’t do that until he’d let you go. But he couldn’t do that either. 

Unbeknownst to Obi-Wan, his words had been a confession. Albeit a thinly veiled one, but a confession nonetheless. It had confirmed to you the only thing you’d wanted to know before you’d passed: that he loved you back. That was all you needed. It was all you’d ever needed. 

Eventually, the Jedi beside you grew sleepy. That’s how it usually went every night -- you’d talk, he’d fall asleep beside you, and you’d cover him with a blanket and slip out to wherever it was that Force ghosts went at night. He never asked, for fear of it ruining the mystery. Obi-Wan knew that he wasn’t the only person you saw, but it was a nice thought, and one he didn’t want to taint. At least you took more mercy on him than you did with Dex, who slowly thought he was going insane at all the random objects suddenly being moved around. 

When you heard him gently snoring, you stood up. Obi-Wan looked peaceful, as though he’d finally gotten something of his chest - even though he hadn’t realised he’d done it. He hadn’t realised that it had been enough.  

You leant down beside him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. For the first time since you’d appeared, you could finally feel his skin against yours - no cold jolts, no body parts suddenly disappearing through the other. Just your lips against his; warm and...human. 

‘Good night, Obi-Wan.’ You ran a hand through his hair, before standing up and stepping back. ‘I love you. I’ll always love you.’

He felt it. He was asleep, but he felt your lips on his and your hand in his hair, and he’d secretly smiled to himself, not entirely realising what was going on. He’d thought it was a dream, or that he was simply imagining that you could finally touch him as though you were a human, and no longer a cold, blue ghost. 

Because you weren’t. You were no longer a ghost.

Obi-Wan didn’t realise till he rose the next morning, a blanket tossed over him and the feeling of your lips still lingering on his, even hours later. He even dared to smile for a moment, before the knowledge of what he’d done hit him. He’d given you what you wanted - an unintentional confession of love. The thing you needed to finally cut off your Force connection. The only thing still tethering you to this world.

You were gone, but at least he’d finally gotten what he wanted. You. Even if it was only for a few moments.