#Ezra's not doing any of that and he feels firm in doing it

[husband-steve-cortez]

I think the renegade scars are kinda hot but I kind of hate the "naughty Shepards get scars" of it all but I also like it as a renegade thing, especially in me3 where Chakwas calls it a stress issue and I like the angst potential that you're wearing some of the harder choices you've made on your face and that every look in the mirror is a reminder of what kind of person you really are.

[teshadraws]

Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Seekers of Soul

[Chapter 55]

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Tobias and Nia tie up some loose ends around the guild in preparation for their journey to find Will, and Tobias shares a special pastime with his partner.

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Team Evergreen doesn’t make an appearance after their mission in the tunnels, though Jaz stops by Tobias and Nia’s room at dawn two days later to give them an update on Andyn's mood.

“She was quiet for a while,” the stufful says. “Thinking, I suppose. But otherwise she's acting fine again.”

“Did I actually get through that thick skull of hers?” Tobias grumbles. He’s tying Nia’s scarf around her arm before they leave for the day, and it’s slipping annoyingly through his fingers.

Jaz sighs. “No, unfortunately not. It’s going to take more than a few heated words to get her to change her mind about this. Ezra and I have tried. But...”

Nia’s ears perk. “But..?”

“Something you said did make her think, Tobias. Maybe you planted some seeds that just need a bit of time to bloom.”

Pretty words for such a nasty conversation, Tobias thinks idly as he finally ties Nia’s scarf tight. He doesn’t have nearly as much faith that Andyn will turn over a new leaf any time soon.

Nia smiles at Jaz. “Well, I’m happy to hear she’s back to her normal self, at least. Sorry again that our group mission wasn’t, uh…as fun as we might’ve hoped.”

Tobias opens his mouth to say that that was Andyn’s fault, not theirs.

Jaz beats him to it, laughing softly. “Not your fault. Neither of your faults, really.”

Nia doesn’t argue that point, and the stufful leaves shortly after with a word of luck for their mission today and a promise to pass their hellos on to Ezra.

“Well, I’m glad we don’t have to worry about Andyn too much,” Nia says as the two of them pack up for the day and head down the Lexym Tree to the mission boards. “Are you still doing okay?”

Tobias is doing fine. Probably better than he should be, honestly. While Andyn hit a sore spot and he was much harsher than Nia would’ve been regarding the deerling’s parents, he stands firm by his conviction that Andyn needs a wake-up call. His words didn’t manage to get through to her, but he doesn’t really regret what he said, either.

“I’m fine. Just wish she’d wake up and realize her parents are the problem here.”

Nia is behind him on the steps, but Tobias can feel her attention on him, laser-focused. “You fought about her parents?”

Belatedly, Tobias realizes that this is the first time he’s said what his argument with the deerling was even about. Nia has been careful not to push.

“They suck, okay?” Tobias growls. “If they’re the reason she’s like that, then she should know that that’s messed up.”

Nia hums, but otherwise falls silent. That’s as good as an agreement for her, so Tobias doesn’t let the issue linger as they reach the ground floor where the mission boards are posted.

They’re still waiting to hear back from August about traveling to Will’s human settlement, so they’ve been avoiding any missions that would wear them out too much just in case they need to leave on short notice. Still, Tobias does have to swallow his pride when he realizes that leaves them with just a few very basic mission options for the day.

It’s not that he thinks the jobs are beneath him or anything, but they are undeniably…boring. And they give them less Seeker points, too. But he refuses to throw a fit like Andyn did.

“Well, let’s get this over with.”

“Hey, it might be fun!” Nia says, looking genuinely excited about the mission she’d picked out for them. “I haven’t tried cooking since waking up in this world.”

Tobias gives her an appraising look as they make their way back up the tree’s staircase. “Did you cook a lot as a human?”

Nia shakes her head. “Just basic stuff. Baking, mostly. But if it’s a low-level mission, it can’t be anything too complex, right?”

Tobias shrugs. For all his years at the guild, he’s never actually helped out in the cafeteria kitchen, always too busy trailing after Maggie and helping with medicinal duties.

He’s surprised to find that the day is actually pretty interesting, tucked away in the guild’s sprawling kitchen. They’re put to work under the command of the cooking staff, and their mission for the day is to provide breakfast and lunch for the entirety of the guild.

The vespiquen in charge has Tobias use his flames often, lighting fires in clay ovens and carefully toasting nuts and vegetables. He isn’t sure whether to be offended or proud when the chef looks at him with delight halfway through the morning with a clap of her hands and proclaims that they must make occa berry flambé for dessert today, with a fire type’s flames so readily on-hand.

He is proud, in an embarrassed sort of way, when the bug type compliments him on his temperature control with his flames. He manages to avoid burning a single pot or dish. While it’s a strange feeling, he likes the appreciative looks he gets from the other workers when he uses his fire, rather than the guild's usual wariness.

Tobias actually ends up enjoying the day more than Nia does, if the way she drags herself to the stairs at the end of their shift is any gauge. Her fur is caked in flour from a few ingredient mishaps, and Tobias has to bite back a laugh at her appearance.

She gives him a tired, playful glare in return. “Want to share with the class?”

“You look like a fidough.”

“Fidough,” Nia echoes, squinting. “Is that…a dog Pokemon? Oh my God, is that a bread pun?"

“It’s their species name. They are kind of…doughy, though. Yeah. That's the joke.”

Nia barks a laugh, and Tobias grins.

“Pokemon names are so silly! Hahaha!”

Tobias shakes his head as he leads the way up the stairs to their quarters. “Hey, at least they make sense. Who looks at a riolu and calls it a dog? What even is a dog?”

“Me! I’m a dog!”

“Yeah, yeah. And I’m Reshiram. C’mon, I want to have time to clean up before supper. You wanna eat with Maggie tonight? We can brag about the food we helped make.”

“Oh, that’d be perfect!” Nia says. Her fatigued posture lifts at the prospect, like a flower wilting in reverse. “Don’t let me forget, though, that I really need to talk to Avery sometime about the whole species naming thing. And the Pokemon language in general. Ordirune? It makes no sense that you and I can talk and read the same language when it’s, well…not the same language!”

Tobias vaguely remembers Nia mentioning this before, when they were in Ghatha with Junie. “Does it need to make sense? It works. We can understand each other. That’s what matters.”

“How are you not curious about it? It’s so wild to me!”

“It just doesn’t seem like something you’re gonna be able to figure out, so why waste time thinking about it?”

“Because it’s fun!” Nia counters. “I like trying to figure stuff out, even if it doesn’t really matter.”

Tobias can’t really argue with that. Nia’s just different than him in that regard. Still, as a nincada and surskit pass them on the stairs, he gives it a moment of thought.

“Giratina said that Mew made your Pokemon body, right? She probably did something with your brain so you could understand Ordirune, so you wouldn’t be totally lost in our world.”

“But language isn’t genetic,” Nia argues. “It’s something you learn. That’s true for Pokemon too, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Then it doesn’t really make sense that she could just…imprint it onto our brains, does it?”

Tobias frowns as they finally reach their floor, his legs a bit tired as usual from the climb. “It doesn’t make sense that she could just make you a whole body, either, but here you are. If she made your brain for you, why couldn’t she make it familiar with our language? Pokemon hatch knowing survival instincts because those things were ingrained into our bodies from birth. Like…charmander hatchlings knowing to keep their tail flames small if they’re in danger. Maybe Mew did something similar and built your body so you already know Ordirune and your brain sorta just…translates for you without you realizing it.”

Nia stops behind him right before they reach their door, and Tobias turns to look at her.

She’s staring at him with wide, almost awestruck eyes. “Tobias, that’s such a cool way of thinking about it! Oh man, you should come with me when I meet up with Avery. They'd find that idea super interesting. Plus, I’m sure Xander and the others would love to see you! I think you and Kry are like…bros or something now, after your spar the other day?”

Tobias snorts and turns back to the door. “Yeah, I’m sure they’re all dying to see me.”

His hand settles on the knob, but Nia reaches out to cover it with her own paw. She gives him a long, searching look. “Hey, you know I’m not joking, right?”

“They’re your friends.”

“Well, yeah, maybe first. But they want to be your friend, too. They aren’t just…putting up with you to hang out with me.”

Tobias feels all too seen, suddenly. Like his scarf got lost somewhere and left his neck naked and vulnerable. Tobias shifts on his feet, looking away.

That…doesn’t feel right. But aside from Nia, he hasn’t had a friend his own age since he was nine—and that was his sister. He isn’t exactly an expert on how friends work.

“They’re kind of stuck with me, if they want to be friends with you.”

Nia gives him a light bat of her paw and a scolding smile. “They’re not stuck with you. You’re fun to be around, Tobias. Whether you want to acknowledge that or not.”

Tobias thinks of how he yelled at Andyn just two days ago. “Sure.”

Then, unwittingly, he thinks about the rest of that mission. Thinks about Ezra’s cheeky, playful comments and Jaz’s calm confidence when she encouraged him talk to Andyn alone. Thinks further back, to Kry punching his shoulder during training and Xander and Felix’s lighthearted smack-talk and easy conversation. Thinks about Avery’s gentle smile and full attention when Tobias spoke.

He doesn’t think he’s their friend, not really. But the idea that he might be, someday, doesn’t seem quite as ridiculous as it once was. Tobias has…a lot of mixed feelings about that. Fear that he’s going to royally screw it up is somewhere near the top, though, so he shoves away the warmth the idea brings. No use worrying about it unless it actually happens, after all.

Tobias finally opens the door to their room, only to stop as soon as he notices a piece of paper resting on the floor near his feet. Tobias picks it up, and feels his fingers tighten around the sheet as he realizes what it is.

“What is it?” Nia asks, peering over his shoulder.

“It’s from August,” he summarizes, skimming through the short message. “We have permission to head overseas and find Will first thing in the morning.”

“Giratina was telling the truth, then?”

“Or they think it’s too big a risk to ignore, if nothing else,” Tobias murmurs. The bottom of the note says that the funds for their flight have been dropped into their mailbox, so Tobias digs that pouch out right away to add to their own money. He moves to where their satchel was left to rest against the wall for the day.

“Tomorrow,” Nia says, sitting heavily in her nest and wrapping herself up in one of their blankets like a swadloon. “That’s…so soon. I know we were waiting to hear back from them, but…well. I guess we’d better let everyone know we’re leaving again?”

Tobias drags their bag over and sits to sort through it, catching the disappointed note in his partner’s voice. He doesn’t really mind traveling again, even if their time back at the guild has been fine. Good, even, for the most part. But knowing they’ll have to say goodbye to Maggie again so soon does have something in his heart squeezing tight. He hopes she doesn’t cry.

“Yeah,” he finally answers, pulling out their meager collection of items to sort through. “We can tell Maggie when we eat with her later.”

Nia voices her agreement, watching Tobias as he puts everything together. Her mind is clearly miles away, though.

Tobias leaves her to her thoughts, making sure they have the usual essentials that they travel with: apples and berries for food and status ailments, their map, and a canteen of water for Nia. He would grab some hydration berries for himself if they didn’t shrivel so quickly, but at least fire types don’t dehydrate easily.

Anything else? They could go down to the item dispensary and peruse the orbs and seeds available, but their funds still aren’t overly impressive. And they aren’t planning on getting caught in any dungeons or intense battles.

...Okay, he knows better by now than to assume that will hold true. Still, by this point they’ve mostly gotten by without items, so he thinks they'll be all right without any fancy aids.

Besides, Nia will probably want to bring a book, and their sparse packing leaves plenty of room for that. They could almost pack up Nia’s beloved new blanket too, if they wanted to squish everything in, but that feels like a waste of space if they'll be indoors most nights. He’s basically a walking heater for the riolu at this point anyways.

Tobias looks around the room and his gaze catches on his guitar, leaning carefully against the wall by the window. He frowns at the instrument, fingers flexing as he itches to hold it. He’s been enjoying relearning it, and it calms him down on late nights, but it isn’t really an essential item. Their pack would be better off carrying something actually useful.

“You’re taking your guitar along, right?” Nia asks, startling Tobias out of his thoughts. She must've followed his gaze and guessed what he was thinking.

Tobias shrugs, looking back at their satchel. “Probably not. It’s not exactly useful.”

“It makes you happy,” Nia protests, like that makes it useful, somehow. “Plus, I like hearing you play. So if we’re taking a vote…”

Tobias flushes, falling still. Part of him still wants to argue, rationality over sentimentality and all that, but. Well. If Nia doesn’t mind him taking up the space, then…

Tobias silently gets up to retrieve the guitar. He tucks it away in their bag amongst the other items, pleased with how neatly it slots in between their supplies and a book about abilities that Nia had handed him to bring along.

Packing complete.

It’s only a few short hours later that they go to the medical floor with trays of food in hand, including some of the occa berry flambé that they’d helped make earlier in the day. They call a greeting to Fen and drop off a meal with the leafeon that has them purring their thanks. Next door, Maggie seems pleasantly surprised by their appearance.

"Hello, you two! Good to see you."

“You eat yet?” Tobias asks, holding up one of the two heavy trays he’s carrying.

Maggie smiles, taking the meal with a single vine and settling down in her nest to eat. “I was just starting to feel peckish, actually. Thank you, dear. Will you stay and eat with us tonight?”

“If that’s all right!” Nia says, holding her second tray—which she was insistent on—out to Sage with a smile.

The ivysaur, who had been eyeing the door as if it was just expected for him to leave any time Tobias showed up, blinks in surprise. Then, with a bashful smile and a murmur of thanks, he takes the meal with his own vines.

Tobias and Nia sit down close to Maggie and dig in.

Off to the side, Sage shifts awkwardly on his short legs. His leaves sway with the motion.

“Sit down already,” Tobias grumbles. “We aren’t chasing you out.”

Sage looks even more thrown by the peace offering, but with a glance at Maggie and Nia, he finally settles down as well on Nia’s other side. Maggie smiles soothingly at her apprentice's nerves, and Tobias is surprised that the open affection doesn’t feel…grating, this time. In fact, it feels kind of ridiculous when Maggie immediately turns her attention back to Tobias and Nia with bright eyes, clearly thrilled to have them here.

Tobias wonders how he was ever threatened by Sage’s appearance. Maggie has more than enough love to go around.

As they eat, Maggie questions what they’ve been up to today with a note of amusement in her voice. Her gaze lingers on the patches of flour still caught stubbornly in Nia’s soft fur, even after the riolu had scrubbed at them for a solid half-hour earlier.

Nia groans and dives into her mishaps in the kitchen, including when she’d tripped over a morelull and knocked over a slurpuff who was busy mixing up dry ingredients for a crust. Tobias laughs as he replays the scene in his head, but flushes when Nia follows it up with an exasperated comparison to Tobias basically being “Gordon Ramsay” in the kitchen, whatever that means. It’s clearly a compliment.

Maggie laughs. “That doesn’t surprise me, actually. Tobias was always very careful with measurements when he helped me make our medicines, even when he was small. He has a good eye for detail, when he’s invested.”

Tobias feels his face grow hotter as Nia and Sage look at him with astonished expressions.

“You don’t have to look that surprised."

The ivysaur winces and looks back to his meal with a quiet, “Sorry.”

Nia just shrugs with an easy laugh, as if to ask if he could blame her.

The conversation flows smoothly as they catch up. Sage is quiet, almost silent, but he’s clearly listening, tracking the conversation with pricked ears and sharp garnet eyes as he picks delicately at his meal. Tobias isn’t sure if it’s because the ivysaur is still cautious after Tobias’ initial hostility, or if he’s just that quiet by nature.

Nia tries to pull the grass type into the conversation a few times, but after a few short, almost shy answers, she relents and lets him bask in the conversation without necessarily participating. Maggie doesn’t seem worried about the ivysaur’s silence, so Tobias doesn’t concern himself with it either.

During a lull in the conversation, Maggie says, “You know, your mission from today has me thinking. Sage and I might have to steal you for ourselves soon—we could use some extra hands to gather the last of the autumn herbs later this week. The northern part of the Haven will likely have its first heavy frost soon.”

“Oh. About that…” Nia trails off, giving Tobias a pleading look.

Tobias sighs, putting his fork back onto his tray. Leaving it up to him, huh? “We’re actually heading out again tomorrow morning.”

“So soon?” Maggie asks with a bewildered expression.

“August dropped off a letter today approving our travel, so…” Nia says, dejected.

Maggie smiles, leaning over to brush her muzzle over the top of the riolu’s head. “You’re fine, dear. I knew as soon as we spoke with August that you would be traveling again soon. I’m just going to miss you. And worry, of course.”

“We’ll be fine,” Tobias says. “We always are.”

“You’re always getting into trouble, you mean,” Maggie corrects with a playful glare. “Let a mother worry, Tobias. And just do your best to come home without any new scars, all right?”

Tobias’ hand drifts up to his scarf. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Nia wince and trail a paw over the scarf on her own arm, right where she’d gotten bit by that panpour outlaw moons ago.

“We’ll be careful!” Nia finally says, though her smile doesn’t look nearly as confident as she sounds.

Maggie doesn’t seem convinced either, but drops the conversation to return to lighter topics. Such as how, just yesterday, Sage had given his first bitter medicine to some of the guild children who had come down with a cold.

Tobias laughs at the distraught expression on the ivysaur’s face, more than familiar with the experience after years of doing it himself. “How’d you like giving Bella her dose?”

The little bellsprout could be a menace when she wanted to be. Tobias can still feel the phantom smacking of her tiny root-arms.

Sage groans and drops his face into his tray.

“He made a valiant effort,” Maggie says, patting the ivysaur’s shoulder with a vine. Which means that Sage was surely near tears by the time they were finished.

Tobias uses his fork to point a bite of occa berry dessert in Sage’s direction. “Word of advice? Honey. Drown her dose in the stuff, but don’t tell her it’s anything but what it is. She can’t resist honey, but she won’t eat it if you try to trick her. Stubborn as a mudbray, that one.”

Tobias half-expects the ivysaur to dismiss his words, since Sage is older than him and the one actually in the medicinal role now. Instead, the ivysaur perks up and nods, reaching over his shoulder with a vine to pull a notepad and inkwell off the nearby desk and start writing something down.

Tobias blinks. He didn’t mean to actually take notes. The earnest faith in the gesture has his face heating. He looks away, stuffing a bite of occa berry flambé into his mouth. It’s delicious.

Soon enough, they’re all finished eating and it’s time to head out. Sage quietly insists that he can take the trays down to the cafeteria, leaving Maggie alone with Tobias and Nia.

“You two be careful on your trip, you hear?” Maggie says, voice firmer as she pulls them into a hug. “I don’t want to hear about you getting caught in any more fires or deadly fights.”

“No promises,” Tobias mumbles.

Maggie gives him an extra hard squeeze before releasing him.

“We’ll be careful, Maggie,” Nia says, stepping away with misty eyes. “See you soon, okay?”

Tobias can’t seem to say anything. The words stick like sap in his throat. He swallows against the lump of them and bumps his head against Maggie’s leg once more before stepping away.

The meganium sees them off as they pad down the hall and back down the tree.

“Xander’s team next?” Nia asks.

“You could go on your own, you know.”

“I could. But..?”

Tobias huffs, but doesn’t argue as he follows Nia to Team Shellshock’s quarters. The riolu knocks on the door, and childish shrieks rise up from behind the wood. Luca’s distinct little voice yells, “Hide! Hide!” and Tobias grins.

Avery is the one to answer, the kirlia’s gentle expression lighting up. “Nia! And Tobias. Lovely to see you two.”

“Good to see you too,” Nia says warmly. “Could we come in for a sec?”

Avery steps aside for Nia and Tobias, and as soon as Tobias crosses the room’s threshold he’s tackled by a writhing mass of blue and black fur.

“Gotcha!”

“Surrender, outlaw!”

“Lainey, sit on his head!”

Tobias puts up a halfhearted fight as the shinx cubs work to hold him down. Tiny paws step on his arms and belly and legs and his vision is taken over by lashing tails and gleaming, golden eyes.

“Don’t suffocate him, kids,” Xander calls idly, before his voice is drowned out by childish peals of laughter.

Tobias lets the cubs think they’ve won for a few moments, before twisting and gently throwing them off with an exaggerated roar. Leor squeaks and scrambles away to dive behind Team Shellshock’s items chest. Laine and Luca hiss playfully at Tobias before following their more timid brother, probably to come up with a new plan of attack.

Tobias smirks and moves to join the other occupants of the room.

Xander, Avery, and Nia are watching the cubs peek over the items chest with fond, amused looks. Felix is crouching beside the kids’ hiding place and murmuring something that quickly catches their attention. Kry is nowhere to be seen, probably out training or something while the cubs are here wreaking havoc. She doesn’t seem like much of a kid person.

Tobias stops at Nia’s side, purposefully putting his back to the shinx cubs to make himself an easy target.

“So you’re heading out again already?” Avery is asking.

“You two are the most restless ‘mons I’ve ever met,” Felix calls idly from beside the chest. “Try not to come back all banged up again, all right?”

“I’ll second that,” Xander says, and Tobias is surprised when the luxio’s golden gaze focuses not only on Nia, but Tobias as well. “Be careful.”

“Always!”

Xander chuffs a quiet laugh, as if well aware of how untrue that statement is. “Regardless. Do you two have everything packed up already?”

“I think so?”

“We travel light,” Tobias says.

Xander flicks his tail, looking thoughtful. His eyes stray over to the items chest on the side of the room, though Tobias thinks he isn’t focused on his siblings at the moment. Avery follows his gaze, and Tobias wonders if the kirlia is reading the luxio’s mind, since they apparently use telepathy with each other fairly often.

Avery must be, because they smile at Xander as if pleased with something he’d suggested, then back at Nia and Tobias. “Do you two have any orbs in your inventory?”

Nia looks to Tobias. He shakes his head.

Xander nods, and Avery goes to the chest, murmuring a quiet, “Excuse me,” to shoo the kids off the lid before opening the top and rummaging through it. They find what they’re looking for quickly, returning to Tobias and Nia with a shiny blue wonder orb in hand. Without hesitation, they hold it out.

“Take this with you. Just in case.”

After a beat of surprise, Tobias reaches out to take it, rolling the surprisingly heavy orb around his hands. “What kind is it?”

“An all power-up orb,” Avery answers. “It raises your team’s attack and special attack for a few minutes.”

“But...aren't these really rare or expensive or something?” Nia asks, gently taking the orb from Tobias’ hands to peer closer at it.

“The two of you seem to attract danger wherever you go,” Xander says, not answering the question. “I’ll sleep better if you take it.”

“We both will,” Avery amends.

Tobias’ immediate impulse is to reject such a rare, pricey item just being dropped into their laps. However, he remembers how desperately he’d wanted any kind of helpful item back on the Aqua Jet, when they were traveling via the river and the mystery dungeon hit. It would be undeniably good to have as a back-up measure.

Nia seems equally unsure for a moment, but then she smiles and cradles the orb closer. “Well...thank you, then. It’s really too much.”

"Not at all," Avery says.

Xander’s shoulders lose some of their tension once they accept the gift, and that's what convinces Tobias not to put up a fight. They mean it. They're just worried about their safety, about Nia and maybe even a little about Tobias. And somehow, their concern doesn't feel like pity, but something warmer. Something easier to stomach.

Nia gently bumps Tobias with her hip, so he rolls his eyes and tacks on a quiet, “Yeah. Thanks.”

Xander opens his mouth to respond, but before he can say anything, his ears swivel in the direction of the chest.

That’s Tobias’ only warning before the shinx cubs yell, “Attack!”  and charge Tobias once more. Felix must’ve been giving them battle tips, because this time they move as a coordinated unit, tackling Tobias’ legs. The charmander lets himself go down with an exaggerated oof, and the kids shriek as they swarm his chest, pinning him down with their soft little bodies. While he could still wriggle free if he really wanted to, their combined weight does hold him down pretty effectively. Tobias “struggles” for a few moments more before going limp with a dramatic groan.

“Victory!” Leor says.

“Drag him to jail!” Luca shouts.

“Throw him in the pit!” Laine adds.

“Whoa, where’d you hear that last one?” Felix asks, startled.

“From a cool story Bella found in the archives!"

Bella. Of course. Tobias has said it before and he’ll say it again: that bellsprout is a menace.

“Looks like I’ll be having another chat with Arlo,” Xander sighs, sounding all too much like a father.

Nia and Tobias head out shortly after, despite the shinx cubs’ whining over losing their playmate. At the door, Xander catches Nia in a one-armed hug, brushing the top of her head with his chin. The familiarity of the gesture catches Tobias off-guard, but Nia simply hugs the luxio back, unsurprised by the open affection.

As they leave, Felix and the kids’ loud goodbyes and Avery’s much quieter farewell following them into the hall, Nia hesitates.

“I feel like we should tell Team Evergreen that we’re heading out again, but…”

Tobias can only imagine the awkward tension that would rise if he was shoved into the same room as Andyn right now.

“I’ll leave that one to you.”

“That...might be for the best. I won’t be too long.”

Tobias waves her off, turning to head back to their room. He can get some more practice in on his guitar before they sleep. “Just remember that we head out early.”

“When do we not?” Nia counters, giving a wave of her own before setting off towards Team Evergreen’s quarters.

Tobias is relieved that Nia didn’t want him to join for that last visit. Between working in the kitchen this morning and seeing Team Shellshock and the shinx kids earlier, Tobias is just about done socializing for the day. He’s more than content to flop down in his nest and strum at his guitar for the rest of the night before they get back on the road tomorrow.

To Tobias’ surprise, Nia returns not long after they parted ways, when the moon is just starting to rise into the sky. She assures him that it went well, even if Andyn was a little quieter than usual, and that they all wished the two of them safe travels.

“Wished you safe travels, you mean,” Tobias snorts as he plucks away at an aimless melody. “Andyn probably hopes I fall off our flight ‘mon and into the ocean.”

“I don’t think she’s that upset,” Nia says, lying down herself. She eyes Tobias for a moment before reaching into their satchel and pulling out her book.

The night is peaceful, after that. Tobias works his way through some of the simple melodies from the music book they’d picked up in the archives, familiarizing himself with the easier tunes before trying anything more advanced. Nia reads her book, kicking her legs and occasionally mumbling something to herself.

It’s getting close to midnight when Nia finally yawns and slides her book back into their satchel. She curls up in her nest, blanket pulled tight over her shoulders until it bunches up by her chin, and watches as Tobias plays.

Eventually, Tobias figures he’d better get some rest too and slides the guitar and music book back into their satchel. He closes the curtain until the room is only dimly lit by his own tail flame, and curls up in his nest. He doesn’t realize until he's settled in that Nia isn’t actually asleep yet. Instead, she’s watching Tobias, clearly still wide awake.

“What’s up?” Tobias asks.

Nia shrugs. “Just…can’t sleep.”

Tobias knows the feeling. While it was easy to get lost in his music for the evening, Tobias won’t be surprised if he’s up for a while yet. Especially with their flight tomorrow, he has a lot on his mind.

For a moment Tobias just gazes back at Nia in the dim light, wondering if either of them are going to be well-rested come dawn. Then, he thinks of similar nights long, long ago, of looking at his sister or parents with a similar restless itch under his skin.

An idea pops into his mind.

For a moment, he hesitates. This is something…sacred. Something he hasn’t shared with anyone else since he lost his family. It feels wrong to even think about sharing it.

Then again, that’s what he’d thought about discussing Vivi and his parents at all, before the cart ride from Asra to Shivergleam. And that was…nice. Really nice. Swapping sibling stories with Nia. It hurt, but it also made something in him feel…looser. Like stretching out a stiff muscle that he hadn’t exercised in forever.

Tobias sits up before he can second-guess himself. “C’mon. I have an idea.”

Nia props herself up on an arm. “What?”

He climbs out of their nest and holds out a hand. “Trust me. It’ll help.”

For a moment Nia looks unsure, but then a smile crosses her face. Tobias helps her to her paws, and she doesn’t let go once she’s standing. He decides not to think about it too hard and gives her paw a squeeze, grabbing Nia’s beloved new blanket and slinging it over his shoulder.

“C’mon.”

Nia laughs under her breath as they leave the room, making sure to shut the door extra quiet behind her so they don’t disturb the other Pokemon on the floor.

“Where are we going?”

“Sure, just let me ruin the surprise.”

Nia's brows raise, but she doesn’t ask any more questions and just follows with an air of palpable curiosity. Tobias leads them to the staircase and starts climbing up, up, up through the guild.

“Are we visiting Maggie again?” Nia whispers.

“No.”

Tobias has done this many times over the years, since first arriving at the guild. But he’s always done it alone, sneaking past Maggie’s sleeping form to climb up to his favorite spot. He’d thought about asking Maggie to join before—she would’ve indulged him. But somehow it had always seemed a bit too painful before now. Before Nia. Now it feels less like chasing something he can’t get back and more like…sharing something he loves. Making it new again.

They finally reach the mail floor, evident by the cool breeze blowing into the staircase. There aren’t many fliers that work at night, so the floor is empty, the platforms bordering the edges of the room opening up to patches of clear night sky.

“Oh,” Nia breathes, registering where they are.

She follows him wordlessly as he goes to one of the far platforms and sits down at the end of it. She sits beside him, then casts a nervous glance below them to the Haven's trees, black and spindly and thin with the coming winter. She scoots back an inch.

Like this, they’re sitting at the edge of the world, the sprawling forest below and an ocean of stars above.

Tobias hands over Nia’s blanket, now heated by his own scales, and she gladly takes it to wrap herself up. He’s hardly surprised when she still scooches over to press against his side. The night air is cold, after all, chilly enough that he won’t argue against a little extra warmth himself.

“It’s beautiful out here,” Nia says, hushed. “I couldn’t really appreciate the stars in Asra, since we were on a stakeout. But here…”

“Peaceful, right?”

Nia hums her agreement.

For a moment, they’re quiet. The wind whistles by them this high up, stronger without the blocking force of the forest and carrying with it the crisp scent of the Silenfroar Mountains. Tobias can kind of see where the mountain range sits, a void of pointed black on the horizon that blots out the sky.

Tobias moves his eyes up to stare at the stars, feeling something in his throat tighten even as the rest of him relaxes. Even when he was a child, scared of nothing more than shadows on cave walls, his parents would lead him to the mouth of their cave to look up at the stars when he couldn’t sleep.

It makes him feel small. But in a comforting way.

“This is where we became a team.”

Tobias looks at Nia. “What?”

“Well. Technically we became a team down in the tunnels.” Nia smiles at Tobias. “But I consider this to be where we actually became one. For real.”

Right. After Afon’s Cap, when Nia finally stood up for herself and Tobias agreed to stop being so awful to her. They shook on it. Tobias can still see Nia in the pink evening light, paw outstretched and smile hopeful.

He flushes and looks away. He gestures vaguely with a hand. “Sorry. For. Y’know.”

Nia barks a laugh. “Being a bit of a jerk at first?”

He grunts.

“It’s fine. You’re much sweeter now.”

Tobias shoots her a look. “I’m not sweet.”

“Of course you aren’t,” Nia coos, giving his arm a patronizing pat. He shoves her away, and she laughs, immediately swaying back to his side.

“You have been so sassy lately,” he grumbles.

“Sorry, sorry. I’ll be nice.”

A brief moment of quiet. Then, a giggle from Nia.

“What?”

“I was just thinking about when we first met.”

Tobias has a brief flash of memory, from months ago. Spotting a strange, unfamiliar Pokemon—a riolu—unconscious in the middle of a nearby field. Waking her up to make sure she wasn’t hurt. Getting a blank stare and rising panic in return before Nia bolted into the woods and right into a mystery dungeon, Tobias hot on her heels.

Tobias snorts. “You were a mess.”

"I was!" Nia laughs. "I'm actually kind of embarrassed by it now. Can you imagine Kry’s reaction to seeing me run away from everything like that?”

“You were terrified of a seedot,” Tobias agrees, amused by the thought.

Although, knowing now how wildly different the Pokemon world is from Nia’s own, Tobias can’t blame her for being so freaked out. If anything, he’s a little embarrassed by how harshly he’d treated her. He wasn’t exactly a comforting presence at the time.

“But look at you now. Taking down steelixes all on your own.”

“Are you ever going to let that go?” Nia whines, paws coming up to hide her face.

“Nope. It's objectively awesome. And you aren’t going to tell anyone, so.”

Nia snorts another laugh. “I can’t believe I was so close to becoming a researcher instead of a Seeker. I can’t believe I fight on a daily basis!”

Tobias blinks, looking over at her. “You almost became a researcher?”

“I never told you that? Before I thought of teaming up with you, I thought becoming a Seeker was too scary, so I was going to become a researcher instead. Like Alistair and Tawny.”

Tobias wrinkles his snout, trying to picture it. On one hand, Nia would be right at home surrounded by all those books and the cozy environment of the guild every day. He could see her getting along well with the gardevoir and ribombee down in the archives.

But on the other hand, Tobias has also seen Nia’s eyes light up when she travels somewhere new. Seen how insatiably curious she is about the world and all the Pokemon in it. He's seen how her riolu nature shines through when she’s defending someone in a fight, and how genuinely happy she is when she can help out a client. All of that good would be smothered, stuck here at the guild.

And where would he be, if Nia hadn’t decided to come rescue him in that dungeon? Dead, at worst. Stuck in the medicinal quarters and miserable at best. Maybe Nia would’ve been happy as a researcher, but Tobias is immeasurably glad that they’re here together instead, as a team.

They both fall quiet again, looking up at the stars. The moon overhead is bright, painting everything in shades of black and silver.

“Humans went to the moon, y’know,” Nia eventually says.

Tobias gives her a dry look. “Ha ha. Funny.”

Nia blinks, looking genuinely caught off-guard. “No, really! Not, like. All of us. It was only a few. But we really did.”

Tobias squints at her, doubtful. But Nia doesn’t break. “…I thought you said humans couldn’t fly.”

“We can‘t. Or, well. Not on our own. But we built machines that can!”

Machines. Right. “Like…the cars you were talking about on the way to Asra?”

“Yes!” Tobias can hear Nia's tail give a happy thump against the wood. “Cars are great—they're so much faster than walking. And I loved the train in Ghatha. It was really similar to our own trains, so I wonder if a human had a hand in inventing that.”

“Probably. Don’t know if a Pokemon would’ve come up with something like that on their own. It was…kind of cool, I guess.”

“Oh, just you wait. There are so many cool human things I wanna show you! When I—"

Nia’s words cut off abruptly. Tobias feels a jab at his heart, knowing exactly why she'd clamped her mouth shut so suddenly. He wouldn’t ever get to visit, of course. And Nia wouldn’t get to visit him, either, if she left and went back to the human world. Giratina made that pretty clear. Tobias’ hand drifts up to his scarf, skimming the worn material comfortingly through his fingers.

The dark feels heavier, suddenly. Pressing down on them. Suffocating.

“I’m scared,” Nia eventually murmurs, curling tighter into her blanket. Her breath billows into the night air. “Of what will happen if we can’t do this. If we fail.”

Tobias knows the feeling. While Nia has two worlds’ safety on her mind, Tobias is struggling with just the one. He tries not to think about it too often, or it settles on his chest like a rock slide.

“Do you really think we’ll be able to find Xerneas?” Nia whispers, eyes trained on the mountains in the distance.

Tobias takes a moment to think before responding. “I don’t know. It’s not a great sign that Xerneas and Yveltal have been hidden for so long without anyone stumbling across them, but…”

“They’re the only lead we’ve got.”

Tobias swallows. “Yeah. But if worse comes to worst…we’ll just have to figure something else out. Failing isn’t really an option.”

Not with how much is on the line. They have to find a way to fix this if they want to keep everyone and everything in both of their worlds safe.

Nia turns to tuck her head into Tobias’ shoulder, her breath tickling his skin. The touch is grounding, somehow. Distracting enough to keep him out of his own head. They need a distraction. They can’t do anything until dawn anyways.

“Have I told you how much my family loved stars?” He blurts.

Nia’s breath catches, audible with her so close. “…No?”

Tobias wants to tell her. Wants to share. It’s still a terrifying feeling. His heart beats hard in his chest.

“We…lived in the mountains. Not the Silenfroar range here, but across the sea. Near a little village. But we lived way up, in a cave.”

Nia is silent. Tobias thinks she might be holding her breath.

“The sky was really clear, up there. It felt like we could reach out and touch the stars at night. Like…like it was just us and them.”

Tobias kind of feels like that now, actually. It’s a strange sensation. Deja vu, in a way. A little painful. A little sweet.

“And if it was ever too cloudy to see them from our cave, my…our parents would take Vivi and I flying. It was…”

The most magical thing he’d ever experienced. Something that makes a deep longing ache in his chest, even now. He hates that the world took that away from him. Won’t let him evolve to fly himself.

Nia’s hand slips free of the blanket to hold his own, her fur almost as warm as him.

Tobias takes a deep breath. “It was one of my favorite things. Vivi’s, too. When we couldn’t sleep, we’d sit at the mouth of the cave and they would teach us about constellations. Sing us stories.”

Nia is silent, hanging onto Tobias’ every word. Tobias closes his eyes. He can almost imagine it, fuzzy but warm. His father’s wing around him and his sister, keeping them sheltered from the chilly mountain breeze. Their mother humming and singing folk tales about the constellations. Tobias’ head bobbing as his eyes slipped closed and sleep washed over him.

“Do you remember any of the stories?” Nia asks.

Does he? He’s kept his memories locked away in the back of his mind for so long that trying to excavate them feels like wading through a sea of cobwebs. His eyes scan the sky, landing on a bright constellation vaguely resembling a head with big, round ears. He points at it with his free hand.

“That’s the teddiursa cub.”

Nia follows his gesture. “Teddiursa?”

“We saved one on our first mission. Uh. Small. Orange fur. Claws.”

“Oh! The cute little teddy bear!”

"Yup. He pairs with the ursaring.”

Nia follows Tobias’ finger as he trails up and to the right, where another collection of stars create the larger, blockier form of an ursaring head.

“Ursaring?”

“It’s what teddiursa evolves into. The story…” What was it again? “The story says that the teddiursa got lost one day. The ursaring was his mother, and she looked for him frantically, for three endless nights.”

Nia makes a sad sound in her throat.

“Desperate, the ursaring prayed to the stars, asking Jirachi to help her find her cub. Jirachi, the wishmaker, heard her and made her a part of the night sky, to be seen by all. The teddiursa saw his mother in the night sky, and wished to join her. Jirachi granted it, and the two have lived together in the sky ever since.”

Nia hums. “We have a similar set of constellations in our world, actually. Ursa Minor and Ursa Major.”

“Really?”

Nia nods, stars reflecting in her eyes. “I don’t remember much about the story associated with it, but…I think it’s sad.” She turns a smile onto Tobias. “I can’t decide if your world’s version is happier or not.”

Tobias blinks. He’d always assumed the story was a happy one, because the mother and child were reunited. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…they’re trapped in the sky, right? Are they happy there?”

Tobias frowns, looking back at the constellations. “…I like to think they are.”

Nia laughs softly. “Look at me, being the pessimist. I like your way of thinking better.”

Tobias makes a vague noise in his throat. They have enough things going wrong with the real world. Why not choose to believe that at least the teddiursa and ursaring got a happy ending?

“Thanks, Tobias. For sharing with me.”

Tobias isn’t sure if she means the story, or his memories, or his spot here, looking at the stars. Maybe all of it. He shrugs, embarrassed. “Who else ‘m I gonna tell? Xander?”

Nia gives him an exasperated, fond look. “I wasn’t kidding earlier. Maybe you can’t see it, but they really do want to be your friend. You guys seemed to be having a lot of fun when we sparred the other day.”

It can’t be that easy to make friends. Not when Tobias has spent the last eight years of his life almost entirely alone. But Nia is better at emotions than he is, so…

“It wouldn’t be…too terrible. Training with them again sometime.”

Nia grins, a teasing glint in her eyes. “Come on. Is it really so bad to have a few friends? You and I are friends, right?”

Tobias scoffs. “Duh. You’re my best friend.”

Nia’s smile drops with surprise, and Tobias tenses. His face burns with heat, and he snaps his gaze out to look over the trees, mortified.

Why did he say that? And so naturally, too. Best friend. What is he, five?

(Then again, it’s kind of obvious, isn’t it?)

Tobias can still feel Nia’s eyes on him, and steals a glance to find her eyes a little shiny, her expression a bit wobbly. “Tobias…”

“We should get some sleep!” Tobias says, too loud as he jumps to his feet. Nia nearly falls over in his haste. He doesn’t offer her a hand up this time, pacing a few steps into the flight floor and willing his stupid nerves to calm down.

He doesn’t hear Nia follow after him, but in a few short seconds she’s at his side again and stepping in front of him. “Tobias?”

He grunts, staring at his feet. At least the night hides how red his face is.

“Hey, I'm...I'm going to try something, okay? Feel free to tell me to stop.”

Tobias looks up, confused.

Nia looks just as embarrassed as he feels, somehow, shuffling in her blanket. But slowly, slow enough for him to stop her, she steps closer to wrap him up in a hug, cheek pressed into his scarf and blanket enveloping them both in warmth.

“I’m really glad you’re the one who found me in that field,” she murmurs. “You’re the best friend I could’ve asked for.”

Tobias feels his throat tighten up. As much as he knows that that’s not true—he’s a pain to be around more often than not—he also believes that she means it. His hands fall to the arms around his torso. His chest feels uncomfortably warm, a completely different sensation than when he uses his flames.

Nia squeezes him once before stepping back, closer to the stairs. She has a shy smile on her face. “C’mon, we should get to bed. One of us needs to be awake for tomorrow’s flight.”

Tobias relaxes, relieved to settle back into their usual banter. He moves to follow her down the stairs, ignoring the heat lingering in his cheeks. “I still don’t get how your two modes for flight are either screaming in terror or passing out.”

“It’s exhausting to be scared out of my mind! And I’m not scared when I’m sleeping.”

“Until you slip off our flight ‘mon and fall into the ocean.”

“You wouldn’t let that happen.”

“I might, if you insist we meet up with Junie in Stonebrook.”

Nia laughs. “C’mon, avoiding her won’t do you any good. You know she’d find us eventually anyways. And if you don’t want to fend her off alone, then you have to keep me alive.”

“Darn. All my plans, foiled.”

Nia laughs. Her tail wags as she talks, the blanket over her shoulders swishing with the motion. Tobias will never admit to finding it adorable. "Hey, do you think we’ll get to see Fliss tomorrow?”

“The braviary? Sure, if she’s around.”

“I hope so,” Nia says, “She was so nice, and she knew a lot! And she didn’t change how she treated us after she found out I was human, either. I wonder if—”

Tobias listens idly as Nia chatters on, the sound of her voice a comforting background noise for the short trip back to their room. Sleep sounds less daunting, after getting to unwind with Nia a bit. He’d been worried that sharing his space, his memories, would feel wrong, but instead it’s the opposite.

He feels…lighter. Ready for the journey ahead, no matter what it may hold.

[kazoosandfannypacks]

sabezra week day 3: what if: what if sabine hadn't gone back to help ahsoka and left with ezra instead?

chapter word count: 1.6K

a/n: this is based on the idea i had a few weeks ago and knew i'd inevitably end up writing. i fully intended to post this as a oneshot, but i've already written a second chapter and have a third in the works as we speak!

taglist: @laughingphoenixleader @accidental-spice @kanerallels @piraterefrigerator @jedi-nurse @sabezraweek @dootchster {if you'd like to be added to or removed from my sabezra taglist, let me know!} Also tagging a few people who were interested in my post about this fic, but just for this first chapter. If you'd like to be tagged on further updates to this fic or added to my sabezra taglist, let me know; I'd love to add you! @mataitos @alphaofdarkness @queenbuttercup @lady-grey-1993 @sassygirl579 @redroverrider @light-umbra @commander-tech

also on ao3!

Chapter 1: Ukor B'ukor

 Sabine and Ezra stood side by side at the edge of the tower on Perida, staring in disbelief at the ever-widening gap between them and the Star Destroyer.

 "I can't make that jump," he shook his head.

 "Yes you can," Sabine nodded. She hadn't come this far to bring Ezra home only to fall short now.

 "I appreciate the confidence…"

 After all the times Ahsoka had told her not to make excuses, Sabine wasn't gonna take any from Ezra. She'd seen him and Kanan do this a hundred times, and there was no reason it wouldn't work this time.

 "No," Sabine took a few steps back, "I push you first, then you pull me across."

 He looked back at her, and she nodded.

 "I can do this," she said.

 He looked back at the ship that was slowly moving further and further away from them.

 "Ezra," Sabine said, "the longer you hesitate, the harder this gets. Come on!"

 Without another word— Ezra was wise enough by now to know there was no use arguing with her— he turned quickly and ran past her, then knelt to the ground for a running start.

 "Ready?" she asked.

 He nodded.

 "Go!"

 She watched him run past her, almost in disbelief that he'd trusted another one of her wild ideas. Though she knew that the leap of faith was probably scarier for Ezra to do than it was for her to watch, she couldn't quite be sure. After all she went through to get him back, it would be a tragedy if now they fell short— no pun intended.

 It wasn't until she could feel the Force pulling on Ezra through her that she realized how weighty this responsibility was: he'd put his life in her hands here. He was counting on her once again, and once again, she wouldn't fail him.

 He hadn't quite landed in the hangar, but he'd gotten a firm grip on the platform below it, and as soon as he'd regained his bearings, he jumped up onto the floor. He was quick to disarm one of the troopers, sending him tumbling off the ledge. Before Ezra could get to the other trooper on the landing, Sabine did, ever at the ready with her blasters.

 Ezra looked back across the way to her.

 "Come on," he called, "your turn!"

 She quickly ran back to get a running start, and saw Ahsoka in the distance, battling the troopers they'd been facing.

 Sabine looked back at Ahsoka, and Ahsoka looked at her, and time froze.

 "I can't leave you here," Sabine thought.

 "Go," Ahsoka nodded, and though it was barely more than a whisper, she could hear it.

 "May the force be with you," Sabine smiled at Ahsoka, but their bond was cut off by the distant cries of her name.

 She nodded, turned, and ran to the edge of the tower. After all this time of Ezra counting on her, it was her turn to count on him.

"Here goes nothing— and everything," she thought, knowing that as soon as she was airborne, the only hope she had of landing on the ship was Ezra. She closed her eyes, threw herself forward, and took the scariest leap of faith of her life.

 For a moment, she felt free, weightless, alive— but it wasn't long before the panic kicked in and she realized there was nothing beneath her, and she was beginning to fall, to drop to the surface of the planet below, cursing that she didn't have her jetpack with her.

 And then she felt a presence all around her, strong, warm, almost like home: the Force, Ezra, pulling her up, bringing her closer to the ship. It all happened so fast: one minute, she was falling to her doom; the next, she was hurtling into Ezra's arms.

 He caught her in his embrace so fast and so hard that she almost sent him tumbling backwards, and her along with him. Instead, they steadied themselves against each other, his hands gripping her shoulders.

 "I've got you," he said, "I've got you."

 She looked up at the relieved smile on his face, and the rich blueness in his eyes, and smiled as well.

 "We made it," she laughed.

 "We did it," Ezra laughed.

 Out of excitement, she wrapped her arms around him, and he did the same, losing themselves for a moment in each other's embrace.

 She'd quickly gotten used to the feeling of his stupid fluffy beard against her cheek, and now she couldn't help realizing again how strong he was now, as his arms tightened around her, and she gripped him tighter as well.

 "We did it," Sabine thought, "I'm bringing him home."

 She could already picture all the reunions to follow. Chopper and Zeb would no doubt be ready with quick remarks to hide how much they'd missed him, though Sabine knew full well the stockpile of helmets Zeb had tucked away for Ezra in their old room in The Ghost. She also anticipated how all the caution and regret that'd followed Hera these last few years would quickly melt away as she'd welcome her lost son home.

 And, of course, a few special first meetings were in order as well. Jacen almost thought Ezra was the stuff of legends by now, but to get to meet him, maybe even learn a thing or two from him— it would be good for them both. And, of course, Sabine was ready for the teasing when Ezra found out she'd adopted a Loth Cat, though she wasn't quite ready yet for Ezra's reaction to Murley's nickname, Cyare Kaysh Mirsh Solus, being partly because of how much he reminded her of Ezra— and especially after Ezra found out what those words mean in Mando'a.

 But for now, she was glad that the only catching up to do was still just her and Ezra. After a decade of "what if" and "why" and "how," she'd finally found certainty. No more wondering if she could've stopped him. No more kicking herself in the foot for words she'd never said. No more lying awake at night thinking she was foolish for even hoping he'd survived. 

 Now all of her hopes proved real, because here he was— in her arms— with the same smile and the scars on his cheek and those eyes that were a shade of blue no painting could replicate.

 "We're going home," Ezra said, as if knowing exactly what she was thinking, "I always knew I could count on you."

 She watched his face fall, though, as he turned away from her and back toward the tower, and she followed his concerned gaze to see Ahsoka, still in battle, alone and surrounded.

 "I should've gone back for her," Sabine said, taking a step away from Ezra, "I should've stayed…."

 "Sabine, no," Ezra said, grabbing her by the arms, "our path is different from hers. Ahsoka knew what choice she was making, and she knew it would give us time to escape."

 "But I should be down there with her," Sabine said.

 "Your path doesn't lie on Perida," Ezra's tone lowered as his eyes caught hers, "and I didn't spend ten years waiting for you just to leave without you."

 She shook her head and smiled, then deflected whatever feelings her smile would betray by looking away, back at Ahsoka.

 Together they watched as the enemies overtook Ahsoka, surrounded her on all sides. Almost as if by instinct, Sabine stepped closer to Ezra, and he wrapped an arm around her for comfort, bringing her head to rest on his shoulder. 

 As the troopers closed in on the fallen Ahsoka, then held their ground, Morgan stood over her, as if ready to strike the final blow. Ahsoka responded with the unexpected: she knocked her off her feet with a force push, and with the same motion swirled her lightsaber around herself completely, carving a hole in the floor beneath her and sending herself down into it.

 Sabine and Ezra leaned closer to the ledge, trying to see what happened as the Star Destroyer pulled farther and farther away. Several troopers rained down barrages of blasterfire into the hole, but to no avail. Lower in the side of the tower the wall burst open, as if weakened by lightsaber and then broken through— which is exactly what happened, Sabine reasoned, as Ahsoka jumped through it. At the same moment, a ship pulled around the tower— Huyang must've gotten that old rustbucket working— and caught Ahsoka as she jumped, landing her safely in the open hatch on top.

 "She's gonna be fine," Sabine laughed.

 "She always is," Ezra said.

 The ship flew over their heads, above the Star Destroyer.

 "She's landing on top of us" Sabine said, looking up, "close enough that tracking beacons won't pick up on the ship. She'll lie low until she can get out of here, and meet us back on Lothal."

 "How do you even know that?" Ezra asked.

 "I think I can feel it," Sabine said, "it must be a Force thing."

 Ezra laughed, "careful there, Mandalorian. You're starting to sound like a Jedi."

 "I wouldn't say that yet," Sabine said, "I still have a lot to figure out."

 "Me too," Ezra said, "not just about the Force, but everything else too. So much has changed…"

 "We'll figure it out together," Sabine said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

 "We always did make quite a team," Ezra said.

 Sabine looked up at him with a smile, which only widened in response to Ezra's smile, and the knowing but still questioning look in his eyes.

 One last time before they had to find a place to hide, Sabine found her way into Ezra's embrace as they pulled each other in for another hug. 

[nerdieforpedro]

A Walk with your Pilot

Security Log Drabbles part of the Secret Springs Shenanigans

My entire masterlist and blog are for readers 18+ MDNI. I do not consent to my work being used in AI, recommended on TikTok, borrowed or plagiarized.

Summary: It’s been slow for security, until a silent partner makes her presence known and a new Marcus is discovered. Chloe tried to apologize to Frankie.

Warnings: possible kidnapping, allusions to smut, banana 🍌, Frankie being a sweetheart, Ezra being a scoundrel but also that money 💰

Word Count: 1k+ (an actual Drabble!)

Notes: I made liberal use of @pedropascalito ‘s wonderful Ezra Moodboard. Ezra is a scoundrel in this one, but in their Moodboard he’s a sweetheart. The counter is totally legit, this version of Ezra is Nerdie aka NP’s fault. 👀

Main Masterlist/ Frankie Morales Masterlist

My security logs have been scant…not for lack of reporting. Everyone is well behaved, enjoying themselves. It’s very good, meaning less work for all of us, though I have a few concerns.

Our silent business partner, let’s call her NP. She apparently was at the Secret Springs without giving me or Dave a heads up, she also took a third Marcus who came down from one of the surrounding mountain ranges (that is a mystery on its own) for an interrogation and neither of them have been seen for the last few days. Then suddenly this morning, the third Marcus is sipping orange juice with the Mayor and the other two Marcus’s. Dave and I were perplexed and the only message we got from NP was:

He’s solid. He’s firm. He responded appropriately. He’s got quite an appetite. I handed him over to the Mayor in good condition.

I’m not an idiot, but I’m also pretty sure that kind of questioning (if you can even call it that) is entirely illegal. Roman Marcus doesn’t appear to have any complaints and says a real man shows you better than he tells you. I did not need to hear those words while he’s eating a banana shirtless but I’ll tell him I will keep that in mind. Mayor El says happy for all of our through work. I can only nod and take the compliment. It’s only been a week here.

Speaking of, I took Frankie to lunch to apologize for trying to go through his belongings and passing out drunk in his room. Neither were my best moments. I try to explain that I am a sane person, but the quizzical look he gives me informs me otherwise.

“Most people would try to be nice to the guy flying them halfway across the world. Or at least be more discreet about it. Are you sure this is the job for you querida (sweetheart)?”

“That’s why I’m taking you to lunch to apologize. That’s nice and I am excellent at my job! You’re the problem, I’ve been off kilter trying to-“ He’s sitting across from with his arms crossed, a slight lean and his lips curling into a grin. I feel like calling him a jerk, but he’s just being himself I assume. I can’t fault him for that. “Never mind. Just, see you around Frankie.” Retreat is always a viable option and one which I plan to use as I get up from the table. He grabs the hem of my white blouse, it’s lose and my yellow bathing suit is sticking out of the top near my neck.

“Hold on there Chloe, how about we go for a walk? You can do some more rounds and we can talk. Ask me anything you want to know.” His suggestion is a good one, but I should stay focused. But also maybe be a little selfish on my part. I agree and we begin our stroll.

I soon forget how nervous Frankie made me originally. He explains that he settled in Florida after serving with the Special Forces during his time in the military. One of his brothers in arms recommended this gig to not only make some extra money but for him to get away from usual business back home. Morales said that it was nice not having to worry about gators at all.

We passed by Ezra’s Beach Shop and I said hello. That usually leads to at least a five minute description from the owner about everything that could have happened this morning. Today’s answer was not a ramble but succinct, curious, I asked him if anything was the matter and he replied there was not. Suddenly, two women pop up from under the counter which he was seated behind. One bumped her head and both stared at Frankie and I. They each kissed Ezra’s cheek and left him some money on the counter, carrying a small plastic bag each with them. About twenty dollars from each woman.

“Should I even ask if that’s the stuff you keep under the counter that they just paid for in addition to the small items they have?”

Ezra scratches the exposed part of his chest above where his tank top scoops down. He’s never not sweaty, to be fair it is hot. He stands and thankfully his dark green trunks are not disheveled. He gathers the money with his one hand and plops it in a lock box he has next the small register. “The ladies were sought out some shelter from the blistering sun and I did not have ample room under my umbrella. I did advise against going under the counter but that is what they chose.” He presses his palm on the counter and snickers, “As to why they left me such a large tip, I cannot say. You’re well acquainted with my gift of gab, they also could have taken pity on an unfortunate man such as myself.” His explanation is hot air, but he adds a wiggle of his right residual limb to add to his point.

I know there’s no merit in arguing with him, whatever happened, I didn’t see it directly. “Keep your tips to the monetary kind Ezra. I’ll be back.”

“And I will look forward to it my dear straight laced Chloe. Enjoy your time with your gentleman here. Maybe he’ll introduce you to a tip.” Ezra ends as we walk away.

Frankie looks back and the shopkeeper waves goodbye. “Seems pretty cheap for your tip there. Maybe they didn’t get enough bang for their buck.” His snicker makes me lean on the nearest tree in laughter while I hear Ezra click his tongue in annoyance.

I like Frankie even more, he managed to get the last word in on Ezra.

Those who may adopt the M.O.P method: @maggiemayhemnj @goodwithcheese @secretelephanttattoo @undercoverpena @megamindsecretlair

@fhatbhabiee @tinytinymenace @morallyinept @readingiskeepingmegoing @survivingandenduring

@inept-the-magnificent @604to647

Ending day seven log:

Violence - None

Public intoxication - None

Public Nudity - None (still suspicious of what goes on under that counter)

Destruction of Property - None

Injuries: Minor = possibly 10+ (I only saw Roman Marcus’ upper body. It was a mix of old and new marks. I’ll have to reach out to NP later)

Chlóe’s well-being: On the mend. Turns out lunch and walks are solid remedies

Security Log One. Security Log Three

[base-and-co]

Hera = mom

well, ao3's broken for me, so here I am posting my Rebels shit 'cause of the latest Ahsoka episode.

WE GOT OUR BOY (i was going to have here that one GIF from goblet of fire but couldn't find it. well.)

here's those ideal circumstances we will never have in series but always have in our heads. enjoy reunion of Hera and her eldest son.

He could feel his anticipation like it was coursing through his veins instead of blood. It burned inside of him, as if it was a small sun, fit into his chest and his very eyes shined brighter with this glow of unpatiened happiness.

It was selfish of him, of course. He felt so much, that every jedi of old would call him a failure.

Well, Kanan would be proud.

Ezra was standing in the cockpit of Ahsoka's ship, glued into place, as he watched familiar views move beside them. Even stars, so different there, looked like they glimmered welcoming him home. Ezra could feel tears forming somewhere in his eyes, air stuck in his throat.

This pure, overwhelming happiness, in which he was caught up for a short moment, Ezra knew was soon to fade. But Sabine's eyes, watching him closely, her smile, told him it was alright to be a happy dumbass for a moment. Even, maybe, for a while. She was there to support him, as she always did.

Ahsoka was speaking, giving the codes and securing their landing, but Ezra could not find himself composed enough to listen. It was like he was a kid again - not that man he grew up to be in Rebellion, and all those lonely years on the witches' planet, but a small child on Lothal, who was just given the best gift any child could wish for.

"Ahsoka? Are you there?"

Ezra's eyes darted to the communication device and his breath would be caught if only he had been breathing for the last minute.

"Greetings, General Syndulla," smiled Ahsoka, squinting on her companions. "I think it is for the best if you meet us in the angars."

"Ezra", Ezra started, hearing Sabine's quiet whisper. "Breathe."

Ezra nodded, a bit frantically, and took a deep breath. Sabine took one with him, very obvious so he could see it. Ezra huffed a little laugh and Ahsoka smiled, looking at them.

"I brought your kids."

***

Ezra was feeling like he was about to burst. Sabine was hovering around him, never too far, like she was afraid to let him go of her eyesight, but would never admit it. He could understand that - he was doing the same, up until this one moment, where everything around demanded his attention, otherwise it would be gone. Ezra was being torn apart by the very world around him, he wanted to go and hug every one person who looked vaguely familiar, he wanted to go and touch every ship that had any resemblance to the coridors he saw in his dreams for the last decade. It was all so unreal, and he needed to see, to feel every thing, to prove himself that it wasn't his optimistic hope that was keeping him alive for all those years.

Ezra took another breath, when Sabine moved closer, lightly brushing his hand with her fingers to catch his attention. He looked at her, still overwhelmed. Sabine watched his eyes closely and smiled again.

"Ready?"

Ezra smiled.

"Always has been."

Ahsoka walked out first, Sabine after her, but Ezra hesitated a bit. He needed to make this step - one step and it all is real. Not one of his dreams, composed of Force and imagination, but firm and steady reality.

"Here we go..." he whispered under his breath, taking a step towards Sabine, who was waiting for him on the ramp.

"Need a hand?" she smiled, watching him walk, and Ezra huffed a laugh back.

"Nah, pretty sure my legs're fine." His voice was a bit off, however. Because there, a handful meters away, stood another ship. Big and old, somewhere renewed, somewhere still chipping paint like it was on repair after a bit too harsh flight. VCX-100 light freighter it was - modified, of course, painted differently, and Ezra knew for a fact that if it needed to go anywhere undetected it would.

"Ghost," he breathed out, moving towards it, enchanted. Sabine followed him, still smiling.

"It had a few new modification since you were gone," she said quietly, watching as his fingers brush against painted metal. Ezra stood there, embracing the feeling of cold surface causing light vibration of memory in his very being.

"I feel like it hasn't changed a bit," he muttered in awe, turning to Sabine. She laughed quietly, letting him have this moment.

"Oh trust me, it has." she smiled. "You can ask-"

"SABINE!"

They both turned their heads sharply on the sound of the voice, and Sabine cringed a bit, like a kid who was caught by their parent.

"Hey, Hera..." she waved, walking into the light from the Ghost's shadow in which they stood.

Ezra once again forgot how to breathe. It was becoming a bad habit he had to deal with later, but at that moment he stood under the familiar hull of Ghost, and it felt like ship was welcoming him too, covering him, like a big animal. And Ezra stood there, watching with his widely opened eyes, as familiar figure, half-relieved, half-furious, was fastly walking towards Sabine.

"You are in such big trouble, young lady!" Hera's voice echoed in his ears, bringing back so many memories they threatened to drown him. However, Hera brought Sabine close, hugging her hard before continuing her rant. Sabine used this chance to look back at Ezra and call him over with a nod.

Ezra felt like Ghost let him walk from under it, as if it had a wing under which it hid this boy, who once lived there. Moving to light felt like he was crossing some invisible line, that was keeping him alone for last ten years, and he finally wasn't.

He didn't know what to say, when Hera turned around and saw him, freezing in place with her mouth agape. So he just smiled at her.

She was eyeing him, head to toe, before finally moving closer and putting her hands on his shoulders first, then his cheek. He leaned into the sensation, as a kid who came home after cold winter walk.

"Ezra..." Hera breathed out. "It's you, it's... It's really you..."

She touched his hair, his scar, his clothes, and he could only smile.

"Hi, Hera."

In his mind this word had no other meaning - it was that person, who cared about him, who would protect him from anything, who loved him even when he was the most annoying rascal you could find on the Outer Rim. It was "Hera". It was so close to "mother".

Her lips and lashes were quivering, her fingers grip his shoulders. She looked up at him - was he taller than her? he forgot. - and let out a watery laugh.

"You smell horrible."

"I know," he laughed back, shrugging. "Ten years of surviving in different galaxy do that to people."

She shook her head lightly before pulling him in a tight hug.

"I'm sorry, Ezra, I'm so sorry..." she muttered, petting his hair. He only shook his head in turn, before answering.

"It's okay. It wasn't you, who made me go there," he let out a quiet laugh. "I'm so happy so see you. I missed you so much."

She pulled back a bit, blinking her tears away and looked at him once more.

"You grew up so much," Hera whispered and her voice sounded strangled. "We all missed you, Ezra, you don't even know. And I'm so proud of you, my boy, I'm so happy to have you back."

He laughed again, like it was all he could do - relief was shining in him, making him want to laugh like it was the end of the world. And then he would inevitably cry. So when he felt tears escape his eyes, he was not surprised. Before he could wipe them away, Hera raised her palm, put it on his scarred cheek and wiped them with her thumb.

"Welcome home, Ezra..."

He smiled again, before letting Hera pull him into another hug.

[boopshoops]

🥣

🥰

🏘️

For Jojo, Shishi, and Ezzie (The Twst OCs ;w;) for the OC Ask meme)

Similarly to the last post!! This is color coded: me/narrator as default, blue as Jocia, and green as Ezra

🥣what's your favorite food?

"So this is some sort of interview? Alright then," Jocia gruffly responded, slouching over in her seat upon realizing the question was actually rather simple. She grinned, "Bulgogi's a fav. It's something my sister showed me when we were kids. Apparently she was trying to learn more about our family history or somethin', did a damn lot of research too."

"It's not something I looked much into myself, but I'm a complete sucker for anything barbecued or grilled. I think... Oh yeah, we tried it out on a camping trip. I stole some of hers off her plate," Jocia chuckled, scratching at the back of her head as she reminisced, "I gave her hell during that trip. Wouldn't be surprised if that's why we never did something like that again. Made it up to her later, though."

-

"Ooh! How fun!" The professor exclaimed with a sharp-toothed grin, "Let's see, should I go into detail? I don't see why not. You're supposedly looking into learning more about me after all, little sprout," He cheerfully pondered aloud, politely folding his hands in his lap.

"My favorite dish is Pasta Alla Gricia. It's absolutely divine. With most of the foods I like, they've unfortunately been changing and shifting in ways I'm simply not a fan of with the passage of time. BUT! With this? It's only gotten better since the first time I tried it one hundred years ago! I'll gladly buy you some sometime, little sapling. Oh! Perhaps I can get some for the whole class... Like a day of celebration after one of our competitions! It's important for student's to destress, after all!~" Ezra hummed to himself with a firm nod.

🥰do you think you're attractive?

"Uh..." The woman droned on, crossing her arms over her chest. She offered a casual nod after perusing her own thoughts, "Like, physically? Sure, yeah," She bluntly answered.

"It's not really something I've thought too much of before. I guess looking in the mirror and seeing how far I've come gives me something to be proud of. Especially since I'm... not the best at styling. Everyone else in the family got all that."

"But, hell, I've worked hard on myself. Even if working out and such is more of a chill hobby of mine, I'm still confident in how I'm built. Not to mention I can see little parts of the people around me in myself too, yeah? Like- an old friend of mine regularly helps me dye my hair, and I got my piercings at the same time as my brother. If I didn't like those parts of myself, it feels kinda like a dig on them too. No matter whatcha think anyway, there are gonna be people out there who think you're pretty sick."

"...Eh, I'm not good at getting all sappy."

-

Ezra blinked, his drawing his lips into a line. His brows furrowed, "This is a difficult question to be modest about, isn't it?" He awkwardly chuckled, bringing a hand up to massage his temple.

"Oh, I don't know. I have a lot of things I have to work on, truly. It's quite an ordeal. Not that I'm not proud of my appearance! After all, a lot of it was greatly inspired by my late father."

"...Ah! I forgot to mention- I'm a changeling fae, of course. I'm not the biggest fan of shapeshifting, however, so I try my best to correlate my appearance to my adoptive human family. In that way, I suppose topics such as 'attractiveness' are a bit more complicated to someone like me, dear," He finished, dodging and weaving around the actual question through his rambles.

🏘️where's your happy place?

Jocia brightened up a bit at this, smirking as the answer came easily, "With my siblings," she replied briefly.

"They're fun as hell to be around. We got each other's backs. They're a bunch of little shits sometimes, but we know each other better than anyone else," She paused, "At least... most of us. More of a reason for me to get home, as if I didn't need any more of one already."

-

"My classroom, of course! Oh, it's so fun!" The teacher excitedly replied, eccentrically taking the time to pop up out of his seat and lean over the table, "It's where I spend most of my time! Working with students in bloom, watching their talents grow, listening to my favorite stars sing broadway, tending to my adorable potted plants..." He babbled on endlessly, happily explaining to no end.

"...I haven't been here for very long, that is true, but it has very quickly become my favorite place to be. So much so I often get caught up in things and forget to attend meetings. I suppose me and the other fae individuals here have that in common... I'm working on that, however! Got to make sure my memory is in top condition!"

"Is that it? 'Kay. Be seeing ya."

-

"This was very pleasant! Thank you kindly for inviting me."

Ask Game!

Yuu Shi's responses are here

[sprout-gt]

random blurb :p

i've had a story idea knocking around in my brain, and decided to write a short part of it. so... here's a teaser i guess?

── •✧• ──

“What did you do?” Myth’s accusatory tone was cut with panic as he grasped tightly at Ezra’s shoulders. His knit brows revealed that he had as many answers as Ezra did. So much for asking an expert. 

“Me? You think I did this?” Ezra bit back in retort, pushing forcefully away from the other man. The fogginess was beginning to lift, leaving behind it confused anger at the accusation and more than a little panic. He decided to listen to the anger.  

“Right now, I don’t know what to think except that we're at eye level. And that is more than enough cause for a little alarm. I don’t- I really don’t know what I am supposed to do in this situation.” 

“I’m not exactly-” Ezra was about to spit out some clever retort, but a sudden deafening creak interrupted his words. The sound was so loud, and made Ezra’s heart rate instantly spike. Hard raps against the door that echoed out. Knocking, before the distinct click of the handle turning. 

“What-” Ezra was about to ask what was happening when in an instant, a hand clamped against his mouth with iron determination and he was being pulled forcefully into the space beneath his dresser. His back was pressed flush against Myth’s torso, he could probably feel how hard his heart was pounding. 

“Quiet,” Myth hissed against his ear, shrinking further into the shadow beneath the dresser. He said nothing more, his grip firm in holding Ezra in place. 

A slight creak betrayed the door opening. 

Another sound. Footfalls. Ezra choked back a gasp, heading the other man’s instruction. 

“Ez?” A voice, like raptious thunder, called out. The floorboards with footsteps that lead the man closer to their hiding space. From his vantage point, a beat up converse stepped into view, followed by another. Ezra felt like he could faint against Myth having to confront how much just his roommates shoes now outsized him. At this size, he could see extremely fine details, like the scuffs on the rubber or the stitches that have loosened.  

He felt sick. One moment passed, another. The silence was overwhelming. The rational part of Ezra’s mind knew that Pierce had no reason whatsoever to look under the dresser, but that part of his brain had been quickly overtaken by panicked animal instinct telling him to break Myth’s grip and run in any direction as far as he could. 

Relief flooded him when finally, his roommate turned on his heel and walked out of his room, although he didn’t hear the door close behind him. 

After another moment, Myth finally released him. He looked extremely unaffected, but Ezra felt like his nerves were on fire. It took a solid few minutes to get his breathing under control and his heart to stop pounding, all while Myth gazed at him with his arms crossed and an unreadable expression. 

“You done?” Myth asked, raising a brow in a way Ezra was interpreting as scrutiny. 

“Just about, yeah.” Ezra felt off kilter, still buzzing from the adrenaline but also slightly embarrassed at the implication of the question. 

“Good, because we have to get going.” Myth said, adjusting the strap of his scraped-together satchel. 

“Going… where?” Ezra hated how timid he sounded and anxious he still felt. The glower that Myth wasn’t trying all too hard to hide wasn’t helping either. 

“The walls,” Myth said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “Also I’m getting you out of the open so that you don’t go exposing us by standing around. Come on.” 

With that, Myth turned and nodded his head to the side beckoning Ezra to follow him. With a frustrated huff, Ezra had no choice but follow the man deeper into the shadows of his apartment.

[yandere-flower]

Which of your yanderes are likely to give darling a good ole back hand if they step out of line?

Would any of them never raise a hand to their darling?

honestly...most of them probably could...

Desmond is a practical guy, he'll feel a tinge of guilt about it but ultimately a little pain prevents a lot of pain in the future. If god forbid you escaped somehow, you could get so injured or taken by some one worse than him. The ends justify the means for him.

Sawyer could but he'd really hate himself for it. He'd never think about it and do it, its more rash, more sudden. Maybe you're fighting and things are escalating and he panics, his job is very violent as his actions work faster than his mind. He freezes of course, and instantly starts begging you to forgive him, but he still wouldn't let you go.

Zara absolutely would give a slap whenever she's angry or pissed at you. She won't feel bad about it, maybe if you pout for a bit she'll buy you something you like, but she won't admit even to herself what she's feeling.

Ezra would never, he couldn't. He could barely restrain darling, let alone willing hurt them.

Mizu is eh. I think he'd consider trying, but he'd chicken out or would do a shove instead of a hit.

Margo and Olive wouldn't hit, very similar to Mizu where it's just not something they really see themselves doing. Unlike Mizu, I don't think these two would even entertain the idea.

Antonio would, but seldom. A last resort "enough" kind of thing where he pretends it didn't happen, he gushes over you and whispers such kind words. He won't ever talk about it, won't ever admit he did, you have to wonder if he genuinely blocked it out of his mind.

Cliff would, and he wouldn't really feel bad. He's making sure you stay in line and a firm hand by an authority figure is what is needed some times. He talks to you really condescendingly to, and will bring it up as a threat if you start to act up again.

[magpie-to-the-morning]

These are just my very random headcanons I have for him (Ezra is my all time 2nd favorite Pedro boy).

Despite his abilities and capabilities, Ezra is actually very soft for the right person and the right situation. I don't believe he resorts to violence unless absolutely necessary, or vengeance for a loved one.

But I also think this softness goes beyond that when he's with his s/o. He's more sensitive, more vulnerable, more open with them. Being this vulnerable both thrills and terrifies him. Because when Ezra falls in love, it consumes his whole being. He belongs to them, wholeheartedly and completely. They can make him or break him within a second.

NSFW, despite being filthy in the bedroom, Ezra still has his limits that won't do with his s/o. And that's anything that'll hurt or degrade them.

Because Ezra keeps a firm line between his romantic and the violence he's been forced to commit. He never wants them exposed to that side of life, to that side of him and is very much protective over their emotional well-being as much as their physical.

But it also stems from Ezra's deep rooted fear of his s/o seeing that side of him and drawing away, of being afraid of him. That's a pain that Ezra is sure would kill him. To see fear in their eyes when they look into his deep brown orbs.

Ezra has a voice kink, and if his s/o does as well, he absolutely uses that to his full advantage. Telling them how good they're taking him, how amazing they feel, how much he just wants to drown within their depths and die a happy man doing so....

Has used his usual poetic speaking to see just how many times he can make them cum from the mere sound of his voice as deep in their ear as he is inside if them. Not moving, not touching them, just speaking sinfully in his beautiful southern rasp.

Ezra loves putting his hand around their neck. He'll never squeeze, just gently hold them.

That's a good start I think 🙈

A good start inDEED!

Also, Ezra being one of those people who falls so hard, oof. 🥹 And the voice kink? *swoons*

I love the phrase "all-time second fav" so much 😂 Who is your FIRST all time fav, and do you have any HCs about them you'd like to share? 👀

[amandacanwrite]

Solar Return ☽ The Hallowed Wilds ☾ Chapter Five

POV ;; Aurelia ☽ 10 y.o.

Summary ;; Aurelia and Ezra Celebrate their shared birthday together.

Warnings ;; N/a

Author Note ;; As usual, if you enjoy this, reblogs, comments and shares do a lot to get more eyes on my work. If you want to join the tag list, sign ups are at the bottom! Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Ezra and I continued to meet.

I started to recognize an Ezra day as soon as I opened my eyes to the morning sunlight. The Wilds spoke to me in a particular way on Ezra days. It was different from the other days. Every visit brought with it new discoveries, new adventures—it was impossible not to feel a special excitement when I awoke with the promises of those days.

There was the time he introduced me to the Fiddle and played what he called a jig. He’d taught me some dances that the villagers did when they were celebrating a holiday or someone’s birthday. They were so much fun and so different from the dances we did in the coven.

Ritual dances were smooth and writhing like snakes or salamanders. They were old—primordial and reverent. Sometimes even scary.

The dances in the village were about laughter—all jumping and spinning.

Ezra had shown me how to hook arms with him and spin around each other, we wound up falling in the mud laughing by the end of it.

I couldn’t get enough of it, couldn’t get enough of him.

As magical and wonderful as The Wilds were, the village seemed so much more alive than the forest. The irony of that wasn’t lost on me—a forest that never died felt more lifeless than a village draped in ice and snow. Still, it’s what I felt.

Some days when I was missing my friend, I would just sit at the edge of the forest and stare across The Golden River to the village, wishing I would see his little capped head bobbing through the grasses. I learned what it meant to want something when I had spent my whole life having every need met.

Truthfully, I’d learned what wanting at all felt like.

In the coven, we weren’t taught to experience desires. There was only what should be done and then doing it. We only ever learned to listen to our intuition and follow it. It was lucky that our intuition often led us to things that brought us joy.

Wanting was a new kind of experience. It was simultaneously wonderful and aching, tender and wistful. I spent some part of every day thinking about him, even when I tried to tell myself not to.

When he did come to see me I always made a point to show Ezra more and more of the magic of the forests. I think it was because I wanted him to miss The Wilds so much that he would come back and see me more often.

We visited the pond I’d floated in when I was feeling uncertain, and he was amazed when a cut on his finger healed after he’d swam in it. I spent hours that day talking to him about all of the healing places in the forest, all of the plants that could scare away fever and faedeath alike.

His eagerness to learn always filled me with so much happiness. To have him love my home so much was a treasure I kept tucked away in the secret compartments of my heart for the days I didn’t see him.

One day I took him to a tiny cave that was entirely lit by glowing plants and fireflies. I think that had been his favorite. I had coaxed the fireflies to land in our hair like crowns of starlight and he’d laughed and danced with me.

He taught me how to play pretend that day. My sisters were always so firm in following what was real and true. No one ever lied, no one played—not in the way that Ezra knew how to play. He told me to be a princess and he would be my knight.

I didn’t know what any of those things were, so he promised to bring me a book to show me. I couldn’t wait to learn more about the strange deafened world beyond the borders of my home.

The nights after spending the day with him, I would lie awake in my bed and think of him. I would think of his precious freckles and his wood-colored hair. I would think about his laugh, all trilling and bright like the sound of birdsong. Sometimes I would think of the rough texture of his fingers while I brushed my hand over the hat he’d left with me. Fair and square, he’d said that day. I waned to ask what that meant.

Yes—I’d learned what it was like to want, to miss a person. And even though it hurt, I was happy to experience something so wonderful as a friendship that felt so important and rare. My fear and guilt about my friend ebbed. How could I feel badly about something so blessed by Mother Eterna?

Months passed.

Sometimes I would see Ezra almost every day—sometimes a fortnight would pass without him. I always knew he would come back though, even though the missing made me cry sometimes.

The hurt of his absence was a welcome price for the joy of getting to know him.

Finally, it was the day before our solar return—our birthday. The Vernal Equinox was very important in the coven. It was a day that linked every one of us from the green maidens to the wizened crones. There was always so much to do, so much to prepare for. But, I’d woken up the morning of the nineteenth and known right away that it would be an Ezra day.

I made up some task to do.

I knew that the forest wanted me to go to the clover fields, I woke up with a vision of them in my mind—that would do. I could collect clovers for Mother Eterna and show Ezra the myriad of different clover plants I was sure he hadn’t seen.

It took me longer than I would have liked—I had to help set up the altar with my sisters and then help my sister Ophelia paint the circle on the ceremonial stones with the proper sigils, but I did manage to get away in the early afternoon.

The clover fields were deep in the forest, so I made my way to the River of Rye to meet Ezra.

Along the way, I found something that I’d never seen in the forest before.

I knew every inch of these forests. That’s what happened when you wandered them every day, but for the first time in my life there was something new. Not just a wilted flower or an animal that had died peacefully—a true change.

It was like a corridor had been created by trees curving toward each other and from the boughs of those trees drooped hundreds and hundreds of violet wisteria flowers, their vines crisscrossing and tangling across the floor of the forest like a pathway—like the streets in the village Ezra had told me about.

I took my first few steps onto that latticework of vines and felt the magic in them immediately. Protection magic, glamours hiding them from eyes that hadn’t earned them.

I followed the pathway for what felt like a long time and as I walked deeper and deeper into that grove of purple and white and pink I heard the rhythmic rapping of something. A woodpecker, I thought; or maybe a little rodent trying to open an acorn. But when I stepped through the draping, blue branches of a willow tree, I found I was mistaken.

There was Ezra, using some tool—a hammer I think he’d called it—to nail a worn piece of lumber to a structure.

It looked like a tiny house.

“Ezra,” I breathed.

He whirled around to see me, startled after my quiet approach.

“Heavens, Aurelia—I about threw this thing at your head,” he said wiping sweat off his brow.

I was too entranced by the structure standing behind him to feel bad about scaring him. I seemed to scare him most days anyway, he ought to be used to it by now.

“What is this?” I asked.

“A birthday present—” he panted. “For both of us. I built it over the last few months with left over wood from Pa’s work and old branches I found on the ground. I uh—I promise I didn’t cut anything down or hurt anything.”

Ezra and I had spent a lot of time talking about how The Deafened stole what wasn’t theirs to take. My heart felt unbearably heavy and warm in my chest.

The thing he’d built wasn’t too big—maybe about half the size of my hut in the clearing—but it was just…perfect. The motley assortment of reclaimed wood, the way that the vines and grasses crept up on the edges of the walls, the way that it nestled just so near an old willow whose branches swayed and whispered like an old friend.

“I love it,” I told him as I spun around in the little alcove, taking it all in. “I can’t believe you built it all by yourself.”

“My Pa is a carpenter—I help him with this and that around our house…it’s not as good as his stuff but…I think it will do for a while, ‘til I can learn more.” He blushed and looked away from me and my awestruck expression. “D-Do you wanna go look inside?”

“Of course I do!!” I exclaimed.

He beamed at me, it was impossible not to smile back. I followed him into the small hut.

It was sturdy enough with mis-matched wooden planks set into the ground as a foundation. The doorway was left open like the huts in the clearing, and each of the other three walls had a gap in the wooden planks left to act as windows. The roof was constructed of found lengths of wood, mostly cracked branches, tied together with rope and thatched with leaves. The coverage was imperfect, but I liked it. The sunlight speckled the floor like it was shining through tree branches.I supposed it was between the willow outside and the thatched roof.

Ezra rubbed his neck as I looked around.

“Honestly—it’s pretty bad, I wanted to work on it a little while longer before I showed it to you.”

“Ezra, it’s perfect,” I breathed, smiling at him.

“It’s really not—I wanted it to look like one of the houses in the village—”

“No, this is perfect!” I insisted. “It’s like us, a little bit of The Wilds and a little bit of the village. And look.” I went to one of the walls and jostled it—it didn’t budge an inch. “It’s safe and sturdy too.”

Ezra’s expression tightened in humble pride. He nodded.

“I’ll keep improving it as I learn new things from Pa.”

“And I’ll work on making it comfortable for us,” I offered, “Now we’ll always have a place to meet. It’s perfect,” I repeated.

I looked at him, meeting his gaze. The golden thread pulled taut between us, and my heart panged with some new emotion. Something like I felt for my sisters but somehow more. Somehow warmer, brighter and more achingly desperate. I needed to express it somehow. Words or gifts or…

Striding over to him, I pulled him into a tight embrace, arms wrapping about his middle and squeezing. I nuzzled into him and inhaled the smell of him, hearthfire and tobacco.

His arms went up and hovered in the air for a moment, but soon rested about me, reciprocating the squeeze. He’d gotten taller, I hadn’t noticed it until then. His cheek pressed to my forehead.

It felt like we were built to hold each other.

“Happy birthday, Aura,” he whispered.

I smiled into him, treasuring the sound of his shortened name for me. “Happy birthday, Ezra.”

☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾

Join the Taglist Here.

@eldritchx

[imthefailedartist]

You People; Great cast, no commitment.

If you're going to do social commentary, do social commentary. If you're going to do romance, do romance. Social commentary is hard to get right and I don't think it's one of those things that will ever be done right, but that doesn't mean it can't be good. This movie never fully commits and that makes it grating.

Ezra is a white man who considers himself a voice on BLACK culture. Eddie Murphy and Kim are the only people to call him out on it. Ezra never has an answer. Also, he only has one black friend. I get they're all Jewish. It makes sense, but you are supposedly so engrossed in black culture, yet you only have one black friend? Also, he's never dated a black woman. Like ever? I don't know about you but that makes my negro senses tingle. It's feeling very Drake, constantly saying he loves black women yet has never been seen dating one and having a white baby momma. His connection to the culture is finicky. He grew up affluent in white Jewish suburbs, with all white friends, you work in a mostly white finance firm what the fuck is your connection to the culture? Hip hop raised you? I think the fuck not. In what world are your suburban white parents listening to hip hop or freely allowing him to listen? You like hip hop, a lot, that is enough.

Eddie Murphy is right!

This is why social commentary never works, especially if you're combining it with something else. One area will always fall short and in You People's case, it's both.

I'm supposed to believe that Amira and Ezra's love is stronger than their parents butting heads and prejudices. Amira looks like she doesn't want Ezra to even touch her. This cannot be the love for which Loving v. Virginia was fought.

Where is the CHEMISTRY! Where has it gone? Stop casting because someone has lots of Instagram followers cast the people who are going to give you chemistry on screen. They do not kiss in this movie. Not once. It is jarring.

I like Lauren London, but be fucking for real. She is not the actress you cast for a romantic comedy or any part where she has to give a performance beyond bougie hood girl. She doesn't have the range. Even when she's doing scenes with other characters it feels like she doesn't want to be there and that everybody was someone else. This movie needed an actress who could come back at Hill joke for joke but also handle the seriousness.

There is a world in which this works, but I don't think Kenya Barris is the one to do it.

What a waste of Nia Long and David Duchovny.

[kizhavvorsa]

❝ You once said you loved me. Do you still? ❞ HERE HAVE SOME FEELS ITS BEEN A WHILE

SUPER SHIPPY STARTERS @gcddamnvampire

It was strange being back in the US with Ezra at her side, they were still figuring stuff out. Yes they aren't officially together with the promise of taking things slow, all the way slow, even with everyone at work side eyeing their interactions for weeks now, she kept her cards close to her chest. When their friday night drinks came Dany went, slightly avoiding Ezra there, careful about how much she drank before slipping away fairly early into the night. The main reason was to avoid any questions about what her and Ezra were working through, what had happened in london, frankly it was none of their business either. At the right opportunity she made her way out, not so much as saying goodbye in hopes that she could slip away unnoticed... Unfortunately she barely made it to the elevator before feeling a delicate, yet firm hand around her wrist, familiar. His skin against hers never went without that spark, every damn time. Dany's heart was rattling in her chest she turned to face him, before she had the chance to ask him what he wanted the words spilled from his lips and it caused her to hesitate. Her mouth open and closed as she thought of how to answer him. "You know how I feel about you." Dany looked down at the way his hands held her wrist, till not letting go, knowing that he wouldn't without a real answer. "I still don't trust this enough for me to say it. Not yet," Dany rested her hands on top of his before pulling his fingers delicately from her wrist. "Not here..."

[frannyzooey]

In The Dark: 7

Ezra x f!reader

Rating: Explicit

A/N: Thank you endlessly to @mourningbirds1 for her guidance, her help and her support on this one - I am better because of her. Also, thank you to @absurdthirst who once wrote a gagging Ezra fic so good that it’s been infused in my soul - the beginning of this one is for you, Keri. Taglist coming later, thank you for reading!

--

One afternoon, early in his days of getting to know you, Cee had brought you home after school. It was hot – the thick kind of heat that crept into the house and filled the rooms, the kind that made his feet stick to their old hardwood floors and the two of you sat at their kitchen table with your laptops open, sweating glasses of ice water next to your piles of books and pens and notes. 

The window was open to let in any semblance of a breeze, the humidity outside high for the time of year and when he walked into the kitchen to get himself a drink, he stopped at the sight in front of him.

You, eating a popsicle. Your mouth was stained red with it, your pursed lips wrapped around the frozen treat and his mouth watered at the imagined icy sweetness of your tongue meeting his. There was nothing overtly sexual about the way you were eating it — in fact, you had your head bent as you read, not even noticing he was there and he felt like a dirty old man watching you wrap your lips around it and suck — but he couldn’t look away. 

You kept reading, your finger delicately skating along a line of text on an open page and when you unconsciously started to tap the tip of the popsicle against the pout of your lower lip, he had to leave the room. 

It’s not warm anymore, the heat of summer fading away into crisp fall and then into the early days of winter; scarce snowflakes drifting and swirling outside the window of your apartment, the sky a bleak gray. 

But yet you tap — the motion a much more conscious one now, in your worshiping kneel between his spread, bare thighs. 

He’s got you in your bedroom, the hardwood floors an unforgiving dig into your knees and you make a mental note to use a pillow next time he wants you like this — which is often, given his obsession with your mouth. 

You let him tap the thick tip of his cock gently against your lower lip, the stiff weight of it firm in his grasp and when you stick your tongue out to taste it, he lets out a low, pleased groan with a heavy exhale. 

The light dusting of hair on his thighs slides under your grip when you push them open wider, scooting closer to where he sits on the edge of your bed and he guides himself deep into the wet cavern of your mouth, mesmerized by each disappearing inch. 

“Fuck, just like that, Birdie,” he groans, his hips flexing up to push himself between your lips and when he feels the swallow of your tight throat against the rounded head, he holds there for a moment, watching. 

He presses just a bit deeper and you take a deep inhale through your nose, your brow furrowed with pleasure. The pad of your thumb fits into the crease of his bare hip to steady yourself against the smooth skin.

He would feel bad about the way this makes your eyes water if he didn’t know how much you liked it. And if he himself didn’t like it so much. 

“You’re doing so good.” Your throat tightens a fraction around the tip of him, giving it a squeeze and his belly jumps, a shuddering breath working its way through his lungs. “You’re gonna make me come down that pretty little throat if you keep this up. Is that where you want it?”

You can’t answer with your mouth full, your lips stretched around the thick base of his cock, your tongue rounding the weight of him and so you hum instead, closing your eyes with an aroused frown. 

“Or do you want it on your face again?”

The thought makes you suck in, your thighs pressing together as you pull off him and the strings of saliva that glisten and stretch from him to you are the perfect slip when you pump him slickly with your hand, taking deep breaths. 

“I want it inside me,” you answer, your voice slightly hoarse. The knowledge for that being his use of your throat makes him harder in your hand, makes the tip of him leak a pearly mess and you scoop it up sweetly with your tongue, savoring the salt tang of it. The look he gives you is almost reverential, one of awe and he reaches for you, quickly hauling you onto his lap. 

His broad hands cradle your face in their hold when he pulls you in for a kiss, tasting both himself and you and if he tries hard enough, the long ago phantom sweetness of the popsicle. The memory of it makes him deepen the kiss, licking into your mouth. 

Your hips are already rocking against his, your slick cunt seeking him out and when he reaches to the side to open a condom he placed on the bed earlier, you feel the back of his hands brush against the delicate skin of your inner thighs as he rolls it on. Your body knows what is coming, and when he notches himself at your entrance, he groans at how easily he slips in and fills you. His hand wraps around the nape of your neck, his other one coming to rest on your hip with a greedy grip and you start to ride him, fucking yourself deep on his cock.

“Is this how you want it?” he pants, and you nod quickly, your expression already dazed with lust as you make him stroke that perfect spot inside. Your mouth is open, slack, hungry for his when you try to kiss him. Your mouths meet, but you can’t hold it, not with how fast you’re moving your hips and he lets go of you to lean back, bracing himself on the bed. He watches you ride, your breasts bouncing with a light sway for every rock forward onto him and falling back, he reaches for you.

“Oh fuck,” you cry out, the angle just right and when you start to grind on his lap to keep him stuffed inside, he can feel the curls at the base of his cock soaked and smeared with you; you’re gonna come. His hand splays firmly across your lower back, keeping you tight in place, knowing how you like that extra pressure. “I’m – I’m –”

His breathless grin beneath you tells you he already knows what you’re trying to say and you do it before you can get the words out, your nails digging into the meat of his shoulder as you cry out his name. 

He likes the way you call out for him, the pleading way you say it. As if you’re falling and he’s the only one you want; an overwhelming tide pulling you under and you’re reaching just for him. He knows now when it’s gonna happen, can feel your body tense before it breaks, can feel the burst of light and wetness before you let your mouth drop open in a slack, pleasure filled shape and it’s one of the most beautiful things he’s ever seen, every time. 

He gives you a second to relax your body above his and then he’s rolling you onto your back, his leanly muscled arm slipping under the crook of your knee to tug it higher. His strokes are harsh and hard, seeking his own release and his teeth grit, his jaw clenching with effort. 

Pounding into you, he gives you no choice but to take it, his heavy weight pressing you deep into the mattress and your expression is one of supplication, your hands splayed on his sides to hang on. You move one up to thread into the fine hairs at the nape of his neck, the strands there damp at the root with sweat and it’s half a dozen bruising strokes with his fist clenched around your comforter before he comes loudly inside you, stilling his hips hard in their press against yours. 

Your legs wind around his waist, keeping him inside. Your trembling thighs cushion his hips as you pull in shuddering breaths and he kisses you down from your joined high with a silent thanks.

For being such a good girl for him, for taking it all: him, the secrecy, what he needs to give you. 

The trust you place in him is a heady feeling, one he likes. He cradles it, kindles it, blows on it gently until your aroused confidence blooms into a raging fire; until you’re shamelessly fucking his face or choking on his cock or asking for exactly what you want. 

This bedroom of yours has become a sanctuary, one like his work room at his house. Here, it’s the same - those competent, skillful hands unwrapping you like an undiscovered treasure, molding and kneading and smoothing away all your hesitancy until he finds what he’s looking for underneath: your shameless, open desire. The sight of your bedroom alone arouses him now, the floral print on your comforter making his cock twitch in anticipation and he likes the way he leaves smelling like you, a souvenir to keep. 

“You did so good for me,” he says, lifting his hips to slip his briefs on. He sits on the edge of the bed, his small belly a cinch when he bends forward to swipe his shirt off the floor and you watch the worn, soft fabric slip over his back, pooling there for a moment before he tugs it down, covering the last bit of tanned expanse. 

He looks over at you, your arm tucked under your head as you lay there and watch and when his eyes drift down your body with a smile, he reaches out to brush his fingers up the inside of your thigh. 

“This did so good for me,” he says, dancing the pads of them over your soaked curls and you grin, closing your thighs around his hand. He pinches the skin there and you laugh, letting his hand go. 

“What are you going to do for the rest of the afternoon?” he asks, searching for his flannel and when he spots it, he stands, grabbing it from the floor. 

“Grocery shop, maybe?” You hum, rolling onto your stomach in the slow way only a sated woman can. You stretch out like a cat, and he admires the length of your body with an affectionate smile. “Sleep, with the way you wore me out.”

You shriek surprised when he delivers a stinging swat to your bottom, and you roll back over, laughing. 

“No sleeping,” he scolds, crawling back up onto the bed. His knees come to rest on the outside of yours, his hands a brace around your head. “The day awaits.”

You say nothing, instead grabbing the fabric of his open flannel and tugging him down on you, pulling him in for another kiss. 

“What are you going to do today?” you ask, your voice already a murmured, distracted one. His mouth is now busy tasting the curve of your jaw, the slope of your neck. You pull your legs out from between his, wrapping them around his waist with a squeeze and he pulls back with one more savoring kiss pressed at the juncture of your shoulder, looking down at you. 

“I’ve got an end table I’ve gotta finish. Then I’m gonna drive it out to the country for delivery.” His eyebrows wiggle, the curve of his mischievous smile perking up underneath his mustache. “Wanna come with? We could drop it off together,” he suggests, his hips shifting in the cradle of your thighs. He grinds them into yours, his briefs the only fabric between you. “Could fuck somewhere out in the country.”

“There’s country in this state?” You can’t imagine what it must look like, surrounded daily by anything but and he scoffs, shaking his head. 

“Oh Birdie,” he chides, amused. Rolling his hips against yours one more time in a lewd suggestion, he smirks. “I’ve got a lot to show you yet.”

—

Tuesday is your day off — a perfectly mundane, early in the week sort of day and he’s been coming over then, driving to your apartment and knocking on your door and slipping into your bed. Cee doesn’t usually call on those days with it being one of her heavier loads schedule-wise and so it’s become your day — just you and him. 

Sometimes you don’t do anything but stay in bed: fucking and touching and kissing until you’re ready to fuck again. It’s like he can’t get enough but neither can you; no moment wasted. Your skin is smeared with him on those days, your scent pressed onto his skin, your mouth tasting like his. His limbs are sore and so are yours, along with other parts of your body, but you like the reminder that stays behind when he leaves. 

Other times you go out: on deliveries with him, or around the city to various museums, bookstores, his favorite haunts. Always an unspoken agreement to stay away from the part of the city where Cee would be, he brings you to places you’ve never been in neighborhoods off the beaten path - or whatever the closest thing to that concept is in New York. 

A tiny sushi restaurant only five tables big, tucked under a building, that requires a staircase to descend into its dim, fragrant depths. Musty antique stores, where he seemingly knows every owner and you listen to them chat while you pursue the old items, slowly pacing along the creaking hardwood floors. Your used bookstore, where he spends an hour whispering the most absurd names for cocks into your ear; your head tilting with a shiver under your laugh. 

Some days it’s a mix of both: edging you in public to rip your clothes off the second you walk in the door. Sourcing mid century chaises in Lowertown, and riding him on your living room floor seconds after stepping inside.  A French lunch from a food stand in Bryant Park before bending you over the back of the couch. Your hip bones had ground painfully into the wooden beam along the back with every harsh thrust of his inside you, but you smiled at the tender spots in the shower that night when you soaped them.

Their house is where it gets tricky.

Quick fumbles in his work room, desperate, hungry kisses when Cee goes to the bathroom, loaded looks every time you meet. One time she’d taken a phone call - another writer, from her creative class - and it took everything you had to not immediately get up from the couch and wander to find him. You waited a full minute, trying to appear casual even though every bone in your body was calling out for his and when it sounded like the conversation was getting more involved, you got up and walked slowly towards her room. 

You bypassed it, striding quickly down the hall and found him on the patio out back, reading. He turned around at the sound of the glass door sliding open and leaving it cracked to hear her inside, you crooked your finger at him, beckoning him just out of sight. 

You’d never seen him move so fast before. 

Your back hitting the bricks as he pushed you up against the wall in his eagerness, his body crowded yours and he was going to leave a mark, the way he tasted the skin beneath your ear. You pulled his face away from it to stop him, meeting his mouth with your own. Hooking your leg over his hip, you ground yourself against him and when he returned it in kind, you’re pretty sure you would have fucked him right there if you knew for a fact she would be longer. 

“You’re driving me crazy, just sitting in there. I can’t think straight with you so close. I just wanna kiss you, touch you. I wanna drag you into my bedroom and fuck you so hard that –”

You stilled him, Cee’s voice no longer heard. You gave him a pleading look, scrambling away and when you slipped back into the house, you slowed your walk and willed yourself to calm down. Turning around, you’d seen him pacing the patio silently through the glass, doing the same thing. 

He was like a drug: heady, addictive, the slide of his tongue something you craved more each time you had it. Just as ravenous for you, he couldn’t get enough of the pliant mold of your body against his, the sweet taste of your breath in his mouth. 

It’s your own fault. You’d let it build between you until you could taste it, let it build until you could already feel him against you if you tried hard enough, let it build until you couldn’t take it anymore. 

Now that you can have him, how could you stop?

–

“You always hear the weirdest shit on the subway — and like, good for them? They obviously don’t give a fuck. Just living their lives for everyone to see, the fact that they are on public transportation just another part of their day but I also don’t want to hear about some of the stuff I hear about. Jesus.” 

You find yourself smiling at Cee’s rant as you follow her into her house, dropping your bag by the door. You don’t even know how this one started, but you’re used to them by now and you make your way into the kitchen, grabbing a drink from the fridge. 

It was true anyway, about the subway. The idea that people treated it as an extension of their home, sometimes. As if living in this close of quarters in the city was  like you were sharing an apartment with eight million other people at all times; their dirty laundry out to air, their everyday life intersecting with yours. They ate while you studied, they slept while you listened to music, they made doctors appointments and read and held hands and cried and laughed - all on the same train you occupied. 

Like vessels of human life, the entire human experience happened inside those steel cars, ones that have seen countless other experiences before yours and it was fascinating, in a way. 

But you also saw some truly weird shit. 

“Oh, I forgot,” she interrupts herself, tugging a folded slip from her back pocket. It’s a flyer, one found by the tattered and overlapped dozens that you find on bulletin boards all over campus. She unfolds it, handing it to you. “You wanna go to this on Saturday? Could be fun.”

“What could be fun? Can I come?” Ezra walks into the kitchen, tossing the rag he was using to wipe his hands on the counter and he comes to stand at your side. He grasps your elbow in hello, like he didn’t just have the entire bottom half of his face buried in your cunt less than 24 hours ago. 

He looks down at the paper in your hand, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “You’re going to this?”

“I guess?”

“I’m going to this.”

His answer surprises both of you, and he looks between your faces for a moment, the corner of his lips lifting in a curl. 

“What, you think I’m too old or something?”

“Who are you going with?”

He answers, listing off a couple of people’s names that Cee seems to recognize with the way she nods at him and you watch him grab a can of water from the fridge, cracking it open and taking a slow, long drink. 

“Well, we’re also gonna go,” Cee says, sitting down at the table to open her bag. “I don’t think we’ll be able to go together or anything. There, I mean.” She looks at you in confirmation. “I think we have a study group that night before or something?”

Ezra, still facing the fridge, idly scratches the small of his back with his thumb and your eyes fix on the sliver of his tailbone that you can see, the peek of his briefs right under it. Your heels had dug into that same spot the week before as he pounded into you, and then later, you had kneaded it with your hands while he laid on your couch and watched a movie. 

“Um, yea,” you finally answer, dragging your eyes back to her. “I think so. At the library.”

“How convenient,” he smiles, turning around to face you. “My girls, spending the night at the library. How studious.”

You’re too fixated on the fact that he just called you his girl and miss his joke entirely, not getting it until he steps forward to tap his finger against the paper on the table. You look down at the flyer - the show is held at a bar called “The Library”.

“Haha,” Cee says in the most flat voice she can muster. “Can you get out of here already with your dad jokes? We have stuff to do.”

He’s still smiling, pleased with himself and when he turns to wander back to his work room, he looks back at you and winks. 

–

Standing in line outside the bar, you slip your phone from your purse and scroll through your mail app again, checking the subject lines. Your breath is a white cloud of frosted warmth in front of you, your legs restlessly rubbing together to create heat against the chilled skin and Cee takes the phone from your grasp, turning the screen off. 

“Stop looking for it. It’ll come.”

She said the same thing a week ago, after you waited another two to hear about your resubmission to the program and just like then, you give her a small smile and tuck your phone back into your purse. “I’m sorry. I’m just getting antsy, ya know?” You move closer to the door, the sound of people and music wafting out into the winter air and she huddles closer to you, linking her arm with yours. “I just wish they would let me know already.”

“Believe me, I’ve been there.” She pats your hand like someone much older than she is, and you smile, looking down at it. “You’ll get it. I just know it.”

You say nothing, squeezing her tighter. You’ve been on edge about it for weeks—both wanting it to happen, and yet not wanting to think about what it will mean for you if it does. The two of you take in the sight of the other people in front of you, watching them flash their IDs to the bouncer. 

“Hey, so what’s the deal with that guy in our study group, by the way?” Cee changes the subject, two more people in front of you now and you’re already laughing, because you know what she’s gonna say and you get your ID’s out and ready, handing them over. 

“God, the one who insists on explaining the concept of your own story to you, even when you tell him he’s got it wrong?” 

A wave of body heat hits you immediately upon entering, the small space already crammed with the Saturday crowd. There is music playing - not the live band, not yet - but it’s heard loud enough over the din in the main room and it takes you a second to even spot the bar through the clusters of people. 

Bottles behind him just as crowded as bodies, the bartender moves faster than you thought was possible with an apathetic look on his face and waving you forward, Cee leads you to where she’s spotted Ezra and his friends. 

You’re nervous to meet them, focusing instead on the decor of the dimly lit space to calm your nerves. The scuffed walls are scrawled and covered with graffiti, the words multicolored and chaotic; some legible, others not. Shelves line the walls, an homage to the name of the place with cases jammed with haphazard stacks of books and they look both worn and untouched; tossed there for decoration, but probably also stained with beer. Carefully curated to look careless comes to mind. 

A booth running along one side of the place that leads to the graffiti covered bar, the end of it iis where he’s standing and you bite your lip to keep from smiling too broadly at his blatant sweep of his eyes over your body. You knew wearing a skirt was the right choice, even if it was too cold outside for it. 

His friends greet you both, drawing Cee in for hugs all around. 

“You’re old enough to come out to stuff like this, Cee?” they tease, making faces at their own oldness. “Jesus, Ez.”

“I know, it’s crazy,” he replies, shaking his head. Hailing the bartender, he turns to you and reaching out to brush his knuckles against your stomach, the quick movement makes your belly jump. “What do you want?” He nods his head towards the bar. 

“Just a beer. Whatever you’re getting is fine.”

“Vodka tonic, got it.” He smiles, giving you a wink and you return it with a shy smile of your own. Cee jokes with his friends while Ezra orders, his shirt pulling tight over the muscles of his back in his lean over the bar and he receives the sweating bottles a moment later, one short glass among them.

“You think I don’t see what you drink at my house, Birdie?” he teases, handing the small glass to you and you grin, thanking him for the drink.  

You take a deep swallow of icy liquor; the band setting up on stage.

“Ezra, we missed you the other day,” the woman says, taking a pull of her beer. “You must have been busy or something.”

The man next to her, her boyfriend by the proximity in which he’s standing next to her, raises his eyebrows in question at her and she clarifies. “You know, last Tuesday. Afternoon, I think?” She looks back at Ezra. “I tried to give you a call, we all went out to see a movie.”

Your heart picks up speed, but he brushes it off easily. How can he always be so calm? It’s disarming, the things he can hide. “Must have been working or something. What did you see?”

The conversation that follows is an easy banter of friends, their familiarity obvious. They make reference to another time when Ezra did go with them, all of them getting high before seeing a campy horror movie and when they all laugh, you join them though you feel slightly out of place. 

Cee chatting animatedly with one of them and showing them something on her phone, Ezra  laughing at what his friend is saying and you take a sip of your drink, shifting unsure on your feet. You look around the space, half listening to their conversation and wishing Ezra could touch you. A physical reminder of the fact that he wants you here, you want to be claimed by him for everyone to see — but he can’t do that. 

Cee, finishing her conversation, sidles up next to you and links your arm with hers. You welcome the familiar press of her body, leaning into it. 

“You ready to have your ears blown out?” she asks and you laugh at her obvious excitement over the concept. 

“Yep.”

–

She’s not kidding. The music louder than you’ve ever heard in concert before due to the small space, the chords reverberate through your ears and distorted riffs roll through your body, the beat of the drums pounding through your limbs. It isn’t long before Cee flashes you a smile and gets lost in the flailing mass of bodies, her tawny cap of hair among the other more multi colored ones and with one hand above her head clutching a beer, she throws her head back and laughs at something the girl she’s dancing with says. You smile, watching her. 

Ezra is keeping an eye her too, but for different reasons.

A glance at his friends to make sure they are preoccupied, when Cee gets closer to the stage and further away from you, he reaches for the small of your back, dragging his knuckles across it. The crowd has pushed the two of you further against the waist high, water-ringed wood of the bar, your body blocking the sight of any movement he makes and you lean into the small reminder that he’s there, behind you.

His finger works its way underneath the band of your skirt, tucking itself neatly into the dip of your spine and when he gives the fabric the slightest of tugs, a piercing need settles heavy in your belly. You wait a moment and then shuffle your feet back. 

His friend says something in a yell that you can barely hear over the music, Ezra laughing and you smile at the sound. Shifting to move out of the way when someone passes in front of you, his finger slips out of your waistband and  his hand splays over the curve of your hip, keeping you in place. 

To anyone else it would look like he’s maybe resting his hand on the bar behind your back, or maybe the edge of the stool next to him, but you can feel the weight of it through your shirt, the thrill lighting a path straight between your legs. You press them together when he slips his pinky underneath the hem, seeking out your bare skin. 

Looking at his profile, you admire how handsome he is tonight. He listens and nods and laughs easy with his friends, the lines around his eyes deepening with crinkles and a strange sort of pride fills your chest at the idea that normally you’d be way too intimidated to ever approach a man like him if you were strangers in this bar, but he’s yours. This charming, confident man, in his tight over the rounds of his shoulders faded, years old band t shirt that you love. His dark curls are extra mussed tonight, clearly air dried in their splay over the crown of his head and the shock of white at his temple stands out in the dark bar. He laughs again, his dimple pressing deep into his stubbled cheek and you drop your eyes to look at it. Dear God, that dimple, when he grins.

You know what that dimple feels like - you’ve fit your thumb into it, fisted those curls in your hands with a tug, felt the scrape of his gray blended beard on the inside of your thighs and against your throat, circled your arms around those broad shoulders as you held on for purchase against his thrusts. It’s a strange feeling, being in a public place with him now. Like no one else knows the hitched breathing he lets out when he moves above you, or the sound of his groan when he comes or the way a fine blush creeps up his cheeks.

Smiling inwardly at the thought that you alone know those things, you go back to watching the crowd, listening to his conversation.

“Sara was asking about you,” you hear Ezra’s friend shout and you feel him lean in, listening with one ear. “I think she was hoping I would invite her tonight.”

Sara. You frown, knowing you’ve heard that name before and it comes to you suddenly - the woman at the movie theater. 

“Oh yea?” he says, ever the non committal gentleman but you can feel his grip on your hip tighten a fraction, his body tensing. “How is she?”

He’s deflecting, though you selfishly wish he would be more direct and dismiss him entirely.

His friend continues. “I thought you liked her, man. She said she was waiting to hear from you, but then you never called her or something?”

You want to step away from him, but when you try, he holds you tighter. 

“Yea, it didn’t really – “, he stops, unsure what to say and you think it’s maybe the first time you’ve heard him at a loss for words. “It was like a one night thing,” he says, quieter. 

His friend nods in understanding. “So you seeing anyone else then, or –?”

Freezing, you wait to hear what he’s going to say. His hand stills, then slips from your hip and you feel him turn and face the bar. “I’m gonna get another, you want one?” 

He didn’t answer the question. 

You bring your drink to your lips, letting an ice cube slide into your mouth and your tongue rolls around it while you try to tamp down the disappointment that floods through your chest. You know he can’t say anything, so you aren’t even sure what you wanted him to do but you know it wasn’t that. 

Couldn’t he have said…..something? Anything less open ended, to at least convey that there was someone?

A couple minutes pass, the music continuing. Everyone else around you carries on with their night, the bar becoming too cramped, too crowded, too hot and throngs of warm bodies press in on you, the music getting too loud. You look at the front of the bar, frost creeping around the edges of the fogged window and you need some air, but it’s too far. Turning, you place your empty glass down on the bar and start to push your way through the crowd towards the bathrooms. 

Ezra’s eyes follow your back.

–

The bathroom is tight, little more than a tiny room with a sink and mirror and just like the whole bar, is covered wall to wall in graffiti. It’s even scrawled on the toilet, black, severely curved marks along the back and down the sides and the toilet paper itself hangs from a metal chain strung on the wall; the branded hand soap by the sink the only unthemed thing in the room. 

You slam the door behind you, and with shaking hands, wet some paper towels with cool water, pressing them against the back of your neck. Overheated, you bite back the impulse to cry and the loud bass of the music covers the deep, steady inhales of air you pull in to calm yourself. 

You know he couldn’t say anything, you know that. You slide the damp paper across your collarbones, wiping away the residual heat from the packed room and close your eyes, willing this feeling away. 

This is their life, not yours. Cee is going to find out and then he’s going to break up with you. He’ll go find that Sara woman instead, or someone else who fits in with them. Someone he doesn’t have to hide with, someone who won’t hurt everyone. 

You know what you’re doing is a secret, but you never imagined it would hurt so bad for him to flat out ignore what you were to him. All those days spent together on your couch and in his car and in your bed. All you’ve shared in the hours you’ve spent together, and the way he shared too. The way he felt like so much to you. 

You wanted him to say it so bad. 

Washing your hands, you hear someone jiggle the handle of the bathroom and before you can yell out it’s occupied, the door opens. 

“What the hell, I’m –”

It’s Ezra, the dark crown of his head the first thing you see before he comes through the door, closing it behind him. You must not have locked the door in your haste, but he does.

“What are you doing in here? I don’t think we can —“

He doesn’t answer, closing the distance between you to crowd you against the wall. His expression is one of concern, yet laced with restrained lust and his hands reach for your face, cupping it with a soothing stroke of his thumbs.  

“I’m sorry, Birdie. I really am. I wish I could say it.” He kisses you, not letting you answer and when he pulls back to let you breathe, he bends his head to drag his nose along the length of your neck. Your eyes flutter shut, your hand slipping into the crown of his hair as your body instantly responds, his touch what you’ve been longing for all night. 

His hands brace on the wall behind you as he leans into you, his mouth brushing against your skin. “It’s torture, having you so close but not being able to touch you. Do you know how much I want it? How much I wanna tell them that you’re mine?”

His hand reaches for yours, grasping it in his hold and when he brings it to the fly of his jeans, you let out a whimper into the small tiled room at the firm heft cupped in your palm. “It makes me so fucking hard, Birdie. To think about you being mine.” His fingers lace with yours, pressing your hand harder against him. “Feel it.”

He grinds into your touch, keeping his hand over yours and it all happens in a flash after that — a trigger being pulled, a string snapping. 

His mouth finds yours, his hands shoving the hem of your skirt up to grab handfuls of your ass and the groan that he lets out when he squeezes them is felt against your lips, sliding down your throat. He kneads the plump flesh, pressing the weight of his body between your legs to open you wider and his fingers spread you from behind, just barely brushing against the damp crotch of your panties. 

“Fuck, fuck –,” he whispers, almost like he’s scolding himself but unable to stop and your hands tremble as they go for the button of his jeans, trying to work it open. He pulls away, the heat of his body leaving yours and he slides his hands under the band of your panties to rip them down your thighs and then he stands, shoving his thigh between yours. You can’t help but grind your bare, wet seam against the firm line of denim, dropping your eyes to watch as he pushes the black band of his briefs down to pull himself out. Tugging your leg up and around his hip, he positions himself at your entrance, his gaze fierce and unbearingly intimate so close to yours. 

“Fuck, Birdie,” he grits, pushing in. Your twin sounds of relief are louder than they should be, but still drowned out by the music outside the door and the curve of his nose rests against the meat of your cheek, his labored grunts gusting hot over your neck. “This fucking skirt. Did you wanna get fucked in it?”

“Yea,” you moan, swallowing the hitch in your breathing. “Yes. Yes.” 

The vibration of the angry chords are felt against your back through the thin walls and you tug on his hair, bringing his mouth harshly to yours. His hips rock you up the tiled wall, your bare ass sliding against it with every thrust inside and his hold on you is bruisingly possessive, shifting from the outside of your knee, to your hip, to your breast filling his palm. He tugs the neck of your shirt down, biting into the swell of it and when you cry out, he soothes it with a sweep of his tongue. 

It’s a bathroom and there are people lined up outside and you really shouldn’t be doing this here but just like when he comes to visit you, he’s fucking all coherent logic from your mind, forcing you to open for him. He feels so fucking good, your strained whispers telling him so into the shell of his ear and the groans he lets out echo, blending with the muted music. You absorb them into your body, flooding around his cock at the filthy sounds and he fucks you harder, faster when he feels how wet you’re getting.

“I’m gonna come, Ezra, please make me –” your fingernails dig into his sides, your back arching to meet his every stroke. The weight of him inside you is more than you can take in this position, the fullness a tight stretch and his palm slaps against the wall, his eyes clenching shut. 

“Oh fuck, I didn’t bring anything. Christ, I didn’t – where should I –”

The desperation in his voice brings you to the edge and over, him following right behind you and his head tips back with a strained groan that slips out of his throat, deep and filthy sounding. It rumbles against your chest, his cock spurting the last of his release and before he even pulls out, you can feel some of it slide hot down the curve of your ass. 

He’s unsteady for a moment, a breathless laugh before he drops his head down to rest on your shoulder and when he slips out, a trickle of hot, thick liquid trails down the inside of your thigh. Your fists wind into his shirt, keeping the weight of his body tight against yours and when he looks up at you, you kiss him. It’s one of longing, bordering on desperation even after what you just did and he ends it slowly, uncaring if anyone else is waiting for the room. 

Shuffling back, he tucks himself away, buttoning his jeans as he watches you wipe the inside of your thighs with a wad of toilet paper and his heart is still pounding from earlier, but now the beat is a stronger, an all consuming one as you look up at him with a smile. You toss the tissue in the can and he comes closer, pulling you to him. 

“I know I can’t say it,” he starts, his mouth brushing against the corner of your lips and you lean into his embrace. You might be bare under this skirt, your panties discarded on the bathroom floor of a punk bar and this might not be the most romantic of settings, but he makes it feel so with the intensity of his words. “But you know you’re mine, right?”

You know it, can feel the evidence of it slipping out of you, can feel it in the cradle of his hands and you nod, accepting another kiss. Your mouth is pliant and plush against his, and you feel his smile in the kiss, pulling away to look at it. 

That dimple again. You fit your thumb into it, and he chases the heel of your hand with his mouth. 

“I gotta –,” you start, laughing in your nod towards the bathroom floor and when he realizes what you’re saying, he bends to help you step into your underwear, sliding them up your thighs. He watches you pull them up in his crouch, pressing one last kiss to the front of your thigh. 

“Ready?” he asks, standing and you nod. The bar and the worry you felt earlier is miles away; your body now just as scrawled as this bathroom wall is with proof of his claim on you. The ghost of his hold on your hips, the marks his mouth left behind, the slick evidence of his want between your legs. His hand holds yours, squeezing tight. 

“Ready.”

[tarisilmarwen]

I just love how... messy Rebellion Era Jedi are.

Half of them are traumatized survivors of Order 66, trying to cope with the near-total violent eradication of their home, their friends, and everything they ever knew, often in unhealthy ways.  (Cere cut herself off from the Force, Caleb changed his name, buried his identity, and turned to drinking, Cal suppressed his Force abilities so badly he had to relearn all of them.)  Most of them were children when the Order fell, far too young to have everything ripped away from them, half-trained and frightened and constantly on the run.  Running away from the pain, from the trauma, from who they are.  Moving from place to place, trying to find somewhere, some safe haven, some remnant left of the Jedi Order, someone they can trust, who still remembers the Jedi as they are and not who the Empire has decreed them to be.

The older ones didn’t escape the trauma either; they had spent their entire lives as Jedi and now suddenly everything was gone and everyone was dead and they could no longer practice their culture or beliefs for fear of discovery, they had to take everything they knew and go underground, hiding who they were and escaping to preserve what remnants of their Order remained.  (Jocasta desperately trying to save and protect the gathered knowledge in the Archives and libraries, Obi-Wan and Yoda forced into isolation and hermitage with nothing but the Force and their memories.)

Imagine the constant fear and paranoia they must have felt.  Can this person or this person be trusted?  If their secret is revealed, will they be ratted out?  Rejected?  Cast aside like vagrants or turned over to the Empire relentlessly hunting them down for crimes they didn’t commit?  After all if the clones could betray them—their closest friends and brothers-in-arms, that they fought alongside for years—if they could just turn on them within the blink of an eye, how could they be safe anywhere in the galaxy?  Imagine the poisonous lies they had to swallow, had to bite back rebuttals against, any time anyone talked shit about their Order, crowed about the glorious Empire and its Emperor, the man who had orchestrated the murder of their people.  Imagine knowing the truth, the horror and destruction, and not being able to speak about it.  Being utterly alone in a galaxy that was once filled with bright lights, lights that in a single horrible moment were snuffed out en masse, a tear in the Force so horrible it’s still reverberating years later.

And then there are the kids born after Order 66, who come into an openly hostile galaxy without any knowledge of the Force, who don’t even know what they are, who have no context for the strange things they just “know” and can do.  The ones that won’t have a supportive community of people like them to help them train and manage their abilities, who will never have that because Palpatine didn’t just wipe out the Jedi, he killed the Nightsisters, neutered the Guardians of the Whills, had the Lasat mass disintegrated, got rid of any other Force discipline besides his own, practically erased all knowledge and memory of them, to consolidate his power.  These kids won’t understand why they get weird feelings, why they’re so oddly lucky, why things move and shake around them when they’re emotional.  They haven’t been taught to be mindful, to be disciplined, to guard themselves against the whispers of the Dark Side.  They’re fidgety, inattentive, impatient, and full of anger.  (Ezra, Leia, Luke.)  The lucky ones can hide their abilities just long enough to escape notice.  The unlucky ones get captured and tortured and experimented on, harvested, turned and then sicced back on people just like them like rabid dogs.

And I live for it when the survivors and the new generation manage to come together, kindred souls drawn to each other by fate and the will of the Force.  Tiny flickering candles of Light finding each other again, gathering strength together, sparking hope wherever they are just by being who they are.  Stumbling awkwardly through half-remembered lessons, reconnecting with their pasts and gaining new futures.  Trying to survive together under a regime that is actively hunting them down and trying to kill them, for who they are, for what they are, for what they remember and know, for the threat they represent against Palpatine’s stranglehold on Force power.  Everything the children of the Force are taught puts them in more danger, everything the survivors manage to teach and pass on paints a bigger target on their backs.

But Jedi can’t not get involved.  The Force itself calls them back into the fight, calls them to inspire hope in the hopeless, to rise up and fight against evil, hold the Darkness back.  Calls them back to themselves, to take up the mantle of Jedi again and stand firm as the guardians of peace and justice in the galaxy.  And when the Jedi come out of the shadows, rebels line up behind them, emboldened to take up arms.  The whole Alliance adopts the language of the Jedi (”May the Force be with you.”) and even when their champions fall or go missing they carry on, a movement started and led and encouraged by Jedi (Ahsoka as Fulcrum, Kanan and Ezra, Luke Skywalker) until they topple the Emperor and avenge the dead culture they pay honor to at last.  And young Force Sensitives and Jedi survivors can finally come out of hiding and be safe, rebuild what was lost, come home.

Just... Rebellion Era Jedi, man. 😭

[erodasfishtacos]

Is this seat empty? " Yes and this one will be too if you sit down" , "Don't be like that my love."

For MLB!Harry first stupid fight in a relationship 😂

Okay this turned into something entirely different then the prompt. Sorry anon 😂

—

Peace & Quiet (Please)

If you enjoy please like, reblog, comment, or come talk to me!

I write for free so if you enjoy my work please consider donating to my kofi page.

-

“Where d’you put m’protein mix?” Harry asks, padding into the kitchen and opening every single fucking cabinet.

“It’s in the same place it’s been for the past five years,” YN bites out with a slight irritation, mixing the pancake batter a little rougher.

She’s been up since three in the morning and Harry sauntered in around six-thirty after coming home late from a baseball game last night.

All the babies still asleep.

“Ah - fuck,” Her husband huffs when he spills the powder all over the countertop and floor she had just swiffered ten minutes ago.

When he goes to open the other cabinet and grab for a shaker bottle - they all come tumbling out onto the floor in a loud clash.

“Could you be any louder? You going to wake up the kids!” YN scolds harshly, pointing to the closet, “Go get the swiffer.”

He obliges - surprised by her attitude, grabbing it and slapping it (by accident) on the ground like a fucking baseball bat, the head of the mop snapping off and breaking.

“S’broken,” Harry states the obvious, shrugging and going about peeling a banana before leaving the peel near the sink.

YN turns to face him, voice irritated, “I’m about to break you, just like you broke the swiffer.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” He asks cheekily but her glare tells him there is no amusement to be had this morning.

“I just spent all morning cleaning and you’ve made this place a disaster already!” His wife bites before flipping one of the pancakes.

Harry dejectedly cleans up his protein mix mess, neatly places the shake bottles into the right place, throws away the peel, and closes all the cabinets.

“M’sorry,” He murmurs, coming up behind her and kisses the nape of her neck, “Y’seem a bit cranky this mornin’.”

And man. He should have not said that.

“Do you have a baby who needs to fucking feed from your body every hour even during the night? I don’t think so,” She mutters, shaking him off of her.

“Hey, mama. M’bein’ an ass, what can I do to help?” He changes gears, choosing to stand next to her since she didn’t seem to want to be touch.

“Breastfeed - let your nipples feel like their constantly on fire and about to fall off. Make all this post-partum bleeding stop. Let me sleep for a day straight. I don’t know,” YN begins to sniffles, plating a few mini pancakes.

He’s taken aback, eyebrows furrowing in concern, and he leans forward to flip off the stovetop, “Can I touch you?”

She nods, wiping her eyes, and allows him to haul her up into their marble countertop, “Mama, y’need to tell me when y’feeling overwhelmed? Please baby. I’ve asked you a million times to wake me up and I can bottle feed her.”

“No, she…I have to feed her. It helps bonding and it-“

Harry interrupts firmly, “She will be perfectly fine being fed by a bottle a few times a day. You’re putting too much stress on yourself.”

Her head falls on his shoulder and she mumbles, “I just feel so…gross, not attractive at all.”

He pulls her back, searching her face in confusion, “Baby, why would you ever say somethin’ like that?”

YN let’s out a quiet sob, “My nipples are chafed and sore, I’m constantly bleeding, my belly hasn’t deflated -“

Harry can’t help but lean in and connect their lips harshly, he’s pulling her loose shirt up and over her head.

“Harry, what-“

“Listen t’me,” Harry rasps seriously, his hands are tender and careful as they cup her swollen breasts - thumbing at her painful nubs.

“I’m literally obsessed w’your tits, baby. They’ll go back to normal after y’done feeding and even if they don’t - I love them just as fucking much. You fed our three healthy strong boys and now you’re makin’ sure our chunky little girl is eating good.”

Then he hands move to cup her belly, large hands splayed over the still softening, firm bump from where Briar had been housed for nine months.

“Y’gave me four, four fuckin’ babies from this belly. I’m fucking in love with your body. God, y’thighs, y’tummy, the stretchmarks - fuck, getting me hard just lookin’ at you.”

It was true, he was stiffening up in his shorts but neither of them acknowledged it - it was a love boner more than anything else.

He literally got hard from how much he loved her.

“I’m tired,” She sighs softly, letting Harry tug her shirt back on as the children would be waking up soon to eat breakfast.

“I know, mama,” Harry acknowledges softly, giving her another kiss before taking over the pancake station.

-

When all the boys are downstairs and chomping away on their food, Cash, who is just about four decides it’ll be funny to squirt the sticky syrup all over their expensive stool cushions and the floor.

When YN turns from the sink to see the mess, she admits she snaps a little bit, “Really Harry? You’re supposed to be watching them, not checking the sports news on your phone!”

Harry is about to defend himself but his wife is stomping over to where Cash has emptied the bottle and gives him a firm look, “Cash Edward Styles, get your bum upstairs, right now.”

Cash’s eyes widen, his mother rarely needed to use a harsh tone with them, “Mama, I’m so-“

“If you are not upstairs, by the bathtub this instant, you get no outside time today. Do you understand me?” YN tells him, giving Easton a warning look when he licks at the syrup on his finger.

“Yes mama,” Cash squeaks out sadly, abandoning his plate and walking up towards the bathroom upstairs to get clean.

Easton and Ezra are dead silent as they watch their brother leave - not wanting the same fate as him so they sit proper.

“Sweetheart-“ Harry begins, putting his phone back in his pocket.

“No, I have my hands full taking care of four kids. I don’t need you acting like a fifth. Go bathe your son,” YN tells him coldly, an angry stare directed his way.

Harry clenches his jaw, biting his tongue as he stands up and pushes his chair in with force - making a loud noise before following after his second son.

A few minutes after they’re out of sight, Easton thought it’d be funny to wipe syrup down Ezra’s cheek which made Ezra cry and throw a pancake at his older brother - now soaking him in syrup.

YN starts to leak milk at the sound of Ezra’s cries.

“Easton Robin - get you butt upstairs this instant too. You know better - no outside time today,” She informs him as she uses a wet wipe to clean Ezra’s cheek.

“Mama,” Easton whines, fat tears starting roll down his cheeks as he stands up, loitering by the kitchen stool.

“Do not make me repeat myself,” YN warns, swiping a paper towel over the wet spot on her shirt from the leak.

-

Harry had just started washing up Cash who was still melancholy when his blubbering older one comes in - still tearful.

He sighs, looking at his syrupy son, “Wha’ happened?”

Easton looks hesitant, “I put syrup on Ezzie and mama said no outside time today.”

His father is tight-lipped, he can already predict that Easton’s actions upset Ezra, “Alright, c’mon. Let’s clean y’up too. Y’know better, Easton.”

-

Harry had just finished helping both boys dress when YN appears in the doorway with Ezra who has a binkie popped in his mouth.

She steps over and hands their son to Harry before muttering, “I’m going to feed Briar, keep the boys out of the room. I need some peace.”

YN disappears from the room before he can even reply to her.

-

Harry can admit he gets distracted when one of his coaches calls him up for a game change, doesn’t notice when Cash sneaks from the playroom.

It’s less than five minutes later when YN leads Cash gently by the hand back into the playroom, with Briar still latched and feeding.

When she sees Harry on his phone, she’s fucking livid with him.

“Really Harry?” His wife scoffs, guiding Cash to join Easton in where he’s playing with legos.

“I’ll call you back,” Harry replies to his coach before hanging up, “Sorry, it was Donny-“

“Good to know your job is more important than watching your kids,” She spits out before storming back out of the room.

Harry is up and following behind her, jaw clenched and irritated, “Just ‘cause you’re in a pissy mood doesn’t mean that y’say shit like that.”

She turns on her heel, eyes fiery, “You have no god damn consideration. You’ve been swamped this week because of your nike promotion and games. I’ve had the babies all by myself for four nights while you get to gallivant around!”

Harry goes to speak but she puts her free hand up.

“I ask for you to keep our house clean and to let me have one moment of peace with our daughter but you don’t even let me have that! You do not understand how hard it is to push a baby out of you and then have them rely on you to feed them twenty times a day!”

His anger fades when his wife starts sobbing - chest shuddering sobs, “I just had her four weeks ago. I-I haven’t had a break yet. You act like it’s so easy!”

He starts to walk towards her, “Sweetheart-“

YN shakes her head, a desperate plea in her tone, “Please just give me time with Briar.”

Harry swallows harshly and nods - feeling like shit as his wife walks back towards the stairs - all the while still feeding their daughter.

-

“Hello?”

“Mum, I-can you take the boys for the night?” Harry asks quietly, standing in the kitchen while the two older boys are still playing quietly.

Ezra’s passed out, on Harry’s hip with his little face smushed against the cap of his shoulder with parted lips.

“Dear, is everything okay?” She replies cautiously.

“No, I-I don’t know. YN is overwhelmed and I don’t think I’ve been supportive enough,” Harry feels himself begin to sniffle.

Anne doesn’t pry for information which Harry loves about her, she agrees to take them, and states she’ll be over within the hour.

Harry goes about packing their pajamas and other necessities in their little backpacks as the squeal excitedly about going to Nana’s.

“Can we say bye to mama?” Easton asks anxiously as they clear out of their bedrooms.

“Let me go ask,” He murmurs, running a hand through his son’s curls.

When he cracks open the door, YN is sprawled out on her back, fast asleep with Briar also asleep in the bassinet next to the bed.

His heart aches because her shirt is off, and the remnants of her nipple cream which was a pinkish orange color wasn’t fully rubbed in on her bruised breasts.

Harry guides them downstairs, promising that their mama will call them later.

-

After the boys leave, Harry doesn’t know what to do so he cleans whatever he finds that is dirty or messy so she won’t have to.

He does all the laundry in the house, cleans up every single toy, and when Briar starts to whimper - he sneaks in to snatch her up so she doesn’t wake YN.

Then he takes her out to the shops with him to grab groceries, her favorite snacks, and maybe he does stop by a jewelry store and buy her something nice.

(casually a pair of 20k earrings)

YN fell asleep around eighty-thirty in the morning and doesn’t wake up until about nine at night, Harry had put Briar in her nursery about an hour ago.

When she does awake, Harry is sitting in the living room - watching a stupid action movie to pass time and dwell on everything.

She comes in quietly, stands in front of her husband who looks up at her with anxious eyes - she looks brighter now that she’s had adequate sleep.

“Will you hold me?” She rasps quietly, just in one of Harry’s shirts and soft pair of sleep shorts.

“Never haven t’ask, mama,” He murmurs, guiding her until she’s straddling his lap and burying her face into the crook of his neck.

His hands sneak beneath her shirt to massage the sleep-warm skin as he kisses her shoulder - over and over again.

“I’m so sorry,” YN whispers into his skin, voice croaky as she tries to not get upset.

He pulls her back to study her face, “Do not apologize, y’allowed to get mad at me and feel frustrated. You’re emotions are valid. There’s a lot going on and I could be doing more to help.”

YN wipes a tear that trickles down as she laughs in disbelief, “No, you can’t do anymore to help.”

“Wha-? I can, I promis-“

She interrupts his with a kiss before telling him sincerely, “You can’t do anymore help because you’re already doing the most amazing job. As a husband and dad. I was just tired and stressed - it’s not an excuse.”

It warms his heart, he fucking loves her so much it does make sense, has to button their lips together one more time.

“You have a really hard job too, on top of being a husband and dad. You give us all this, support us and take care of us.”

“Are y’kidding me? Y’the one who keeps this family together. Y’the fuckin’ love of my life, you know that? I love you so much, so so much,” He emphasizes, rubbing a thumb across her bottom lip.

The kiss one more time - the anger was subsided and they were okay once again.

Harry laughs and agree when YN murmurs, “S’time for bed again, m’tired.”

“Okay mama, anythin’ for you,” He responds before peppering her in kisses to make her giggle lightly.

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2021: October 12th

Day 12: Begging || Body Worship || Formal Wear

Ezra

That flash of a devilish grin is wicked, making another shiver go through you even with the desire that courses through your veins. It’s a tempting game, this little scenario that you happen to play over and over again. Cat and mouse, hunter and prey, victim and….Ezra.

You broke the rules, you knew you did. You were a bad girl and bag girls didn’t get their way, did they? You can hear the words in your head just like they had been spoken to you a thousand times before.

“What was that, little bird?” His voice, that melodic, syrupy sweet voice belies the twist of your wrist or the grunt of pain that escapes you. “I didn’t quite hear you before. The radios are so unreliable, you know. Always mucking up. You’re what?”

“Ezra, please.” You whimper, your voice pitiful and contrite. Looking up at him from the awkward angle he had put you in once he had tackled you to the ground inside your tent. “Please, I’ll be good. I promise.”

“Oh.” The pressure eases up on your wrist and the boot between your shoulder blades lifts off of you. “You’ll be good! You promise! Kevva praised!” You hear the sarcasm in his voice, the slight tut before dark glittering eyes bore down on you. “Take your helmet off.” He demands, his hands moving to his own.

The hiss of the suit depressurizing fills your ears and you see that he is doing the same. “Take your suit off.” He orders you, making you bite your lip. “I wish to look upon your bare visage, as bare as a newborn babe, when you beg.”

Another shiver races down your spine and you wonder how he will make you beg. A thrower primed at your temple while he coldly looks down on you. You know he’s killed, countless times. You’ve witnessed it, life is harsh for a floater on the Green.

Or maybe bent over his thighs, ass throbbing from the flat of his hand striking it again and again while he lectures you on why you continued to break the rules.

“Ezra-”

“Not until your body is divested of every speck of fabric, little bird. On your knees and looking up at me with that contrived innocence.” He growls, his hands working the fabric of his own suit, stripping himself down to the base layers before he starts to pull those off as well.

****

Naked and on your knees, you look up at him. The thick proud cock that makes your mouth water and your throat ache is starting to harden. Semi-soft but starting to burgeon and curl up toward the springy thatch of hair that leads down that happy little trail.

“Now birdie-”

“I’m sorry, Ezra.” You blurt out. “Please, please, please just please touch me.”

There is a dark chuckle that comes out of his mouth. “You ran, little bird. You want me to touch you when you broke the rules?” He asks, eyebrow quivering in amusement that makes the scar on his cheek move.

“I’ll be so good.” You beg. “I’ll let you fuck any hole you want, fill me, paint me with your cum just pleaseeeee Ezra, I need your touch.”

Ezra shakes his head, his hand wrapping around your chin and tilting your head up even more as he bends down slightly. “Who says I’m not going to do that anyway little bird?” He coos darkly. “Remember you aren’t in control here. I am.”

This was what he craved, the control. And you had broken the rules when you had not come back when you were supposed to, making him hunt you down. You don’t know why you do it, push him, making him disappointed in you. Well, you do, but you don’t really want to admit it to yourself that you like begging. Like pleading for his touch, his firm grip on your skin or his cock stuffing your aching pussy until you are begging again.

“Touch me please baby, I need it. I need those skilled, deadly hands on me.” You whine, making his grip on your jaw tighten deliciously and another bolt of lust flashes through your body and makes you squirm for more than just a hand on your jaw. When he finally does touch you, you will feel it for days, feel him for days and you want it like you want a fresh lungful of air without the scrubbers that whirl constantly.

“Beg.” He demands, a smirk on his face that tells you it will be hours before he thinks that you’ve pleaded enough for his liking. He lets go of your chin and you whimper when he wraps that same hand that was on your hot skin moments before around his cock. He knows you. He knows this is what you want even if you won’t admit it to him or even to yourself. That pretty little pussy weeps, dribbles onto the floor like a depraved slut while you beg for him. Flowing like a waterfall, your body betrays how much it enjoys this little game you’ve contrived for yourself. 

Never one to deny himself the pleasures that are freely offered, you created the terms of this deal just as quickly as you could set them aside. Your safe word is one that is forever locked away in his brain should you ever utter it, but not once have you come close. Nor are you likely to.

“Beg like a good girl and maybe I will forget that you broke the rules, little bird.” Achingly slow he starts to stroke himself, watching your eyes fix on the motion of his hand, the rubbing of velvet over steel and he knows you want to touch. But those are the rules, you cannot touch  him until he touches you. And he’s not going to touch you yet.

“Beg. I have yet to ascertain why my little bird flew the safety of her coop. Her gilded cage contains all the wonderosity of my touch and yet now you must beg for it like a vassal from those eons ago and I, your king must issue my edict.” He watches you squirm while he leisurely strokes his cock.

“Please Ezra, I’ll be so good.” You promise, wanting to sink your hand between your thighs and rub your clit but you can’t. “I’ll kiss and suck your cock just like you love. The way only I can do it.” Your mouth waters in anticipation. “Please Ez, I need it.”

“That’s it, little bird.” Ezra coos softly, smirking down at you. “Beg me for it.”

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