#and near the begining i was doing weekly trips at LEAST

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Hello, so this not a request per se; but seeing your reaction to the latest archon story quest, I was curious, but which nation do you think has the best story arc so far? Sumeru or Fontaine? what you like the most? Just want to hear your thoughts and opinions, that’s all.

oooh that's a good question!! i'll put my answer under the cut because it got kinda rambly and there are spoilers (i'm also quite opinionated i'm warning you now!)

in terms of a consistent plotline, i think Sumeru was better. but in terms of personal enjoyment, i liked Fontaine more.

as for why i liked Fontaine more (except the prison part, fuck that), it's for a number of reasons- i like the characters more (Arlecchino and Furina being two of my absolute favorites), the stakes felt higher and more mysterious (Sumeru i kinda figured out what Dottore and Scaramouche were doing early on), the NPC deaths hit hard because they actually stayed dead (rip Melus and Silver you two will not be forgotten), i really liked the trial aspects, and also FOUL LEGACY APPEARANCE!!!! HIGHLIGHT OF MY DAY!!!!! it also helped that Fontaine was the first archon questline to not feature the Fatui as the main bad guys, which i absolutely love

oh and i like the narwhal weekly boss better than the Scaramech boss. in fact i have a bit of a hatred for the Scaramech boss because of how it's entirely based off of the floating rabbit-thing gimmick- the only reasons i generally enjoy doing it is because A.) we're beating up Scaramouche and B.) the music slaps

Furina is also one of my favorite characters in the entire game now. she doesn't quite top Childe/Foul Legacy, Arlecchino, or Baizhu, but she's up there. i liked her from the beginning because she was goofy and dramatic, and now i think her story was beautifully written and it was something i can also relate to in a sense, although obviously not nearly on the same scale as Furina's struggles. Nahida's story was also good and very tragic, but i don't have anywhere near the same attachment to her as i do to Furina (sorry little radish)

Fontaine also brought back the trend of Fatui Harbingers actually feeling intimidating. the last time i really felt in danger around a Harbinger was Dottore, and since he wasn't the focused Harbinger of the arc i knew he wasn't going to do anything super drastic- i kinda knew Signora was going to die (still in mourning btw) and Scaramouche lost his intimidation factor when he tried to become a god, so Arlecchino being a quiet but powerful force through sheer voice and stance is very lovely

also i generally enjoy underwater exploration more than the rainforest and desert desert MORE DESERT exploration in Sumeru, so that contributes to my Fontaine bias

obviously there are some parts that could be done better, like the implementation of the narwhal boss and the plotline flowing a little better and Chlorinde definitely needing more screentime (better than Sara at least), but yeah Fontaine is my personal favorite. also the whole "erase our problems from everyone's memory" conclusion in Sumeru is kinda ehhhh, i can see why they did that but also the tree containing literally all the world's knowledge is lowkey boring and becomes a bit of a plot hole if you think about it. why couldn't we just take a little trip back to Sumeru to find out the origins of Fontaine's prophecy? i'm sure Nahida, bless her heart, would be more than happy to tell us what's up, but obviously we can't do that because it'd be too easy

i think Fontaine had higher highs and lower lows while Sumeru was consistently pretty good, so if you want a good, solid plotline to show someone, show them Sumeru. i liked Fontaine better, but that's definitely personal preference, hope that answers your question!

[supergalaxysam]

Life Update

So, here's what is happening as of this August with my life:

Learning how to use a credit card and getting used to managing one

Gained a credit score that is currently within good standing

Followed up with the real estate agent and loan officer who's been helping me with my homebuyer journey

Set myself a goal of trying to achieve 3,000USD by end of fall

Will soon be working two jobs and pulling in least 2,000USD bi-weekly; Thus will be making a minimum of around 3,000 to 4,000USD monthly

Hasn't zeroed my checking nor savings account for the first time in 3+ weeks

My living space is finally becoming clean and livable

Signed up for a gym membership

Unfortunately gained a traffic ticket

Finance

So finally it looks like I'm beginning to financially recover. It's taking longer than I was hoping, but as long as nothing drastic happens, the possibility remains realistic. I managed to make over 3,000USD in just July alone--I unfortunately couldn't keep most of the money, as much of it went to cover credit card bills, food, then a sudden vet trip. California's food stamps program (Calfresh/EBT) failed to renew my food stamps on time, so I had to rely on my own funds for food. That said, I'm happy to say I was able to hold onto some of my earnings near the end of July and into August! That alone is a big deal for myself. Additionally, I haven't hit zero in my checking and savings accounts in over three weeks. I used to hit it constantly between late 2022 and this late spring. Rarely was I able to rely on my own funds to eat--instead I was severely dependent on food stamps. I actually gained weight since spring because I'm able to finally eat without being heavily dependent on it. Being able to save money again is now finally a reality. Another huge achievement is I've been able to maintain a good credit score without accruing any credit card debt. It was exhausting work, because while the job I'm working right now is a very easy, "do nothing" job, the mental exhaustion it causes between having to stay awake and constantly drive is a lot. Currently, I'll be starting my original first job again soon. This means that between the two jobs, I should see an increase in funds. My first job has minimal hours, but pays 24USD/hour, meanwhile my second job pays 19.75USD/hour but offers 8 hours of work each shift. I should be receiving 7 hours of work from my first job, and receiving nearly 40 hours of work from my second weekly. Thus, I'll begin making around 3,700USD a month which is exciting! I've never made that much before. My goal for this fall will be to save up 3,000USD, then try saving an additional 7,000USD by February 2025. I hope to one day acquire a job that pays me 6,000USD a month, but least I'm getting there. In the meantime, I plan on working at artist alleys as a third job in the future once I've gotten a booth set up and ready.

Homeownership

There currently isn't too much to say on this front, other than what has been left as bullet notes. I've talked to the real estate agent and loan officer I've been keeping contact with, and their current advice is for me to keep asking them any questions I have for them, and to save my money and wait till spring. I've been advised to look at homebuyers' assistance programs in spring, and there's several that were suggested to me that I'll research later.

Health

It's no secret that my health, specifically my mental health, has made such a severe dip that it ruined my relationships. In fact, for the first time in years, my mental health dipped so bad, my living conditions for myself and my pets became a nightmare. I feel too humiliated and embarrassed to share how bad my environment has been till recently, just know that it reached a point where people asked how I hadn't fallen ill. I'm not in the mental space to comfortably tell people about how I was living in a severe pigsty for so long, and I don't want anyone asking me nor making rhetoric about it. I don't feel like I've reached a point where I feel mentally stable enough to try and befriend people again nor build new relationships. I'm introverted, but have become so isolated and lonely that I don't mind talking to people at all, and have even reached out to help others. But all my talks are kept quite short, as I don't want anything beyond acquaintances. I've gone through too much in too short of a timespan to have the heart to accept any new kind of relationship beyond platonic mutualism. I constantly have bad dreams of relationships being destroyed, and myself being exiled from social groups, regardless of if I can recognize the people in the dreams as peers or just strangers. That said, the uptick in finance has allowed me to focus on cleaning. I've gotten rid of any belongings I didn't need anymore alongside any litter that had been sitting around for ages. I ended up spending much of my summer earnings on buying cleaning supplies, replacing old bedding and clothes that were falling apart, buying new soap, etc. because so much was either falling apart or was in sparse supply. I can now finally have consistent fresh bedding, I now have fresh undergarments and socks, I finally have more than one or two pairs of pants. It makes a big difference. I also can finally afford a gym membership again. I haven't been able to attend a gym since 2019, and I'm indeed out of shape. Exercises and exercise machines that I could easily breeze through are now a major hurdle that I can only briefly do. I'm still able to last 30 minutes luckily, but it will take time for myself to rebuild what was lost. Ever since I've gone further changes via HRT, my relationship with my physical body has become very awkward and dysmorphic. I have strong abdominal muscles and some musculature in my arms and shoulders, but not much elsewhere within my upper body, especially my chest. Since I haven't been able to build much muscle within my chest, and that region was surgically operated on (top surgery), a mix of fat and muscle was removed from my body, thus leaving me very flat. Visually, this results in an awkward look where it looks like I have a very large belly and/or scoliosis from the side whereas the reality is I happen to have a broad rib cage, a big ass, thick legs, and a strong abdominal wall, but a very flat chest and not much else to balance the appearance. I want to bulk up to have large muscular pecs and a well toned upper body to help balance out the appearance.

Traffic Ticket

I received a traffic ticket this Wednesday. It was for unsafe lane change, which was caused by me being tired from my overnight shift, and trying to attempt a lane change on the freeway and onto an off ramp so I could get breakfast and go home. I was very foolish and nowhere lucid enough to notice I performed this lane change right in front of a highway officer. I also had been driving for an hour too, and while I managed to somewhat endure the drive, my lucidity fell apart near the end. Luckily, my court hearing is scheduled months away from now, and the ticket fine won't be charged to me till around two weeks from now. Therefore I least have time to prepare for the worst. I am very concerned about the fine costs, as it could easily be just not the fine itself, but any additional costs issued by the court. It'll be a major problem if the total ends up being any more than 500USD for myself since it's only now I've just begun to pick myself off the ground finance-wise. I'll look into having my shift schedule changed later so I won't need to do overnight shifts, and also have Tuesday and Saturday off.

It's late right now, so I'm petering out while writing this. Goodnight.

[thelukaskaiser]

Keep Going

Lukas’ Blog - January 1, 2023 - 5:30PM

Blogging isn’t really a thing anymore, but that isn’t going to deter me from re-starting this one. Sorry about that. I know it’s been a minute since you’ve engaged with one, so I’ll forgive you if you’ve forgotten what to say or do. Let’s just sit here for a moment and relish in the fact that we’re still alive - and both old enough to remember “blogging.” 

I remember the first time I found a “blog” - it was in 1999 - and I found the Livejournal of a graphic designer I really liked who was living in New York City. And in 1999, I was living in Milwaukee, Wisconsin - on the East Side, near UWM. If you’ve seen the movie American Movie, the place where Mark edits his film was about a block from my house. 

And in 1999, I was a hyper creative high school senior, 17 years old and entering into his final year of school, hoping to be accepted (early acceptance) to NYU so he could pursue his dreams of becoming a filmmaker / comedian / media person (which, hey, I was able to achieve - so that’s damn cool). 

And I was into comic books and indie toys and cool stuff and there was this plush toy I bought through Giant Robot magazine - which was a wildly influential magazine on my sensibilities and likes at the time (and hell, probably still is) - and the plush toy came in the mail and the tag to the toy had a URL to the artist’s blog. 

Not “Vlog” but blog. Because you couldn’t really host videos at the time. I mean, it wasn’t that normal for people to have websites either. I had a couple sites - I had taught myself how to make stuff in HTML - but I had never seen a blog before. It was a LiveJournal - and I was absolutely stunned. Blown away. 

Because I just sat there for days on end and read about this artist’s life. Mundane things and important things, triumphs and tribulations - and I was absolutely enthralled. That I could just see how a normal person lived - and lived, in particular, in New York City. Because that was where I wanted to live. 

And I would write down on paper the places the artist would go to - the restaurants, the stores, the bars. And I would just dream - dream I was with him - and feel less alone. 

Blogging wasn’t ever something I kept up regularly, but as a consumer, man, did I absolutely love the Blog era. I mean, we talk about Twitter and independent journalists and all that - but in the mid 2000s, I worked for and ran several blogs. And we were making REAL money - off of advertising and merch and other stuff - and it was a grind, but it was an honest one. And we had our own audiences and fans - and some of those people who became fans of mine from that era still follow my work to this day. It’s a trip. 

So, I’ve decided to blog again. In short bursts and longer bursts too. I don’t really care how many people read the “blog” per se - though it is important for me to publish these entries. I think that in addition to my various daily / weekly journals I keep for myself - my morning pages, which are like a brain dump right when I wake up, along with my “Simple Diary” - which is a regularly updated, quite personal record of my life for the last couple years or so, I want to begin to craft a public persona - one that I’m okay with sharing with complete strangers. 

I had a call with someone about a potential project - something I don’t want to share yet. And on the call, we began to talk about my experience in media and the entertainment industry and it was clear that I really don’t write down or share with anyone my experience. 

Now - that’s sort of normal to me? I feel like most people don’t document their lives - or at least they used to not? I suppose social media has turned us all into oversharers, certainly. But like, if you go to Facebook and look at some of the connections you have from your hometown - there are a lot of people who haven’t posted on their social media pages in years. Because this constant deluge of personal information isn’t normal. 

And, look, am I normal? No. I’ve always had a skewed perspective on life. I have pushed myself to self promote at many times throughout my life. It’s just that the last couple of jobs I had - my current gig at Westbrook and my previous gig at Viacom - were both sort of “insider” roles that worked best when no one knew the roles existed. The Viacom one was in part because there was a ton of writing we were doing - a lot of it comedy writing - but we weren’t part of the WGA, even though our shows were all signed to the union. 

We were just nameless / faceless “Creatives” - sort of ad agency model. 

And at Westbrook, working with public figures to craft their digital brands and personas is a very behind the scenes role. If you’re doing your job right, the public figure you work for seems to be generating this content and this digital brand from thin air, seemingly effortlessly so. 

Which - at times, is true (okay that’s never true). But at times it’s like, well if I tooted my own horn here, it would actually hurt my whole business model. 

Now - we have evolved what we do at Westbrook Media a considerable amount - yes we still help some public figures with their social media, but we mostly get paid to MAKE CONTENT. And I think just about anyone would know that making content takes a lot of effort - both hard effort - like writing and planning and editing and shooting and all that - as well as soft effort - like strategic thinking and positioning and making sure your clients are making the RIGHT content and not just making what they think is going to be hot. 

And I’ve realized that in both the hard and soft labors at my current gig - managing an incredible team of creatives who are truly some of the smartest and most innovative thinkers I’ve ever been able to work with - it doesn’t help anyone for me, as the boss, to set the example of being the humble behind the scenes guy. Because then everyone feels the pressure to have that dance - should I take credit? Should I not? 

It’s tough! But rather than “take credit” I think I want to try to begin to focus my energies on exploring the things I’m struggling with - the things I’m excited about - and using my work, and my experience, and my day to day life (with a lot of discretion) as the medium to explore these topics, knowing that my life may be a good example for other people. 

So - this is to say I’m excited to be back in the business of writing and publishing written content in this space. I will likely attempt to turn these posts into audio / video things as well at some point, though my space is not clean enough or well laid out at the moment, and the anxiety of showing off my messiness would be too great to bear and I’d explode into a million pieces or something. 

Regardless, I am in my space - and I am lucky to have a space to create things in. Both in my professional as well as my personal / creative life. And I do not take that for granted. 

I remember quite clearly the five years when I was living in my mom’s attic, working from home, constantly grinding to try to freelance and publish content and become a writer - and how painful it all felt - and how isolating it all was. 

Look - people definitely can go longer than five years to try to crack through - and I had some positive experience mixed in with those painful ones - but from when I graduated college, in 2004, until I landed as a junior writer/producer at Spike TV in 2009, I can say without a doubt I skated quite close to the edge of fully giving up on my dreams. And every time I tried to pursue something BIG or CREATIVE or IMPORTANT - like the screenplay I wrote with my former boss, or my stage play, or the podcasts I tried to launch at the time, or the sketches or digital content I was trying to submit, or the numerous late night TV packets I was writing and submitting every single day - it would always blow up in my face. 

Now, looking back, it was amazing that none of that stuff worked out - because I was clearing out my mind of all the horrible, bad ideas I carried around with me while getting the experience of DOING THE WORK… 

I was learning how to write screenplays and how to direct videos and edit and all that - skills I still use to this day, in a much more professional setting - but learning how to do those things in practical ways that school could never teach you. And thankfully, none of my output was good, so the cringe-y and stupid ideas I was churning out will hopefully never be seen by anyone. 

I can look back at my isolation and loneliness and anger at that time with fondness - knowing that I was growing so quickly, even though it didn’t feel like it. 

And maybe you’re at home, feeling like you’re hitting your head against a wall over and over again - maybe you’re publishing content that no one seems to care about, or you’re applying to job after job and no one cares. It SUCKS. I know what that feels like. 

But if you can somehow orient your mind around gaining those SOFT SKILLS in the process - and understanding that a few years of obscurity will allow you to be BETTER - well maybe it won’t be so painful all the time. 

The surprises in store for us in 2023 are going to be painful - it’s going to be extra hard for people to get things SEEN and to get things MADE. Our normal modes of selling content, our normal ways of distributing things to audiences - it’s all going to feel so lost and so pointless. So we damn well better focus on the GROWTH and not the SUCCESS. Because otherwise, I’m telling you, every day is gonna feel more painful than the last. 

And the goal of making stuff is to feel less painful - less judged, less alone. So if the stuff you’re making is just making you feel more lonely, more rejected, it’s gonna push you to give up your dreams. And that would be a damn tragedy. Because you never know who’s moved by your stuff - you never know who needs an encouraging word. You never know who’s at their wit’s end and feels utterly isolated and alone. 

Yknow, how I felt less alone as a teenager in Milwaukee, reading those entries back in 1999. In some ways, all the therapy and personal work I’ve done to transform myself over the last 2 or so years has done something remarkable - it’s made me actually REMEMBER more. And it’s given me a helluva lot of empathy for myself in those vulnerable and quieter moments. 

I kept a diary after I fell in love with blogging, with the hope of turning it into a blog one day. It was the year 2000 and I was a Freshman at NYU at that point. I lived on 10th street and Broadway in a dorm called Brittany Hall. Which at the time was the only dorm with no air conditioning.

We lived in these big, concrete rooms - 3 of us, me and my two roommates. And we were all so hopelessly depressed and horny. Wanting to meet new people - yearning for life - knowing we were at the precipice of a new life experience (which ultimately was 9/11 - which happened the next year - we just didn’t know it yet). 

And I kept this journal - and the entries were PAINFUL. They were overwrought and filled to the margins with grumpiness and sourness and angst and WANT and DESIRE. 

But they were fucking VULNERABLE too. And as I began to make friends - I had a sketch group from the Upright Citizens Brigade and we would hang out at Max Fish - and I had a job teaching kids writing and reading and became friends with my co-workers - and I got an internship at Mass Appeal magazine, and joined The Plague - our college humor magazine - as I began to form a more confident persona, I would look back at those vulnerable journal entries and WRETCH from embarrassment. 

And when I graduated from college, I hid those journals for a while - until one day, actually in 2010, a year after getting my “break” in the industry and in the process of moving from Long Island (where my mother had been living - long story, she moved from Milwaukee) to Brooklyn (to the place I still live in to this day in BK), I took the notebooks and, instead of packing them, I tore the pages of the diary entries to shreds and threw them in the trash. 

Because I was mortified that I was ever that lonely and desperate and in pain. Because it had been so long since I had felt that way. 

But now, 13 years later, I’m really, really mad at myself for having done that. Pain is a real feeling. We don’t find ourselves confronting “real” things that often. And I wish I could look back and thumb the spines of those notebooks and glaze my finger over my handwriting - which hasn’t changed in decades - and try to connect with that little boy who was in pain - and tell him it’s going to be okay. Because it was going to be okay - it was okay. He ended up being just fine. 

And I disrespected him by throwing away his journal entries. The ones he cared about. 

Which I forgive myself for doing, but man, do I regret having done that. We don’t so often leave ourselves a trail of bread crumbs back to our past experiences. So when we do - when we write in journals or keep up a blog or whatever - we’ve gotta cherish those things and let them be. 

This “blog” doesn’t have to be anything other than a dumping ground for missives and dumb ideas - again, a place where I can quietly shape my public persona, which I so desperately need to craft and then use for the next chapter of my life. 

But I’m not going to disrespect the space. I promise myself that now. 

Anyways, I’m going to do some other writing now - this was honestly really nice. Hopefully I can keep it up - and perhaps it’ll be something you find useful or helpful or interesting. And if not, then I’m sorry. 

By the way, the artist whose livejournal I fell in love with was Mumbleboy. It looks like his early entries are gone, just like my old journals.

[wheezingghoulbois]

i am in awe of how hyper-specific ur disney knowledge is that you KNOW that the sword in the stone attraction is right next to that particular carousel. like ma'am ... howw. also you know what that carousel is called??? but it's just horses???? HOW?? i bow before our disney sovereign - gay shoes anon

alskfjaslkfjalksfjalksfj okay there’s only 1 carousel ride in disneyland (and one in California Adventure, it’s sister park but its a toy story western theme so it looks VERY different), and disneyland’s is called King Arthur’s Carousel, hence the sword in the stone thing right in front of it! but i know where ryan is in that photo just because like... okay the line for the ride wraps around the side of the carousel, as well as the fact its smack in the middle of fantasyland so theres a LOT of foot traffic so he can’t of been on the sides of the ride, And theres a clearing FOR photo shoots right next to the sword in the stone, so... that’s where he is💖 i also know disneyland bricks... and floors.... dont ask alskfjalksjfklaksf. i have literally probably around 500+ trips to disney under my belt like disneyland hates me bc im the passholder who they dont make money off of bc i USE the shit out of my pass and dont buy merch or food unless i have a gift card or im like starving. i appreciate ur awe but truly it just comes from me literally going to the park Too Much alfkjalksfjlaksf. genuinely i could walk around disney blindfolded and be fine. i have definitely helped lost families find their way to attractions, bathrooms, meet and greets etc lmao.and have helped folks score those rise of the resistance aka the big star wars ride boarding passes bc some ppl just Don’t Know u need the app and to have ur tickets linked and have to be there AT park opening and have to get onto the app a certain way to boost ur chances like it’s difficult lmao (also That is why ryan hasn’t ridden rise yet like he’s mention he tried but failed bc yeah it takes prep, knowledge, and luck lmao)

[tippedbykreider]

it’s all coming back to me | c. kreider (i)

Word Count: 8.2k Warnings: Slow burn, exes to friends to lovers, relationship breakdown, swearing, alcohol mention. Author’s Note: So many of you have been requesting for this to be brought back! The consensus was that you’d rather have it in smaller chunks so I’ll be posting each new part weekly and they’ll come in between 6 & 9k per chapter. Not only is it more manageable for you guys but it also gives me chance to keep writing new content for it 💖 There is a playlist for this fic which I posted separately, it gives a chronological feel for their relationship and their story. This has been a tonne of fun to write so far and I can’t wait to tell the rest of their story. Summary: Chris Kreider x Reader Insert. They say that all good things come to an end, that you can never have too much of a good thing, but when Chris decided to end your relationship you wondered how anything could ever be good again. A chance meeting 9 years later drags up all those feelings you both thought you were done with. Can you work through your hurt and pain to see what it is that Chris is trying to show you? Or are some things better left forgotten? Tagging: @danglesnipecelly - this girl deserves a writing credit on this thing because she’s pushed me to keep going with this and her input and advice has been invaluable. Thank you for all the support on this one, K 💖

*Italics indicates a flashback*

The notion of fresh starts is often something that is associated with the arrival of the New Year. People use the turning of the calendar to turn over a new leaf, to learn a new skill, to challenge themselves to be better than the year before and to let go of all that was and focus on all that will be. There’s something inherently magical about a new beginning, a fresh start; sometimes it’s the excitement of what might lie ahead and other times it’s the comfort in knowing that you can seize the opportunity be whoever you want to be and to reinvent yourself. It’s the line in the sand and the final full stop at the end of the chapter and it’s the anticipation of picking up the pen and writing those first few words on the new page.

For Chris Kreider this feeling wasn’t one that was brought about by the strike of the clock at midnight on New Year’s Eve because while the date on the calendar changed and while he still spent the next couple of weeks dating things with the wrong year just like everybody else, it still often felt like nothing really changed for him. Chris could only feel like the year was truly coming to an end when the first petals of spring exploded like fireworks in a symphony of technicolour blooms and he found himself giving the locker-room clearout interview. That was the end of the year, the full stop, the line and the warmer days and the balmy nights would give him the opportunity to decompress ready for the turning of the page come September when his focus would once again turn back to hockey.

Chris loved New York; that much was undeniably true. He loved the vibrancy of the city but he also loved the way that he could melt into the background or enjoy the feeling of quiet solace his apartment gave him. It was oftentimes a bolthole, an oasis of peace during an otherwise hectic few months between September and May but the end of the hockey season and the arrival of summer had him seeking the cry of gulls on the breath of a gentle breeze and that crisp, purifying sea air that always managed to fill his lungs differently. Rowayton wasn’t far, a little over an hour on a good day but with its coastal Connecticut charm, slower pace and pretty houses, especially the ones that overlooked the water, it was a world away from NYC and exactly what Chris needed to reset and recharge.

It was a Saturday morning in mid-July and for the first time in a long time, longer than Chris could recall, he allowed himself to sleep in. His bedroom window had been open all night and the welcome breeze snaked through the slats in the blinds and carried on it the faintest smell of salt and sunshine. Chris stretched his muscles in big pulls around the bed before he settled on his back and inhaled deeply, the fresh air clearing his mind and filling his body as the last remnants of sleep slipped away on the exhale of breath. Imbued with energy, he climbed out of bed and pulled the blinds all the way up, flooding the bedroom with beautiful incandescence born out of a cloudless sky. He didn’t make his bed though, not yet, because while he had left his room and was padding down the stairs, he had every intention of returning to the still warm sheets to read a chapter or two of the book on his nightstand with a fresh cup of coffee, a cinnamon and raisin bagel, that invigorating coastal air and the oceanscape outside as the soundtrack.

One chapter turned into two and two became three and before Chris knew it, the sun was high in the sky and lunchtime beckoned. It was shaping up to be a beautiful summer day in Rowayton and Chris thought it would be a crying shame to spend his time at home, even if the page-turner he’d held in his hands moments ago seemed incredibly appealing out on the back deck overlooking the water. It was then he decided to take advantage of that gorgeous sunshine, take in the scenery and stretch his legs by going for a walk into town to pick up a few essentials at Rowayton Market. For all it was a small, it contained everything he would need to keep him going for a few more days until he’d finally need to drive into Norwalk to do a more substantial grocery shop, something that he’d admittedly been putting off. The Market also had some of the best baked goods and fresh coffee in the village and if you asked Chris it would be pretty rude to not take advantage – it was right there, after all, and Chris never could say no to a still-warm Danish and Americano.

He walked slower than he usually would, a conscious effort on his part due to the fact that his legs seemed to want to go into an auto-pilot primed for life in New York City. He was in no rush though, he never was whenever he came here and even though it was a route he’d walked hundreds of times before, and one he would walk hundreds more, Chris still wanted to soak in all the pretty trees and shrubs that were nestled in amongst those classical New England style homes, all shingled exteriors and white, gridded windows in soft muted colours that mirrored the coastal landscape of the village. It was a world away from the brick and the concrete and the bright lights of the city and while Chris loved all of those things about New York and loved wandering through the streets of Tribeca and Soho, getting lost in bookstores and hole-in-the-wall cafes, he also loved the sand, shale and stars and those were things that he just couldn’t find in the city that never slept.

There were quite a few people out and about, Chris noted, most of them he recognised as being residents with their friendly smiles and waved greetings, but there were a handful of tourists too; there always was on weekends during the summer. Not that Chris minded, of course, because for all the village was a popular escape for those seeking a break from the metropolitan life of the nearby hub of cities, it never succumbed to the all-too-often inevitability of commercialisation and still managed to hold on to its peaceful charm, despite it not quite being the quaint fishing village it once was back in the days before the Civil War.

It was one of the reasons why Chris found himself retreating here in the summer and not making the trip back home to spend the off-season in Massachusetts. He would go back to Boxford for a couple of weeks, naturally, because family was something that had always been important to Chris and he would never miss an opportunity to spend time with his parents and sister, but if he had the choice between spending his entire summer being bitten to death by mosquitoes back home (his father always did say that they were the town bird, after all) or feeling the gentle kiss of the ocean breeze against his skin, there was no real contest. Rowayton would always win.

The main street through town was busier, which wasn’t exactly unexpected and if anything it only seemed to add to the charm of the village. Chris decided to head straight to the market to pick up his groceries, if only to facilitate the Danish eating in a more timely-fashion. He picked up a basket as he entered and proceeded to add only the essentials he’d need to get him through the next couple of days. He’d pay for his shopping before going to the coffee bar, because trying to pack his reusable grocery bag with a full takeout cup was a mistake he’d made once before and was sure to never repeat again.

With his groceries purchased and bags packed in such a way that the couple of bottles of wine he’d picked up wouldn’t clink together when he walked (it was three to be exact but after seeing the selection of cured meats, cheeses and olives available he thought it’d be a crime if they didn’t find their way into his basket to come home with him, and if there was cheese there had to be wine), Chris made his way to the coffee counter situated near the Market entrance.

*

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d taken a trip away without the company of anyone else but the last couple of months at work had been incredibly stressful, with projects seemingly coming out of your ears and while you knew your mother had been worried by your suggestion of taking off somewhere alone for the weekend, she also knew better than to fight you on something you’d quite clearly already set your mind to. If you were being completely honest, your plans for the first full weekend you’d had off in months would have consisted of not setting foot outside of your apartment or engaging in any kind of unnecessary conversation had you decided to stay home in Hartford, at least this way you’d be getting some fresh air and the sun on your face.

It was just shy of a two hour drive down to Rowayton, which had the dual benefit of being close enough to home that it didn’t feel like a huge trek just to get there, but also being far enough away that you would be a complete stranger in this town and could take the time to decompress and recharge while blending into the background, and the place was pretty to boot. You’d found a little studio Airbnb not too far away in South Norwalk, figuring that you’d only be using it as somewhere to sleep as you’d planned on spending as much of your time as possible being right by that ocean with the wind in your hair and the warm sun on your skin.

That’s how you’d planned on spending your Saturday afternoon, sat on the sand of Bayley Beach with a good book and a cup of coffee. It was set to be a balmy day, with temperatures sitting in the mid-eighties and the last thing you wanted to be doing in the heat was any amount of excessive walking. So with that in mind, you’d spent your morning exploring the village and taking in the sights and sounds. The gentle protest of your stomach told you it was lunchtime before you’d even taken the opportunity to glance down at your watch and a quick Google search pointed you in the direction of somewhere to get that all important cup of coffee and a small bite to eat.

Rowayton Market didn’t look like much from the outside in the sense that it was a little on the petite side, but the reviews were great and the coffee was allegedly some of the best in the village and that was good enough for you. You were greeted with the smell of freshly baked goods and ground coffee, which was welcoming enough before you even saw the bright smile of the girl behind the counter. Your eyes drifted over the selection of pastries, each one more delicious looking than the last and you knew that you were going to have a hard time choosing just one. You knew you’d have to make a decision, though, suddenly aware of the small line that had seemingly materialised right out of thin air behind you and while you were sure that these people were more accustomed to a slower pace of life, the city girl in you, who was so used to living life in the fast lane, didn’t want to keep these good people waiting while you deliberated. You’d go with your usual and that would be that.

Chris’s attention was fixed out of the large glass windows at the front of the shop, watching as people milled in the street and went about their daily business. It was something he quite often did, whether he was here or back home in New York. There was something oddly soothing about watching the world go by, he thought, and occasionally he’d catch something that would quirk his lips up into a smile, like the sight before him now of a rather large gull in the process of committing larceny against what he could only assume was an unsuspecting tourist. Their sandwich was held high above their head while their free hand attempted to shoo the bird away with little success. He chuckled quietly to himself then, not least because the gulls seemed to get more brazen with each year that passed and he was sure that one of these days he’d see someone’s lunch get snatched right out of their hand by the feathered menaces.

Chris had no reason at all to believe as he stood in that line that everything was about to change. Why would he? The day had started like any other. He’d picked up his groceries in this store more times than he could count, he’d waited in a line just like this one for his coffee and Danish and yet, in that moment, something as innocuous as a woman’s voice would bring feelings that he thought he was done with, and memories he thought had strayed out of his mind for good, flooding back to the surface. But it wasn’t just any woman’s voice, no, it wasn’t as detached and neutral as that. It was your voice; a voice he hadn’t heard in nine years and it was something as simple as a coffee order, an order that he now knew to have remained the same since the day you’d first met at Boston College all those years ago, that blew the dam wide open and every word the two of you had ever spoken, from day one to the last thing you ever said to him, came rushing back.

The sound of Chris’s voice calling your name was something you never thought you’d hear out loud again. It was a voice you’d only heard in your dreams for many years after he walked out of your life, but even that had faded beyond memory to where you weren’t a hundred percent certain that you’d be able to remember what it sounded like anymore. And yet, in the middle of a tiny supermarket in Rowayton, you heard him clear as day with his tongue rolling around the syllables of your name with the same fondness, even after all this time and it was like you’d never forgotten the sound at all.

*

Autumn was beginning to make her presence felt in Boston. The palette on campus had shifted from a spectrum of vivid greens to shades of deep russet, amber, ochre and vermillion; but even above the changing leaves, the turning of the calendar brought a slight chill to the air that had you reaching for your jacket on a morning as you left your dorm.

Today was no different. The temperature had dropped again overnight as November creeped ever closer and it was chilly enough that you had to draw your coat tighter around you as you walked across campus towards class. Your brisk pace had bought you enough time to make a stop at the coffee stand just outside of Campion where your first class of the day was being held. There was a decent selection on offer, but it wasn’t enough to sway you from ordering your usual.

You rooted around your backpack for your wallet while the barista prepared your coffee and grabbed you your cinnamon roll, unaware of the new presence to your right, before handing over the money and taking the coffee and pastry bag from the young man’s hands.

“Coffee and cinnamon roll, eh? Now that’s the breakfast of champions.”

You turned your head towards the source of the voice, lips quirking into a small smile at the sight of the stranger beside you who looked to be not much older than you were, incredibly tall and broad for his apparent age but not for his height. He was grinning at you with a fullness that made his eyes crinkle at the corners and gave him a unique kind of softness.

“My mom would disagree,” you replied with a smirk. “If she found out I was having this for breakfast she’d be in her car so fast and dragging my ass back to Hartford.”

He laughed at that, loud and bright with his head tipped back slightly before running a hand through his dark brown hair that was shorter on the sides but had the faintest hint of a curl at the longer strands on top.

“I won’t tell her if you don’t.”

“Oh, I’m definitely not telling her,” you grinned as you swung your backpack over one shoulder. “So looks like you’re sworn to secrecy.”

You studied him for a brief moment, with the way he was still grinning at you and his eyes that seemed to sparkle behind his dark lashes before your brain gently reminded you that you, in fact, had somewhere you needed to be. “Well, I hate to impose a vow of silence on you like some sort of mafia boss and then immediately split but I uh I gotta head to class.”

“No problem at all and hey, your secret is safe with me. In fact, I’ve forgotten already. What were we talking about?”

There it was again, that smile of his that made you want to stay rooted right where you were standing and look at it all day, but class beckoned and so you gave an awkward wave of your hand and a soft laugh before you turned and headed into the building behind you without another glance back. If you had you’d have seen the stranger from the coffee stand watch until you’d disappeared from view, with that smile still on his face.

This little routine of yours would continue over the course of the next few weeks. Every Tuesday morning, at around 8:45am, you’d find yourself stood at that coffee stand outside of Campion to get your coffee and cinnamon roll, and every Tuesday morning, at around 8:46am, the tall stranger would appear beside you with his kind eyes and his bright smile. You’d exchange a ‘hello’ and a friendly grin and you’d laugh more often than not too while you made pleasant small talk before you both said your goodbyes and went to your respective classes, though you would always leave first and he would watch you go until you’d disappeared into the building.

It was mid-November, now, and the campus of Boston College was firmly in autumn’s frigid grasp. The temperatures continued to drop, seemingly overnight, which had you bundled up in your hat and scarf and the trees had shed their branches of leaves, crunching underfoot with the slight frost as you made your way towards Campion. Your hands were shoved deep into your coat pockets to ward off the gnawing chill and you were looking forward to being able to warm them around your coffee cup.

You approached the stand as normal, rooting through your backpack for your wallet ready to order.

“Hey!”

You looked up, your features fixed in a state of mild confusion while you looked for the source of the voice you recognised but couldn’t quite place. It was then you saw him though, all bright eyed and bushy tailed with a medium coffee and pastry bag held up in one of his large hands as if on display. He was grinning at you and cocked his head, beckoning you over with the wordless gesture.

“Hey, yourself,” you smiled as you approached. “What’s this then?” You tilted your head slightly at the items in his hand as he offered them to you.

“Breakfast of champions.”

Your eyebrow quirked as you took the coffee from him before taking a tentative sip, smiling while the warm liquid slid down your throat.

“You got my coffee order right.”

“It wasn’t hard,” he smirked. “You order the same thing every week and if you open that little paper bag I think you’ll find a cinnamon roll in there.”

Sure enough, as you opened the bag you were greeted with the sight of a perfectly formed cinnamon roll and you couldn’t help the grin that sparked at your lips and spread the full width of your face.

“I don’t order the same thing every week.”

“You do,” he replied with a laugh. “Every Tuesday for the last 5 weeks you’ve come to this coffee stand and ordered a medium Americano with half and half and a cinnamon roll and every Tuesday for the last 5 weeks I’ve been meaning to ask you your name.”

Your face flushed warm at that, not only at his words but at the sure little smile he was giving you and the way his eyes were sparkling. In fact, now that you were really looking at him properly, you were knocked back a bit by the perpetual kindness that seemed to rest in them and you couldn’t help but notice how they really were the perfect shade of hazel, like a forest with a deep bark heart surrounded by leaves that were every shade of green. You’d been quiet a little too long though and so you took a settling sip of coffee to give you enough time to find your voice again and tell him your name.

“Nice to meet you,” he smiled as he offered you his hand, which was large and warm as you shook it.

“And who should I thank for the coffee?” you asked.

His smile grew into a grin then, the kind that you’d noticed over the course of the last few weeks that made his eyes crinkle and happiness radiate from him, before simply replying:

“Chris.”

*

“Chris?”

It was as if time had stood still in that little Market in Rowayton, where your surroundings become a still-frame and there’s nothing but static in your ears. You’d often thought about what it would have been like to see him again. Those first couple of years after he’d left Boston College had you imagining all kinds of scenarios, much like the one you were in right now where you’d bump into each other in a supermarket or a pharmacy, anywhere really, but now that you were living it, seeing it, breathing it, there was nothing you could have conjured up in your imagination that would have prepared you for what it would really feel like to see him again. If you were to be completely honest, you were glad that your coffee and cinnamon roll were still on the top of the counter because you were certain that they would have fallen right out of your hands and onto the Market floor.

He abandoned his position in the line then, as if you speaking his name was a call to him, and maybe it was, on some level, but the truth and simplicity of it was that you were suspended in a state of pure disbelief and even in the short time it took for him to close the distance between you both, you were still yet to move and fix your features to something more neutral.

“Hey.”

It was a simple greeting that he gave you and logically you knew that there wasn’t really any tangible meaning behind that single word he spoke and yet there was something about the look in his eyes and the warmth in the smile he gave you.

“It’s been a while.”

“It has,” you replied, finally finding your voice. “You look, you look good.”

It wasn’t a lie either, he did look good. The tall college boy you remembered, who was just a little too slight for his height, had filled out; you could tell that just from the way the fabric of his t-shirt stretched across the broad plains of his chest and strained around his biceps, and he was no longer clean shaven, which was something that had always made him look quite baby-faced. Instead he was sporting a neatly trimmed goatee and while he had kept his hair short on the sides, just like you’d remembered it, it was longer on the top than it had been in college and the curls were sweeping in a way that reminded you of the waves just beyond the Market door. He looked older, yes, which is exactly what you would have expected in the nine years since you’d last seen him but his eyes were still exactly the same, sparkling and full of mischief , yet still soft, perhaps even softer than before on account of the faint lines around them drawn by time’s fair hand.

“So do you,” he grinned. “You cut your hair.”

“I did,” you looked down as your face flushed with warmth, unsure exactly what you were supposed to say to him.

It was something you’d thought about during those imagined scenarios where you’d magically bump into each other again and you’d thought about all of the things that you would say to him. You would tell him about how much you’d cried when he left you behind to live out his boyhood dream and how angry you were that he didn’t want you to be a part of that, how it felt like all the plans you’d ever talked about were nothing more than empty words and how hurt that had made you feel. You felt like you at least deserved that, especially given that it was never just a casual fling between you both. After all, you’d been practically inseparable for two years. You’d been inseparable ever since he’d said those three words that mean so much. But now that he was here in front of you, all those words that had swirled around in your head and in your chest like a hurricane for so long, dissipated into nothing and you found yourself clutching at straws to find something, anything, to say.

Chris could sense this though. Of course he could because he was Chris and he had always been so in tune with you and your emotions and the fact that he was still able to read you so well was both a comfort and a knife in your chest, and while he internally grimaced at the fact he was having to fall back on using small talk between you both, he felt like it was what you needed in the moment. He wouldn’t expect things to go back to how they were after all this time, he couldn’t, and so he started with something simple, something he knew you would be able give him an answer to.

“So, what brings you to sunny Rowayton?”

“I could ask you the same question,” you replied.

“Ah,” Chris grinned, trying to keep the mood light. “See I asked you first and also, I live here so therefore the ‘question answering’ responsibility falls back to you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, at both his words and the silly little expression he was wearing and despite all the years that sat between you both like a void and all of your hurt that was held within it, it all seemed to briefly melt away and in that moment it was like you were back at that little coffee stand outside of Campion.

“I didn’t realise this was an interrogation. Wait is this one of those little weird cult towns? Should I be worried?”

Chris knew by the little smirk you were wearing that you meant no malice behind your words and so he responded by sucking in air through his teeth before speaking again with one of those smiles that went all the way up to his eyes.

“Watch it, Pickle.”

Your stomach fell right into your shoes in that moment, that name he used only for you slipped from his lips like it was the easiest thing in the world for him to do, like he’d never stopped calling you it and like it hadn’t been nine years since you’d last spoke a word to one another. Chris knew all this of course and he didn’t need to rely on intuition either because he could see every emotion written all over your face.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly on the exhale of a breath. “I um.. Force of habit, I guess.”

“It’s okay,” you muttered, not quite meeting his eyes. “Although not exactly ‘habit’, it’s been how long?”

Chris winced at that, the reality of how he left things between you both slapping him in the face and he was filled with the guilt that he’d spent almost a decade pushing out of his chest and shoving into the darkest corner of his memory where he would hope it would rest undisturbed. He knew that you were angry at him for leaving things the way he did, how could you not be? After all, he was the one who had broken your heart and left you in Boston, but it was never as simple as that, even back then there was so much he should have said but that was something he wouldn’t realise until much later when it was too late to repair the damage. The thinly veiled hurt in your eyes and the way your mouth was downturned was demonstrative of that fact.

“I know,” he all but whispered. “It just-“

“It’s fine, Chris. Can we just forget about it? Please?”

He nodded, watching with a quiet kind of sadness on his features as you turned to finally pick your coffee and cinnamon roll up off the counter before he cleared his throat softly to continue speaking.

“You never did say what brought you into town.”

You took a sip of coffee to give yourself long enough to settle the thundering in your chest before answering him, because for all your heart felt like it was about to burst from all the hurt you’d managed to hide away up until now, there was also a weird sense of nostalgia that came with seeing him and hearing his voice again, and even though he’d shattered your heart completely when he decided he no longer wanted you in his life, your mother had raised you right and you knew the proper thing to do was to indulge him in a little small talk, even if for nothing more than old time’s sake.

“Just here for the weekend,” you replied. “Work has been nuts lately and I needed some time away from home.”

Chris shuffled on his feet for a moment as you spoke while his eyes darted between you and the door that would lead to the outside world and the possibility of the two of you parting once more. It was an unexpected pull that he felt in his chest at that thought, you reappearing in his life out of the blue only to slip out of it just as suddenly by doing something as simple as walking out of that supermarket back out into the wide world. For nine years he’d thought about where you were, what you were doing, if you were okay, if you were happy and with each year that passed without seeing your face or hearing your voice, he’d resigned himself to the fact that you were lost to him, drifting out there in the seas of life never to see you again. He didn’t know why you’d suddenly come back to him now, whether by some stroke of luck or twist of fate, although Chris couldn’t have cared less which one it was. All he cared about was the fact that you were here at all and it was an opportunity that he was sure he wasn’t going to waste. He didn’t even know for certain that you would want to give him any of your time after what had happened when he left Boston, but he wanted to at least give you what he should have all those years ago and that was an explanation and an opportunity for you to tell him how his actions had made you feel.

“Hey, what are you up to this afternoon?”

“Not much,” you shrugged. “I was just going to sit on Bayley Beach and enjoy the nice weather.”

“Would you mind some company? No pressure, of course, I understand if you… I understand if you’d rather not want to spend any time with me.”

You exhaled then and Chris’s shoulders visibly sagged, bracing himself for your polite refusal, but your response was not one that he was expecting and truthfully, it wasn’t one that you had expected either.

“Honestly?” you started, getting swept up in the nostalgia of seeing him again before the rational part of your brain could catch up. “That would be nice.”

“Great,” he smiled in what you could see was pure relief. “Do you mind if I grab a coffee before we head out?”

“Sure,” you replied. “I’ll wait outside for you.”

You headed out the door and were sure to stand where Chris could see you, knowing him well enough to realise that he’d be worrying, at least on some level, that you’d slip off into the crowd. You’d never do that to him, of course, even after everything, because while he had broken your heart, he was also the first person you’d ever truly loved and when you’d put the pieces back together, you couldn’t help but keep a part of him wrapped up amongst the tape and string holding those pieces together while you healed. It was in doing that that you understood that he would always have a special place in your heart and honestly? You were kind of okay with that because while the ending hadn’t exactly been perfect, the two years you’d spent together were and you wouldn’t have changed that time for anything.

*

You weren’t sure what exactly had possessed you to let Chris talk you into venturing off campus and out in the early-February snow to get burgers at Eagle’s Deli but you were cursing those sparkling eyes and that roguish grin of his for wearing down your sensibilities as you righted yourself after what felt like the hundredth near-fall. It was slushy underfoot, the kind that’s a twisted ankle or sprained knee waiting to happen and while you’d dressed weather appropriately in your winter boots and heavy parka, you were still very newborn lamb-like in your movements which was amusing Chris to no end.

“Come on, slowpoke,” he called from up ahead as he grinned at you over his shoulder.

“Not all of us can be hockey prodigies and thrive in this kind of inclement weather,” you grumbled, shuffling slowly so as not to slip.

Chris laughed as he came back towards you with confident and purposeful steps, surprising you when he offered his arm for you to loop yours through.

“Now, I’m no expert in geography or meteorology but it snows in Hartford, no?”

He was grinning at you, the kind of grin that you had to fight with every fibre of your being not to reciprocate because you’d already committed to your grumpy act and you couldn’t have him thinking he’d cracked you already, even if he, in fact, had.

“Yes,” you stressed. “But I don’t make a habit of going out in it to get burgers like a crazy person.”

The cackle you received from him in reply was loud and a little wild and you couldn’t help but be completely captivated by the way his cheeks were ruddy from the cold and the snowflakes clinging to the curls on top of his head and long eyelashes. Tuesday morning coffees with him outside of Campion before class had turned into coffees in actual cafes during free periods and getting lunch together. It was even dragging your body out into the cold to the Alumni Stadium with your blanket and your thermos to watch Chris play with the BC Eagles because you couldn’t say no to that damn smile and those damn eyes and even now, as you looked at him taking in the scenery along the Chestnut Hill Reservoir pathway, you knew that they were going to be the death of you.

“It’s really pretty along here,” he spoke, more quietly than before; softer too. “You wouldn’t think we were in the middle of Boston.”

“Yeah, it’s a nice walk,” you agreed before shooting him a smirk and a look. “Would be nice in the spring sunshine too.”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it, Little Miss Chilly.”

“I don’t know what you have against being warm, Kreider. Warm is good, warm is nice-“

You shrieked as your feet went out from under you, courtesy of a patch of black ice hidden under slushy snow and you squeezed your eyes shut in preparation for the impact of your ass hitting the cold, hard ground. But it never came.

“It’s okay,” Chris spoke reassuringly, one hand tight around your bicep while his other arm was curled around your waist, holding you upright. “I’ve got you.”

You opened your eyes then to be met with Chris’s looking right at you, all moss and bark and warm. He was smiling at you but it was different to the easy grin he usually wore around you, this was softer somehow and all rational thought was replaced by one of those monkeys playing the cymbals. For the briefest of seconds, and for reasons completely unknown to you, the monkey tried to take the wheel and the idea of kissing him right there, in the middle of the pathway that had made an attempt on your life, flashed into your head.

Maybe it was the snow and how perfect and picturesque the scene around you felt? Maybe it was the fact he’d just saved you from slipping? But the reality of it was that those eyes and that smile held some sort of power over you that you couldn’t yet fully understand. You shook your head quickly, if only to take back control of the situation before you did something more embarrassing than almost falling on your ass.

“Thanks,” you muttered as you regained your composure. “This damn pathway.”

“I’ve got an idea,” Chris grinned as he turned so his back was to you and stooped slightly. “Hop on.”

“You can’t be serious?”

“I never joke about piggy-backs,” he replied in a faux solemn tone with the face to match. “Come on, we’ll get you to the Deli in one piece one way or another.”

And that was how you ended up with your arms looped around Chris’s shoulders and his strong hands holding the backs of your legs as he carried you on his back to Eagle’s Deli.

Not twenty minutes later, the pair of you were shuffling into a booth as you shed your coats, gloves and scarves, Chris grinning at you while you blew on your fingers in an attempt to restore warmth into them.

“See, told you I’d get you here in one piece.”

You scoffed at him and shot a playful glance across the table separating you both.

“You’re not human, that is the only explanation for how you’re able to walk in that,” you nodded towards the window where the snow was still falling to illustrate your point before continuing, “and not fall flat on your face.”

“Or my ass,” he added with a grin.

“Hey, that never actually happened!”

Chris’s face split into an even bigger smile at your little protest and the pout that had formed on your lips and while the gentle teasing between you was simply a part of the dynamic of your friendship, Chris would have been lying if he didn’t admit that the reason he did it so often was because you always looked so adorable trying to rebut him.

“No, you’re right. It didn’t,” he mused with a smirk, not needing to remind you that it was him who had come to your rescue judging from the unimpressed look you were throwing his way.

“All I’m saying is that we could’ve just gone to Hillside for lunch.”

“But the burgers here are superior,” he countered, smiling at you. “And you got to enjoy a beautiful walk in the snow with me so who’s the real winner he- mmpf!”

Chris was cut off by your damp mitten hitting his face, brows knitting into a slight frown before laughing at the proud grin you wore at the accuracy of your throw.

“That wasn’t very nice,” he said with mock hurt.

“Maybe I’m not a very nice person.”

“I don’t believe that for one second,” he replied, but there was no teasing in his tone this time, only the kind of sincerity that had your face flushing warm and had you reaching for the menu to hide behind under the pretence of looking at the choices available.

He couldn’t help but smile at the awkwardness with which you were trying and failing to hide from him but soon joined you in picking up a menu and perusing it, despite already knowing what he was going to order.

It was a few moments before the waitress came over and while neither of you spoke the silence between you both wasn’t exactly awkward even though Chris knew there was something about his last words that had had some kind of effect on you. He was right, of course, because despite the fact that you’d had hold of this menu for a good couple of minutes already, you hadn’t actually looked at a single thing on it even though you’d made such a show of doing just that and now that Chris had ordered, a cheeseburger with fries and a chocolate milkshake, the waitress was looking at you expectantly. Unable to form any kind of rational thought under that kind of pressure, you found yourself simply saying “same” and soon enough it was just you and Chris at the table once more.

Chris was looking at you like he had something he wanted to say and the unreadable expression on his face had you feeling somewhat uneasy for reasons you hadn’t quite ascertained but probably understood on some level if you let yourself think about it for more than a second. He could feel the nervous energy radiating from you though and so rather than pursue his current train of thought, he picked a topic of conversation that was much safer and knew you’d be comfortable with: school.

You talked about your classes and upcoming assignments while he listened intently and you returned the favour while he spoke earnestly about hockey and his own academic workload. It was so easy to settle into a natural rhythm with Chris whenever you talked, as if you’d been having conversations like these for years when in fact it had only been a few months of knowing him and a few weeks of meeting up like this. None of that seemed to really matter though, not when the conversation was good and the chemistry felt right and especially not when it was clear that you were both on the same page when it came to your friendship. There was something else there though, something that was beyond being purely platonic, that much was becoming crystal clear and yet despite the ease in which it was to talk to him about literally anything else, there was something that had you stumbling over the thought of bringing it up.

You were saved from falling down that particular rabbit hole by the reappearance of the waitress, two burgers that were big enough to have your eyes popping out of your head in her hands. Chris chuckled from behind his milkshake at the look of disbelief on your face as your burger was set down in front of you before he reached for the bottle of ketchup between you both. You took the top of your burger bun off, nose immediately wrinkling at the sight of four pickle slices resting on top of the lettuce and tomato.

“Ugh, I forgot to ask for no pickles.”

Chris looked up from where he was squirting ketchup onto his bun, his eyes meeting yours briefly as his face split into a grin.

“You’re not one of those people, are you?”

“Shut up,” you grumbled as you began to pick the offensive green menaces off your food and set them at the edge of your plate. “I like what I like.”

Chris reached across and began to transfer the pickles from your plate to his burger, smiling widely at you as he did so.

“Well, I might have found a solution to this particular pickle you find yourself in,” he chuckled at the exaggerated groan and roll of your eyes at the expense of his joke. “You see, I love pickles.”

“You love anything,” you countered. “You’re like a human dumpster.”

“Hurtful,” he replied as he clutched at his chest. “But also true so I’ll allow it.”

You picked up a fry from your plate and threw it at him, immediately filled with equal parts surprise and a strange sense of awe as he reflexively moved and caught it in his mouth.

“You really are a dumpster,” you grinned as you shook your head at the proud little smile he was giving you.

“I am, so how about you don’t ask for no pickles on your burgers and you just give ‘em to me instead?”

It was easy to agree to his proposal, not least because his logic actually made a lot of sense when you thought about it, but mostly because of the way his eyes were sparkling and the way his smile made you feel warm all over, like the falling snow and freezing air outside didn’t exist, like your fingers and toes hadn’t been numbed by the biting cold during your walk here, like there had only ever been sunshine. It was also why you’d agreed to let him carry you back through the snow to your dorm, his large hands hooked around the backs of your thighs and your arms draped over his shoulders much like during the walk to the diner. You’d protested initially, of course, not wanting to burden Chris or put you both at risk of an injury due to the slippery conditions, but he wasn’t about to be convinced otherwise and remained unperturbed by the weather, gently reminding you that he had in fact got you to the diner in one piece in the first instance at your objections.

Truthfully, despite the mild embarrassment you felt at your complete ineptitude when it came to walking on ice, you couldn’t help but be more than a little impressed at Chris’s sheer strength. You wondered then, about how hard he must work in the gym to develop such a strong core because while you knew from first-hand experience how slippery it was underfoot, he didn’t falter once throughout the entire walk home and with the way he was talking amiably about his favourite places in the city he called home, and how his hands were holding your legs so surely and securely, you felt safe as houses with your chest pressed into his back – even with your thick coats and layers of winter clothing between you.

He walked with you on his back right up to the entrance of your dorm, setting you down carefully on the pathway that looked to have been newly shovelled before he turned to face you, his cheeks once again ruddy from the cold and your walk home.

“I don’t want to say ‘I told you so’ twice in one day,” he grinned, sucking air in through his teeth and shaking his head slightly. “But didn’t I say that I’d get you home safely?”

“So what if you were right twice?” you rebutted with a playful nudge. “It’s not like it’s ever gonna happen again.”

“Watch it, Pickle. I’ll have you know that I’m right about a lot of things.”

“Pickle?” you barked out a laugh, watching as Chris walked slowly backwards down the path away from you with that smile still on his face. “What kind of a name is that? I don’t even like pickles.”

“I know,” he called out into the growing distance between you both. “But I do, remember?”

You shook your head at him, chuckling to yourself with a smile on your lips that mirrored his as you watched him.

“See ya Tuesday then, Trash Can!” you hollered.

His raucous cackle cut through the silent flurry as he continued to walk slowly backwards, his grin clear as day even through the falling snowflakes.

“Trash Can! Fucking, Trash Can! Man, you got some serious chirps, Pickle. Can you throw hands too? I mean, I know you suck at keeping your balance on the ice but we could use an enforcer! I could push you around?”

“Anytime, anywhere!” you laughed, watching him with a grin until he had waved his goodbye and turned away before he retreated into the heavy snow.

Part ii

[bonktime]

Take a Breath

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

Masterlist

Rated: Explicit

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

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

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

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

Wordcount: 22k

~~~~~~~~

It's not the worst planet to crash on.

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

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

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

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

You ignore them, don't lose count. Ok

Three… two… one…

You close your eyes and pull.

You don't open your eyes.

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

⧫⧫⧫

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

You do.

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

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

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

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

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

Your helmet is shattered.

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

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

You walk on.

⧫⧫⧫

15 minutes left.

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

7 minutes left.

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

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

Clever buggers divided and conquered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrug, “It was him or me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

6 minutes.

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

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

3 minutes.

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

2 minutes.

At least it's quiet.

1 minute.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lie back” you tell him

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⧫⧫⧫

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

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

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

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

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

⧫⧫⧫

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You squeeze your eyes shut.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Even split it is then.”

⧫⧫⧫

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⧫⧫⧫

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⧫⧫⧫

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you confident you wish to slumber there?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⧫⧫⧫

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

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

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

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

“Right then birdie. I await your call.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⧫⧫⧫

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

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

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

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

You chuckle, “Habit I guess.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⧫⧫⧫

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

Until the morning he wakes first. 

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

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

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

⧫⧫⧫

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⧫⧫⧫

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⧫⧫⧫

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⧫⧫⧫

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please Ezra, move! fuck me”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ezra smiles grimly, “If we're lucky.”

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

You shrug, “Depends what it is.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⧫⧫⧫

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⧫⧫⧫

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Take care of that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He spins when he hears your voice.

“Wait, wait!”

“You should have stayed away-“

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

“Thank you, Ezra.”

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

“Think nothing of it.”

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

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

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

He nods, “Give me three coins.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shove it into your bag.

⧫⧫⧫

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

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

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

You shoot too late. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ezra, don't…”

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

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

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

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

There are two locals at the door. They turn.

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

⧫⧫⧫

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

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

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

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

You don't know when you started crying.

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

It's dead silent.

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

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

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

And then his chest moves. 

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

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

⧫⧫⧫

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

⧫⧫⧫

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

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

⧫⧫⧫

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

⧫⧫⧫

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

Again, you barely sleep.

⧫⧫⧫

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The next day you leave.

⧫⧫⧫

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His jaw drops. “That is remarkable.”

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

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

“Ezra?”

“Mmhm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

⧫⧫⧫

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

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

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

You smile.

~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @engineeredfiction @mothandpidgeon @sleep-tight1

[imagineredwood]

Atonement

Summary:  Miguel gave you strict instructions; instructions that you went above and beyond to disobey. Now you have to deal with the consequences.

Pairing: Miguel Galindo x reader 

Warnings: Implied sexual content, sex toys, Dom/sub undertones, punishments

Word count: 2,960

A/N: How are y’all feeling about this one?

“Miguel, come on!”

The cartel leader shook his head as he shrugged into his jacket, his face showing no empathy for you nor any remorse.

“You disobeyed me and now this is your punishment. There will be no negotiations.”

He had been overwhelmingly busy this week, working hard to clean up his public image and make sure that future business partners were convinced that he was legit. Between architecture and agriculture, he had rubbed elbows and shook hands with many people this week and he knew that he needed to be focused for it. That was why he had asked you to make sure you only reached out to him if it was an absolute emergency. For anything else, you were to call Nestor or one of the other guards.

So when his phone had begun buzzing, the screen showing that you were trying to facetime him, he had gotten worried and excused himself from the meeting, only to answer the call and be confronted with the sight of you laying in your shared luxurious bed, toys scattered all around you as you writhed and arched, the most mischievous smile on your face. Miguel had hung up without a word and had given you what you had thought was your punishment.

But this morning you had woken up to the sound of him locking up the safe, your toys now secured behind the near-impenetrable metal. He had also erased your plan before you had even said it out loud.

‘I changed the code so you can’t get in. Don’t even try.’

And now he was going away for business, not due to be back for another four days. All the while you were expected to not use any of your toys, and it hadn’t mattered how much you had begged and pleaded; the boss had not budged.

With that, he was grabbing his sunglasses from the top of your shared dresser and keeping them in his hand. Taking three steps toward you, he reached forward and placed his hand on the back of your neck, binging you forward toward him. His lips were warm and soft as he pressed them first to your lips and then to your forehead.

“Be a good girl and I’ll make it up to you when I come back home.”

Your pout was pronounced as you looked at him through your lashes, voice small and persuasive.

“But daddy…”

Miguel sucked his teeth before giving a small chuckle, impressed with you hard you were trying.

“Usually that will work but not this time, baby. You’re just gonna have to suck it up. Maybe next time you’ll think twice before teasing me when you know I need to be focused on these new business deals.”

He was pulling away from you then and walking out of the bedroom in silence as you trailed behind him all the way down the stairs and to the front door, Nestor already by the car waiting for him outside.

“Miguel, please. Just let me get one out. Just one.”

He did not even respond to your plea, only told you that he loved you as he walked out of the door, your frustration growing more and more with each passing second. With a huff, you closed the door behind him and stalked inside, trying to think of something else to get your mind off the fact that other than your fingers, you had no way of bringing yourself pleasure, at least not how you were used to. And as luck would have it, the knowledge that you had no access to your assortment of bliss had you craving them even more than normal.

You walked around the house and tidied up, dusting, and organizing, rearranging your perfumes on the beige marble bathroom counter. You made a snack and sat outside to feel the wind on your face. You did everything you could to try and get your mind off the punishment that you had been dealt out, but it didn’t seem to be working. You still felt needy as ever and your phone lighting up with a text from Miguel did not help. Opening it up, you saw the little airplane emoji that he always sent when he was already taking off and you grumbled.  How dare he leave you here without any toys? You felt yourself growing irritated about it again, the brat in you firing up.

Then you had a thought.

And if Miguel had still been there, he would have known that the smirk that appeared on your lips meant trouble.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

You hummed to yourself cheerfully as you walked back inside, package in hand. You had spent a good hour late-night scrolling through your favorite site for toys, picking out a new one and you did not hold back. If Miguel wanted to leave you high and dry, you would just have to make do. So, you had bought the expensive toy that you had been eyeing for months; the one Miguel said you couldn’t get because he wanted you to wait until he got it for your birthday.

You had decided in your bratty nature to buy the toy regardless, spending the extra money to have it overnighted.

And used his card to purchase it no less.

You knew Miguel wasn’t going to be upset about the money as that was no object. It was the principle and the flat-out, premeditated disobedience. That was what was going to get you into the biggest trouble. You took the package to your bathroom and then set it up with his card next to it, snapping a quick photo before sending it to Miguel with the caption ‘Hope you don’t mind. You always said to use the card for whatever I need.’

With your death warrant now signed, you put the phone to the side and began unboxing the toy, cleaning it thoroughly. You were setting it down to dry when your phone buzzed, Miguel’s reply waiting to be read. Your heart was stammering in anticipation and it took you a handful of seconds to pick the phone back up. When you did it was a quite simple warning.

‘Leave it in the box. If it’s still packaged when I get back, I’ll make it easier on you.’

Your heart skipped a beat. It was easier when you were making the choice to make things harder for yourself. You were already done for now though and you knew it as you looked over the shredded box it had come in. There was no way for you to fake it or even cover your tracks and with a sigh, you reached for the toy, the anticipation of what Miguel was going to do to you once he returned making you sweat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

The days flew by soon enough, Nestor was texting you that he and Miguel were on their way, ten minutes out.

Of course, your bratty attitude had faded quickly after you had found your release and it did not take long for the guilt to settle in. You felt bad for being disobedient and you felt bad for using his card to do it. The prospect of whatever punishment he was going to unleash on you also did nothing for soothing your worries and you found yourself in a position that was familiar.

Guilty and remorseful now that you had gotten what you wanted.

You knew Miguel wasn’t going to actually be mad at you, nor would he ever deal out a punishment that you weren’t ok with, but that didn’t make the anticipation any less intimidating. You had done everything that you could do try and weaken the blow when it came. You had followed all his other rules, including never leaving the house without a guard, keeping your phone on at all times, and making sure to eat well-balanced meals throughout your days, not just quick snacks.

You had a good feeling that those things wouldn’t matter though.

Soon enough the front door was opening, and Miguel was walking through it along with Nestor, both dressed down and looking somewhat tired after the flight. You smiled as they walked in, both men returning it. It was already well into the evening and dinner was ready, the table set. Nestor walked past you first, leaning down for a quick hug before closing and locking the door behind Miguel. Now it was Miguel’s turn and you stepped toward him hesitantly, trying to read the room. He smiled as he saw you, appearing as if nothing were wrong. Almost as if he had forgotten your transgression, though you knew that was never the case.

The cartel boss hugged you tightly, pressing a kiss to your lips that was just as full of love as it always was, and you relished in it. Pulling away, he smiled as he took a deep breath, smelling the food.

And then just like that, he was walking away from you and toward the kitchen.

With brows knitted, you followed behind him, not used to him leaving you alone so quickly after coming back home and not seeing you for days. He was sitting down at the head of the table as per usual, unbuttoning the first two top buttons on his shirt and rolling up his sleeves. The cook was already plating and serving, and you happily trotted over to take your seat next to your husband as you did every night, only for him to shake his head and point to the seat exactly opposite of him at the furthest end of the table.

“You can sit over there tonight.”

He didn’t even dignify you with a look, simply began arranging his silverware as he waited for his plate. You on the other hand stood like a fish out of water, not even knowing what to do or think. Nestor was beginning to make his way over and so Miguel spoke again with a lower tone.

“Did I stutter?”

Consumed by confusion, you relented and made your way over to sit where he had instructed, Nestor’s dark brow arching as he saw you in such an unfamiliar place at the table.  Not daring to question Miguel, he simply took his own seat, and soon dinner was in front of everyone.

You sat and ate, listening to Miguel and Nestor talk between bites as they went over plans for this next coming week. Something about a meeting on Wednesday in the morning and you smiled internally, thankful that since it was in the morning, it wouldn’t conflict with your weekly Wednesday evening ice cream plans. Swallowing your bite of food, you inquired about Miguel’s trip.

“How was the flight, babe?”

Your question fell on deaf ears however, Miguel simply picking back up the conversation with Nestor that he had started, ignoring you entirely. You and Nestor exchanged a look, the guard’s eyes leaving yours quickly and returning to his plate, not feeling like getting in the middle of whatever the two of you had going on. You realized then that this was going to be your punishment and despite there not being any overstimulation or spankings, you could quickly tell that this was going to be one of the worst punishments you had ever been dealt out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

It was bedtime now and you were doing your skincare when Miguel came into the bathroom, stepping up to his sink right beside you and beginning to brush his teeth. With your moisturizer and serum done, you washed your hands quickly before coming up behind him, wrapping your arms around his bare middle.

“I missed you.”

Miguel mumbled around his toothbrush and continued with his dental hygiene. He had kept up the charade all night and you were desperately hoping that he would put a stop to it by the time you were both slipping into bed. You held onto him as he finished up, wiping his mouth, and then drying his face before standing. You stayed holding him, pressing small kisses to his back in hopes that he would take pity on you. Your voice was small as you apologized.

“I’m sorry for not listening and for being a brat.”

It sounded foreign coming from you; usually, you could pay for your forgiveness with your body. You weren’t used to having to apologize. At least not for being a brat. The cartel leader simply turned around in your arms and you smiled, figuring that the punishment was over only for him to hold onto your elbows and gently remove your arms from him, walking away from you and into the bedroom to go to bed.

Once more you stood like a statue with your mouth open, unable to believe that he was ignoring you still. The behavior stung for a moment and then it made you irritated, that remorse and need for forgiveness from earlier disappearing. With a huff, you stripped everything off and then made your way into the bedroom behind him, Miguel already in bed facing away from your side and giving you his back. You climbed in bedside him and tried to snuggle up into him, voice sultry and wanton and you stroked his bare skin.

“Miguellllll. Please baby, just talk to me. I missed you.”

The man shrugged you and stayed facing away if only to stop you from seeing on his face how badly he wanted you.

“Go to sleep, mi amor.”

He paid you no mind after that, not even when you rolled over onto your back and began to run your hands over your naked body, wishing desperately that they were his. Your soft moans and whimpers made him rock hard, but you couldn’t tell, his discipline and self-control top tier. You tried and tried but to no avail. Giving up, you grumbled and covered yourself with the blanket, muttering out a goodnight and not expecting a response.

“Goodnight. I love you.”

That little bit of reciprocation made you smile, and you knew you would be able to crack him by tomorrow.

“I love you too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

It was now three days since your punishment had begun and all battiness had evaded you. You no longer wished to be a pain, nor did you want to keep pushing his buttons. You just wanted to have your husband back. You wanted to have him cuddle and caress you the way he always did. To hold you for a full half-hour in the mornings when you wake up. To let you sit on his lap while he does paperwork at his desk. To press kisses to your forehead while telling you how important you were to him before bed. You missed it all, and with eyes that were due to fill with tears at any moment, you walked yourself into his office. He looked up as you entered, his eyes flinching as he saw the sadness in your features. There were a few tense moments of staring at each other before you cracked and walked over to him. He stood as you made your way over, not an ounce of defiance in you anymore.

He faced you as you came to a stop in front of him, eyes dark and warm as they looked at you. You stood defeated, fully aware that you had lost this one.

“You’ve made your point.”

Your voice was quiet, a touch of misery audible. Miguel simply chuckled, never taking his eyes off you.

“Have I?”

You nodded, looking at him through your lashes, hands clasped together in front of you.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I fucked up.”

“Yeah, you did.”

You nodded once more, struggled with trying to apologize as he stared at you, waiting.

“I shouldn’t have facetimed you that day when I knew that you were busy, and I shouldn’t have gone around my punishment.”

“And?”

You winced and looked down, laughing nervously.

“And I shouldn’t have used your card to buy the toy.”

“And?”

You sunk down further and further into yourself with every prompt, uncomfortable to say the least.

“And I shouldn’t have rubbed it in your face by sending you the picture.”

Miguel stayed looking at you for a handful of seconds with an unreadable face before nodded, his shoulders relaxing some from their raised position of dominance.

“So, what do you say?”

You didn’t hesitate, knowing that it was best to simply get it over with.

“I’m sorry and I hope you forgive me. I promise I won’t ever do it again.”

He stared at you for a little while more, putting on the heat before he let the side of his mouth lift slightly. His hand reached out to you, cradling the side of your face gently. It was the first affectionate touch you had received from him in the near four days after your fuck up and it felt so good you could cry. Eyes closing on their own, your head leaned into his touch, your own hands coming up to hold his where it was. You nuzzled into his palm as much as you could, the cartel leader letting out a soft sigh of content as he watched you relish in his touch.

“You had to learn your lesson.”

You nodded, eyes still closed for a moment before you opened them.

“I did.”

Miguel nodded himself and offered you a loving smile, tugging you into him.

“Then all is forgiven.”

He was hugging you tightly then, his own eyes closing as he enjoyed the sensation of having you in his arms again.

“That was harder for me than it was for you.”

You scoffed and shook your head against his shoulder.

“Doubt it.”

He chuckled, happy to have things back to the way they should be.

“Maybe you’re right.”

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[emmikmil]

keep me in your heart for a while

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female!reader

Word count: 6,6K

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+

Warnings: Mild talk of injuries, a little sad, oral sex (f receiving) unprotected sex (this is fantasy ok IRL wrap that shit up and be SAFE)

Summary: You help Din after a chance encounter near your home. A friends to lovers with fluff, smut, some hurt/comfort and some mild angst. Set before and during season 1 of The Mandalorian.

A/N: This is part of the sl+ discord fic exchange and I wrote this for the amazing and lovely @koskareevesismyqueen   I hope you enjoy!! Also big love to @soyelfuegoquearde for the beta read of my monster fic! Fic title is from the song Keep me in your heart by The Wailin’ Jennys <3

It takes you by surprise to hear blaster fire breaking the tranquil silence as you walk home. You had taken your bi weekly trip to the bustling city close by to stock up on supplies and it was unusual for any person, let alone people with blasters, to be nearby. Where you live is quiet and peaceful, nothing violent has happened in this small corner of the galaxy. Your house was tucked deep in the forest, nobody using this trail but you in your trips back and forth to the city. 

You step off the path slowly to lean against a nearby tree to peer over to your left. The blaster fire had ceased for a moment but it renewed again, only closer this time. You drop down quickly, your heart jumping to your throat as an odd pinging noise rattles the air, like the shots were hitting something metal and a groan echoes throughout the trees. One last shot, then silence settles in the quickly dimming forest.

You take a few moments to breathe and get your heart settled before walking on shaky legs to the path. You have to get home, you can’t dwell on whatever fight has taken place. It’s over and it was best you got home before darkfall. As you continue down the trail, your adrenaline spikes again as you hear shuffling and more groaning. You pause and swivel your head back towards the sound. You had figured with the final shots there was no one left alive. Something inside told you to go, told you someone needed help. You pace for a moment longer, mind clicking into overdrive wondering what you were going to do. With a sigh, you walk off the path again, telling yourself you would just look and see. You doubt you can fix a blaster wound, but maybe your limited knowledge could help.

You make your steps as quiet as possible as you crept to the outskirts of the scene. Before you was a man, with his hands bound in front of him and several more men lay around him. None of them were moving and you assume it wasn’t them making those noises. Rustling to your left makes your gaze snap to another man, a very large armored man.

 A Mandalorian. 

You try in earnest to contain your gasp at the sight. Your eyes grow wide and you unknowingly take a few steps forward. You had grown up on stories about the Mandalorians. Their honor and creed at the forefront of every story about the armoured warriors. They had always fascinated you as a child and now one was right in front of you. He was trying to sit up now, struggling with his leg and holding a hand to his side. Before you could take another step his other hand snapped out, leveling his blaster point blank at you without even looking up.

“No, wait sir please, don’t shoot! I heard blasters and thought someone might be hurt, I just wanted to help!” You hold up your hands for good measure and back away a few steps. He finally looks at you, studying you carefully before slowly lowering his blaster. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in. “Can I- Will you let me help you stand up at least?” you ask, still eyeing his blaster wearily.

“Thank you, that would be appreciated.” His reply startles you for some reason. You thought perhaps it was the fact that a Mandalorian was speaking to you in the first place, but really it was that despite the modulator in his helmet making his voice sound tinny, it still sounded so warm. Deep, warm and husky were the best descriptions, the only thoughts flying through your brain as you stare at the sprawled out figure below you. With a small shake to your head, you drop your heavy bag and walk forward to offer up your hand. 

“You’re either very brave or not very bright for doing this-” His own words cut off with a grunt as he stands, leaning more on his right leg. He stumbles a bit before your arms reach out, grasping his forearms to steady him.

“It’s closing in on sundown, it’ll be cold. I didn’t want to leave a helpless person out in the forest alone.” You couldn’t help but huff, annoyed at his words, more so that he was somewhat right in his criticism.

“A helpless person with a blaster?”

“Hey, I only came closer because you’re a Mandalorian! Your people are honorable and you wouldn’t hurt an innocent person...right?” You hate the hesitancy in your voice, how it shakes a little in the pause before you finish your sentence. You had assumed, once he assessed you were not a threat, that the man in armor wouldn’t cause you any harm. Before you can doubt yourself or start to run, he lays a hand down gently on your shoulder.

“I won’t hurt you.” His voice, while still laced in pain, was soft and comforting, soothing any panic starting to swell in you. “If you could just help me to my ship, I can patch up before heading out.” You nod and gently take his arm to place it around your shoulders, slowly starting to lead him towards the path.

“Oh, what about the uh…” you point behind you to the bounty still on the forest floor before leaning down, heaving your bag to settle on your back before adjusting the Mandalorians arm back around your shoulders.

“Leave it, I’ll come back for them in the morning.” With that, you both start towards his ship in silence, which was parked not too far away from your own home. You had heard something late the night before, chalking it up to a dream and not paying much attention to it. That had to have been when he landed. You pause again for him to catch his breath, his movements getting more lethargic, his ankle dragging worse and worse.

“How much farther is your ship again Mandalorian?” you ask while steadying his form. It was nearly black out now, the only light visible was the stars above and the small twinkle of light coming from the small lamp in your window.

“It’s just there,” he points towards the right ”just past that treeline, down the hill. Another twenty minute walk.” you bark out a laugh and pivot him back to the left.

“No way, neither of us can last that long, especially in the dark. My house is right here, I can patch you up and you can stay with me for the night. No arguing” The last bit spoken quickly when you hear him take a breath to respond. 

You already knew he was quiet and independent, and somewhat stubborn, but you were not helping this man limp another twenty minutes. You guide him up the small path to your door, leaving his side to open it and gesture him to come inside, He limps in and stands in the middle of the room, watching as you bounce around the room, putting your supplies down on the table and rummaging in a drawer in the kitchen for your small medkit. You turn back and bite your lip in thought, glancing between the large Mandalorian and the now comically sized couch and armchair behind him.

“Go through that door, my bed will be easier for me to patch you up on.” You turn, setting water to boil for some tea before following him back to your room. “You have to take off some of that armor for me to take a look…” you flush slightly as he sits rigidly on the side of your bed. You turn away fiddling with the medkit, opening it, taking out some gauze and bacta spray as the sound of armor piling up on your floor echoes around the quiet house. You turn back around as he clears his throat.

The armor covering his leg, stomach, and chest were gone leaving only his worn pants and shirt underneath. The armor piled up in the corner along with both of his boots. You gulp, shaking your head as you bend to examine his ankle. Not broken to his luck, just twisted and swollen. The graze on his side from the blaster fire didn’t look too bad either. To fill the silence as you work you half-heartedly ask the story about this bounty. To your surprise, the Mandalorian, or Mando at his request, told the story of the bounty. How it had only become trouble when several of his crooked buddies came to “rescue” their friend, but ended in all of them dying in the quick battle. You both finish around the same time and he murmurs a quiet thanks as you clean up. You gently touch his shoulder as he goes to sit up.

“Hey now Mando, keep off that ankle. You may hurt it worse moving it more tonight. You’re more than welcome to stay here tonight. I’m making tea now and I’ll bring you some food.”

“You don’t have to go to the trouble” he begins to argue, just like you knew he would, and that thought makes you smile.

“I don’t mind. It’s nice to have company and...it’s cool to meet a Mandalorian. I grew up on stories about you, so-” you shrug at that, shuffling your feet before moving to the door ”besides, the bacta needs to work on that ankle. Should be fine by morning.” you threw over your shoulder before scurrying to the now boiling water. You could have sworn you heard a soft laugh but push that thought away, instead focusing on a small plate of food and tea for Mando.

-------

He sits in the cockpit of the Razor Crest, leaning his head back for a moment to watch the morning light break through the horizon. He hadn’t slept a wink the night before, too on edge to rest his body how he needed to. The adrenaline of the day before from the ambush hadn’t faded as it normal did. Being hurt, feeling almost helpless as he heard a figure walk toward him. He is glad now he didn’t shoot first like he normally did. He won’t admit to being startled by this woman in the middle of forest, walking right onto a grizzly scene wanting to do nothing but help the person who was injured. It left his guard up, and he nearly rejected her, but that tree root twisted his ankle something fierce, and he was not looking forward to crawling back to his ship in the dark. 

Din knew he wasn’t the most gracious guest with his stubbornness and attitude but she didn’t even bat an eye. He hopes the credits he left on her table  would be enough to pay for the supplies she wasted on him. As he takes off, heading to take the now frozen body back to Nevarro, he finally allows his body to relax in his comfort space. He had seen very little kindness in his adult life, specifically kindness where some kind of reward wasn’t expected in return. Try as he might to ignore his exchange with the woman, images and conversation from the night before dance around in his head. He wonders when, if ever, they will fade.

-------

You admit you had been just a little disappointed that he had left so early, and he had been so incredibly silent. You had startled awake from the nest you’d made in your cozy chair well into the late morning. You had walked to your table to see his dishes from the night before, his empty tea cup and his plate that you had put bread and cheese on. You couldn’t help but laugh at the crusts, now incredibly stale, still left on the plate. The big, strong, and snarky Mandalorian didn’t like the bread crusts. Your laugh died  on your tongue as the light hit the large pile of credits stacked just behind the dishes. You shifted everything around, hoping he had left a note or explanation for the credits, but there was none to be found. 

Your mind drifts to him often in the next several weeks. Every time you use the credits you thought of him. You spent them to restock your med kit, and even treat yourself to some books you had been eyeing for too long now. Sometimes at night, curled in your chair by the fire with your new books your mind would wander. Mostly you wonder if he thought about you, if his own mind drifts to the quiet night you two had shared. It hadn’t been much. After patching him up you brought him some food and tea, slinking away with heat flooding your face when you realized he couldn’t take off his helmet in front of you. You two talked a bit later that night, when you came to check his ankle before bed. He had been quiet and watchful of every move you made. He did answer the few questions about his creed that you just couldn’t help but ask. You wish now that you had asked more, wanting to hear his voice more, but all you could do was commit the moments to memory, a tale to tell your future children of how you saved a real Mandalorian. 

Perhaps that is why you were so gobsmacked when said Mandalorian walked up to you several weeks later as you tend to the garden. His shadow engulfing your frame as you crouch, urging the crooked plant to stand upright.

“Are you...here for a bounty or something? I-shit i’m sorry that was rude.” You can’t help but smile as his shoulders shook under the armor as you fidget with your gloves.

“Had to stop and get supplies. Figured I would come see if you’ve saved any other strangers in the forest.” you scoff at his teasing tone, standing up to brush the dirt off your legs.

“I did actually, they even ate the crusts on their bread, unlike the last guy.” Your glare and cocky smirk  melt away to a large smile as the Mandalorian barks out a real genuine laugh. “Come on now Mando, I’ll put on some tea.” 

This interaction happens time and time again, he would stop by every month or so on his way to turn in bounties. After a few visits he brought you different teas he would find in markets around the galaxy, or even a book he thought you would like. The air between you two was easy, and you could tell he was more and more comfortable, having no problem lounging by the fire listening to your rattle on about the book you were reading or what your friends had been up to in the city. He never stayed overnight at your house again, but he would stay late sometimes and those were your favorite times. 

You two would sit close and talk more seriously, leaving your usual joking and playful banter to die out with the sunlight. He told you of his parents, his childhood, his early days when he was reckless and wild. In turn you shared your secrets, troubles and your dreams. Mando may not be the most talkative during some visits but he was always so attentive, soaking up every word you said. It was one of those moments where he first called you cyare instead of your name. As you looked at him confused, he confessed, quite nervously in fact, that it meant friend in mando’a and your heart swelled. You knew he was alone a lot of the time and it sent warmth  to flood your body knowing that he considered you a friend, a real friend. 

Before you knew it, it had been over a year since you two had first met. You never quite knew when he would arrive, but he did each time, gift in hand asking if you had picked up any more wayward strangers and each time you would accept his present and roll your eyes as he laughs. You believe it was in these moments, in the playful jabs, the afternoons spent talking, that you felt the joy of friendship blossom into a yearning unlike anything you've ever felt. It made you happy to be his friend, even if it stings with the wish to be more than that. So you took each visit and savored the moments,

This latest visit was on the shorter side, with him being behind from hunting someone down and he needed to turn them in ASAP. Yet  he still stopped in to see you, handing you more of your newfound favorite tea. Time went by fast as you talk and catch up and soon enough he stands, heading for your door before turning to look at you.

"Be safe cyare, don't bring home any strangers." You roll your eyes playfully like always

"You too big guy, watch out for those tree roots on your way out!" Your giggle echoes behind you as he dramatically flings your door open and strolls out to his ship. You follow and wave from your doorway as he leaves, only going inside as you see him fly away. Your heart aches but your usual goodbyes always soften the blow of his absence, the nicknames and inside jokes bringing a smile to your face,

You just wished that you savored that last visit more, wished it had been longer. That last goodbye echoed in your mind as the next month comes and goes with no sign of Mando. Then two months, then three pass with nothing. His voice bounced in your mind, echoing in the silent nights. You knew how dangerous his job was, had seen a small portion of it first hand, but you never questioned the possibility of him just being...gone. 

You had no way of communicating with him, knew of nobody else he knew. Asking around the town was hopeless, and with every month that passed, the more your heart cracked open.  By the sixth month you just stopped hoping, stopped imagining him walking through your doorway. You continued with life, work, friends, and shopping. Before you always enjoyed taking walks through the forest, but now it left such an ache in your chest, passing the spot near your home where you first met him. Going back and forth to the city was now a dreaded task that you put off as long as possible.

This is where you find yourself now, hurrying past that area with your head down, swallowing down all your emotions. Your only focus right now was to get in the house, put your items away and lose yourself in a book to unwind. You repeat this like a mantra in your mind, focusing so heavily on it that hearing your name almost makes you stumble backwards. Your head snaps up, eyes widening as you take in the sight of Mando walking towards you. The moment feels like it’s in slow motion, feeling so dreamlike and it's not until he touches your face with his gloved hand that the spell breaks. With a gasping sob you throw yourself into his body, holding him for dear life and whimpering out his name as you try to catch your breath.

"Oh cyare, I'm so sorry. I came as soon as I could."  He held you right to his chest as he soothes your hair back. He kept murmuring apologies softly in your ear as your cries finally dwelled and you two stand like this, clinging to each other in relief, only breaking away when a soft coo sounds from somewhere behind Mando. You sniffle and peek behind his body, seeing an orb floating midair with a small bundle inside. You look between the orb and Mando before stepping around him and walking forward. Sitting up inside the orb was the cutest little green baby staring up at you.

“Well hi there little one.” you say as you bend down to be at eye level with the baby. He stares at you with his large dark eyes before making another cooing sound and holding his tiny arms out to you. You glance back at Mando who nods, and you carefully nestle the baby in the crook of your arm, being careful of the obnoxiously big ears that now wiggle as he smiles up at you. The baby’s smile widens and he makes an almost purring sound as Mando walks up, placing one hand on your lower back and the other to pat the baby’s head with gentle affection. You smile as you look up at Mando. “Seems like you’re the one picking up strangers now, huh?” The low laugh Mando makes sets your heart leaping from your chest. You must be making a face because he slowly starts to rub circles into your back.

“It’s a long story, but the kid and I can stay awhile If...that’s alright with you?” He seems nervous and hesitant asking this, but on instinct you grab his hand and pull him towards your front door,

“I’ve got all the time in the world Mando. I’ll make tea and food while you talk.”

For the rest of the afternoon and early evening Mando tells you everything that happened with this small bounty, his change of heart, the harrowing close encounters and the overall life on the run these two had endured. While it hurt knowing how hard Mando pushed and fought to keep them safe, it made you happy that he wasn’t alone. It was easy to see how close they had grown, how much of a protective father he has become over this magically inclined green baby. 

The baby quickly attaches to you, eating up every ounce of food you offer him, and you give Mando a knowing look as the baby eats every piece of bread, even the crust. As darkness falls, the baby is put to bed, easily going down from his busy afternoon and silence takes over. Mando fidgets, seeming uncomfortable much like his first visit here and it sets you on edge.

After a while he finally breaks the silence. “I’m sorry again, you know it wasn’t safe to come here before. I couldn’t bring any danger to you. I know you were lonely-”

“Wait, wait. Lonely? You think I was upset because I had been lonely?” Your harsh tone cutting him off made Mando pause and shake his head.

“That’s not what i meant cyare-” You stand up abruptly, shaking your head at him, cutting off his words again

“I thought you were dead. This entire time Mando. I thought all I would ever have are the memories of our stories, our jokes, that your laugh would haunt my dreams. Don’t get me started on that damn nickname you call me,” you stop yourself before you wake the baby and try to compose yourself. Your hand goes to your heart, almost shielding it before you force yourself to take a breath and look Mando straight on. “This wasn’t a friend leaving with no contact for months. It meant so much more- you mean so much more.” 

Your confession hangs there between the two of you, making the air so thick in its resounding silence that you turn away, but a gentle hold on your wrist stops you from moving away. At his whisper of your name you turn, seeing him stand up slowly.

“Cyare means beloved.”

Those three words knock every ounce of air out of you and you blink away tears as you stare at him in wonder. “Mando does that...mean that you-”

“Yes, for a long time now.” He steps forward and bends his head, bringing your foreheads to touch. You then take hold of either side of his helmet, bringing him down even more so that you press your lips to his forehead. After he lets out a shaky exhale he asks quietly “Do you trust me?”

Without even an ounce of hesitation, you answer “Yes, absolutely I trust you.”

He gently takes your hand and  leads you back to your bedroom. He pushes the door open and closes it as you walk in. You hope he can't hear how loud you swallow as he closes the curtains, blocking out the moonlight and plunging the room in complete darkness.

The next moments would be engraved into your mind for the rest of your days. A gentle hiss filled the room before you felt hot air near your face. “Can I kiss you cyare?” His lips are so close to yours and you shiver as your mind struggles to catch up. With a hitch in your breath you realize…

His helmet. He took off his helmet.

With that realization you surge forward, pressing your lips to his and throwing your hands up and forward to bury themselves in his hair. Mando lets out a small gasp at the contact, the true first bit of touch he’s felt on his face, and you take the opportunity to gently slide your tongue inside his mouth; Deepening the kiss makes both of your brains go fuzzy and it's a sloppy and beautiful tangle of lips and tongues. You have no idea how long you two stand there and kiss, learning and exploring each other’s mouths, but you wish with every bit of your heart that this moment, this feeling, everything that you’re experiencing with him will never end.

However it does have to end, and you break apart to catch your breath, noses touching as you both pant. Mando takes no time however, and presses wet kisses all over your face, seeming to not want to keep his lips off of you. You giggle at his affection, pulling him closer to slow his movements, fumbling in the dark to find his lips as you kiss him sweetly before pulling away once more. “Let's catch our breath a bit, Mando.” He’s so close to you, you can feel his lips turn up into a small smile. 

"Sorry, got carried away there. I've never…" At his pause you want to smack yourself, remembering just how important this was. To take his helmet off to kiss you, even in the dark? You wonder exactly how inexperienced he is but his voice returns once more. "I don't regret it, this was-this was worth waiting for."

One of your hands leaves his hair and you cup his cheek, feeling the slight stubble beneath your palm. "Oh Mando, I-"

"Din. My name's Din. You can use it if...you'd like to." 

You felt his jaw shake under your palm, could damn near taste his nervousness and that just wouldn't do. You whisper his name against his lips before diving back into his kisses. At this his resolve seems to snap and his hands tentatively start to wander from their place on your waist, one tracing up and down your spine while the other grips your hip.

You slowly start to walk him backward towards your bed, but Din surprises you as he flips you two around and falls back, sending you both tumbling onto the bed. The movement was so quick and unexpected you couldn’t help but let out a giggle as you cuddle up to him and continue to press kisses on his lips, the tip of his nose, and back to nip at his jaw. That contentment you both had just standing and kissing in your room fades as his body settles next to yours. You lay on your sides facing each other, sharing kisses wherever you could reach. 

Before things could go further, you had a burning question to ask. "Din we can just do this. I don't want to pressure you into more, especially if this is your first time and-"

His laugh was somehow even more enchanting outside of the helmet and butterflies erupt in your chest before bursting into flames as he speaks. "I meant I had never kissed before, I have done...other things before, just with the helmet on."

You can't help but nuzzle his nose with affection before whispering "I want this if you do Din." The moment his pleas left his mouth you threw your leg over his hip and try to grind down on him as you pull him into a searing kiss.

He sighs into the kiss before he pulls away and starts tearing away his armor and clothes. At least that is what you assume he's doing by the dull thuds and clanks and muttered curses. You take the hint too, quickly peeling off your clothes. As you finish you feel his bare hand reach for you and he pulls you back into him, throwing your leg over his now bare hip and putting his lips back onto yours.

This lit a fire in you, unlike anything you’ve known. You wanted him now, needed all of him or else flames would consume every part of you. It took you a moment to realize the high-pitched whine you heard didn’t come from Din. He was currently whispering your name with his hand gripping your hip, stilling your hips.

“I just need, please I just-let me kiss you. I want to taste you, please.” he whispers against your lips and the desperate sound of his voice breaks through the kiss driven lust inside your brain. You remember with a jolt that he’s never kissed anyone, never tasted anyone before,and you take in a shaky breath before rolling onto your back. You couldn’t name what exactly that swell of emotions was inside you as he began to place kisses over your face and down your neck. Knowing that you are the first person he’s ever wanted or trusted to kiss brings a flood of warmth to your chest. That warmth however quickly rushed down to your abdomen as Din licks the hollow of your throat and presses a small kiss there. He takes his time as he kisses down over your heart and further to your breasts

He spends longer there than you expect, very clearly enjoying the feel of them in his hands as he massages and kisses every inch of them. He’s sucked more bruises on your breast than anything but you have no heart to complain. He only stops when you finally beg him to move, and he mutters a quick apology as he kisses and licks to your stomach. His hands move to your knees and prys your thighs apart. As he settles lower to place kisses along your inner thigh he stops. You realize with a rush of heat to your face, just how wet your thighs had become. You had been rubbing them together trying to find any relief as he devoured every inch of your breasts and you didn’t realize just how wet it made you. You suck in a breath as you feel Din’s fingers lightly trace over your slit and he groans as realization also settles in for him.

“We’ve barely...I haven’t even touched you here and you’re already this wet for me?” you can’t help but let out a breathless laugh at his voice, which sounds like he is in complete awe of you. Before you can reply his head dips down, licking your arousal from your thighs. He takes great care in licking both thighs clean and you nearly cry in relief when he licks from your entrance to your clit in one slow movement. You can feel his hands shake as he holds your thighs apart and slowly works you over with his tongue. 

You know Din has never done this before, so you let him explore you like this, enjoying the sensations of his mouth all over your pussy. His unsure kisses around your lips, the long licks up your slit gave way to him being more confident with your hums and gasps of approval urging him forward. While it feels amazing, you need more, so you take his hair in your hand and with a slight tug, you get his attention.

“Up here, right here at my clit just-” you let out a choked out gasp as he licks right where you need it. “There Din, just suck there and- and put your fingers inside me, just one to start.” Din was all too eager to please you and gently sucks on your clit while he pushes one of his thick fingers inside you. You kept one hand twisted around his hair and the other to cover your mouth from the very loud moans now tumbling out. With a particularly harsh suckle, you gripped his hair even more, pushing him forward as your hips lift to grind down onto his face. The vibrations from Din groaning into your heat only magnifies the feeling and you melt, doing nothing but writhe and muffling your gasps and moans. As you feel a second finger breach you to join the first, his other hand curling around your wrist near your mouth. You close your lips to try and keep quiet as Din gently pulls your hand down to the mattress and intertwines your fingers together.

“I want to hear you, please, I want to listen to you fall apart.” His lips barely leave you, his warm breath coming out in pants over your sensitive clit, the puffs of air sending goosebumps down your whole body. With that, he returned to licking, sucking, and even biting a little, and soon enough, you did exactly as he asked. You didn’t hold back the sounds and moans spewing from your mouth and you damn near scream his name as a third finger entered you just as your orgasm hit. His fingers never let up their steady rhythm, only slowing when your body releases from its rigid state and you melt into the blankets beneath you. You twitch and sigh as you feel his fingers leave you and his tongue replaces them, gently licking you, drinking up every bit of your release.

As your breathing slows back to normal, you feel Din shift between your thighs, and you hear him grunt as a slick sound fills the room. The heat that melted from your body with your orgasm came back tenfold when you realize those slick sounds were Din stroking his cock. Stroking himself with the hand that was just moments ago finger fucking you, making his cock slick and preparing to enter you.  Your every thought was lost in a lusty haze that you didn’t realize you began to murmur the word please over and over again, Din leans over you, pressing his lips to yours softly to quiet you down.

“Are you ok? You want to keep going?” His questions were so sincere, it was made funnier when you realize the fingers cupping your cheek were the same that were buried inside you and stroking his cock only moments before. Grinning, you push forward, kissing the edge of his mouth softly before wrapping your legs around his waist to guide him to fit perfectly between your open thighs.

“Yes, I’m good, please let’s keep going.” With that Din seals his lips to yours and shifts, slowly pressing inside you. You only broke the kiss when Din finally bottomed out, parting to both groan as your walls clenched around him. His thick cock stretches you just enough to almost be painful before it fades out into pure bliss as he grinds into you. You cling to his back as he starts to move. He keeps his thrusts shallow and deep, keeping himself buried in you as much as possible. All you can do is hold on for dear life as he steadily fucks you deeper into the mattress. His lips never leave your skin, mostly he keeps them on your lips to swallow down every gasp you let out. From this angle, his pubic hair was giving just the smallest bit of friction to your clit and while it feels good, you need a new angle. With every bit of force you can muster you clamp your thighs around him and roll the both of you over so you loom over him.

“Was that not good? Was I-" you cut off the questions  with a mess of a kiss, and even if he can't see you, you gave him the biggest grin.

"Wanted to try something new. I can't let you always be in control Din, you have to learn to share." And with that you grind down and circle your hips, grinning even more at the gasp and slew of curses that escaped his lips. You set a faster past than before,  the fire building inside was growing stronger with each second. Next time you tell yourself, next time you two will take it slow. Right now all that matters is the burning in your belly, the chills crawling up your spine, and Din moaning your name into the dark room.

It seems it is Din’s turn, his patience snapping, he moves his iron grip on your hips to your ass, gripping them as he slams you down onto him as he thrusts up. This sucks every bit of air from your lungs and you fall forward, bracing yourself on his chest as he picks up the pace. Just as your breath returns to you and you moan, the air whooshes back out of your lungs as Din spits out through clenched teeth. “That’s my good girl, I knew you could take my cock so well. So. Fucking. Well.” Each of his last words were punctuated by bone rattling thrusts and you scream into his chest before sitting up, prying one of Din’s hands off your ass, bringing it to your clit. He takes the hint and swirls tight and fast circles around you and it is just what you need. With a broken cry you fall apart, collapsing back onto his chest and groaning into his shoulder. Din holds you close and meets his end after a few more thrusts, clutching your back and burying his face into your hair. You two lie there tangled together until you can catch your breaths. Eventually you lean up and you giggle as you try and fail to find his lips. He chuckles too as your lips find his cheek and chin before finally pressing against his lips. You kiss lazily like this, basking in the afterglow; tongues tangling, your hands twisted in his hair, and his nails slowly tracing lines up and down your back.

Din is the first to pull away, rolling you both over to the side before he starts to pull away.

“No, stay” you mumble groggily, the emotions and actions of the day weighing heavily on your now sated body.

“I’ll be back, we need to clean up.” he huffs as you whine and paw at his body, but Din easily gives in, letting you win this battle. He gladly lets you position him back down, lying flat on the bed as you cuddle into his chest.

“Clean later, just hold me for a bit.” He kisses your forehead and you hum in contentment. As your body falls deeper into relaxing, sleep slowly taking over, you hear him speak quietly, lips till pressed to your head.

“Good night cyar'ika.” 

This rouses you from your sleepy state enough to ask, “that one doesn’t mean friend, right?” You smile as you feel his body shake beneath you as he laughs.

“No, it doesn’t mean friend. Good night Darling.” 

You both fall asleep with smiles on your faces and hearts fuller than either of you even knew possible.

[blitzturtles]

Title: It Goes Like This (It Starts Like This Universe)

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Vento Aureo

Pairing(s): BruAbba

Summary: Abbacchio isn’t a morning person. Never has been. He prefers the comfort that comes with a blanket of darkness to the bright hours of the early morning. There’s less eyes. Less people. Less performance. Unfortunately, he’s gone and fallen in love with a man that believes that the day begins before the sun has even broken the horizon.

Notes: This is for the first place to my 300 Follower Giveaway! @bucciaratisfishmarket requested BruAbba set in my It Starts Like This verse with some disabled slice of life/morning routine. Ngl, I was super excited to get to do something in this verse, so thank you!

Thank you to everyone that followed and participated, and a special thanks to @bucciaratisfishmarket! I hope you like your fic!

Additional Notes: Also, the pill organizer described in the fic can be found on Etsy: https://www.etsy.com/listing/1022344896/boneyard-real-bones-weekly-7-day-pill It's cool and beautiful, and I probably don't do it justice. Definitely go check it out!

-

Abbacchio isn’t a morning person. Never has been. He prefers the comfort that comes with a blanket of darkness to the bright hours of the early morning. There’s less eyes. Less people. Less performance. Unfortunately, he’s gone and fallen in love with a man that believes that the day begins before the sun has even broken the horizon. It’s leftover from Bruno’s days helping his father with the boat, and, later, his days running Polpo’s errands. Chasing people down for money and answers. What comfort Abbacchio can find in the night, Bruno can find just fine in the light hours of the morning.

Fortunately for both of them, Abbacchio is more than capable of running on a schedule, of waking up at the same time everyday and forcing his mind and body into cooperation. He did it for years for school and then the academy. It’s nothing he isn’t used to, and he’s happiest when Bruno is happy, no matter what that entails, which is how he finds himself waking up to Bruno’s second alarm before the man can snooze it again.

The thing about Bruno’s new medication—a pill large in size and equally ridiculous in the length of its name—is that it makes it damn near impossible for him to get going in the morning the way he used to. Before, Bruno practically operated on his own internal clock. Waking up before his alarm had even gone off and fetching them both their first cup of caffeine; it used to be the thing that made greeting the day a bit more tolerable.

Now, Bruno snoozes. Alarm after alarm, until they run out. He’s tried music, absurd volumes, and even relocating the damned clock halfway across the room. None of it helps, so Leone compensates. He wakes up around the second or third alarm, turns the rest off, and kisses Bruno’s cheek before he rolls out of bed.

Sometimes there’s a quiet plea, “five more minutes”, that endears Abbacchio so completely that his mood settles, not nearly as bitchy as he could be upon reaching the kitchen and finding someone else already there.

“Why are you awake?” Okay, so. Still bitchy. But he doesn’t sneer his words quite as bad.

Narancia, for his part, looks completely startled by the prospect of someone else existing at such an ungodly hour, but he manages to avoid outright screaming. That’s a plus. Abbacchio isn’t sure his head could take it this early. “What are you doing?”

“I asked first.”

Narancia narrows his eyes, but he caves within seconds. “I got a test in like two hours, and Fugo’s gonna kill me if I don’t pass.”

Abbacchio snorts at the idea, “Yeah, he will.”

“Not helping!”

“Never said I planned to,” Abbacchio points out as he starts rummaging through the cabinets for two mugs. He sets them on the counter and gets to work brewing their coffee. Decaf these days, for Bruno’s sake. Abbacchio could keep drinking his usual, but he takes solace in the bitter taste of his coffee instead. It seems kinder that way, especially when he knows how much Bruno’s been struggling without caffeine.

“Why are you awake?”

“I’m always awake this early,” next is breakfast, which is easier said than done. It’s rare that Abbacchio wakes up with a stomach for anything. Too many years of skipping breakfast in favor of a bottle did a number on him, but it’s not optional anymore. Neither one of them will be able to keep their meds down without something to eat, so he picks through the refrigerator until he comes up with fruit and yogurt as his best solution.

“Really?” Narancia asks, wrinkling his nose, “Why?”

“Ask Bruno,” Abbacchio says, dismissive. He’s really not in the mood to talk to people that aren’t currently snoozing in his bed.

“You’re not much fun in the morning.”

“Am I ever?”

“Touché.”

Abbacchio snorts. He should be offended, but he knows the kid is being a smartass. It’s his own fault for setting himself up. “Why don’t you go bother Fugo? I’m sure he’ll be happy to help you study.”

“Have you ever tried waking Fugo up?”

“No, can’t say that I have.” That’s always been Bruno’s job, assuming that Fugo hadn’t already woken up on his own.

“It’s too early to get stabbed.”

“Touché.”

They go back and forth for a while longer. At least until Abbacchio’s patience runs out, and he’s finished putting breakfast together. He dismisses himself with little warning and doesn’t feel the least bit guilty when the kid looks a little startled by the abruptness of his departure. He has things to get done for the day, and those things don’t necessarily include being part of Narancia’s obvious effort to procrastinate.

“Bruno,” Abbacchio calls when he steps back into their room after Moody opens the door for him. “Your five minutes are up.”

“Five more?” Bruno asks, voice muffled. His head is barely visible with only a tuft of hair sticking out from a pile of blankets. It’s cute, and Abbacchio is a complete sucker for giving in.

“Last one, tesoro,” Abbacchio warns as he sets Bruno’s cup and food down on the bedside table.

There’s a muffled reply that might be a quiet thanks, though it’s almost impossible to tell with the way Bruno pulls the blankets even tighter around himself.

Abbacchio rummages through the drawer of his nightstand until he finds what he’s looking for before taking up a spot at the end of the bed with his food and drink in hand. He sips at the decaf slowly, wrinkling his nose at the first taste. God, he misses caffeine. As expected, he doesn’t feel much better about his first bite of homemade parfait (and he can almost hear Polnareff’s protest at his calling it that). The rest goes down about the same, but the motion is mechanical at that point. One bite after the other with the occasional sip from his mug to wash it all down until everything is gone.

Abbacchio sets the dishes on the floor and reaches for the pill organizer sitting on the bed beside him. He absently runs his fingers over the lid, where small bones have been set in resin. He can still remember the first time he saw it. The black shine had caught his eye first, but, on closer examination, the thing that had convinced him to buy the organizer had been the mouse bones, delicately placed and striking against the background.

What he hadn’t realized then is that the little organizer would a significant adjustment to his daily routine. Having a week’s worth of medication in one place, already sectioned in dosed amounts, had significantly increased his medication compliance. Oddly enough, it’s had a rather hefty impact on his overall mental health. Now, when anti-inflammatories and bronchodilators and steroids are part of his daily regiment as much as his SSRI’s, it’s even more vital for him to consistently get his meds in. Otherwise, the consequences tend to be pneumonia and an unwanted hospital trip with a round of antibiotics and even stronger steroids. And that’s to say nothing of what happens when he’s running low on serotonin.

He’s caught up in his own thoughts when Bruno hooks his chin over his shoulder and peers down at the little organizer.

“I never did ask you if those are real,” Bruno muses quietly.

“I thought you were taking five more.”

“‘m awake,” Bruno answers, clearly half-asleep.

Abbacchio huffs a soft, amused laugh. He turns his head to press a kiss to the side of Bruno’s nose. “Sure you are, amore.”

“I am.”

“M’hm,” Abbacchio smiles, reflecting the expression on Bruno’s face, though his is notably less sleep-depressed. Bruno looks a lot like a light gust of wind might knock him out, and it’s so damn endearing that Abbacchio can barely handle it. Instead, he looks back down at the pill organizer and answers Bruno’s earlier question, “They are. Real, I mean.”

“They’re lovely,” Bruno says, and he means it. Odd as some might find Abbacchio’s taste, Bruno has always found beauty in it. “Perhaps I should get one.”

“Might be a good idea.” It would be easier to see if Bruno ever missed a dose, and it would certainly be easier to avoid that disaster all together. “There are other options. You could go with something—oceanic, maybe?”

Bruno hums at the thought. “I think I’d like that.”

“I’ll keep an eye out,” by which Abbacchio means that he’ll actively go looking for one. Anything to make Bruno’s life a touch easier.

“Oh, you brought breakfast,” Bruno says, moving away from Abbacchio to peer curiously at the morning’s offerings. “You’re entirely too kind.”

Abbacchio huffs a laugh at that, “For all that you’ve done for us? Hardly.” He pops open the side hatch of his organizer and dumps the day’s pills into his hand. Abbacchio pulls a face at the number of them and looks down at his mug. Right, he had meant to save a sip.

“Here,” Bruno offers his own with a smile. “We’ll get more in a bit.”

“If you’re sure...” Abbacchio could always go get his own, but he has a feeling that doing so will result in more small talk, and he’s not quite up for that yet.

“I am,” Bruno reassures him before taking up the bowl of yogurt and fruit in absence of his coffee. “Just leave enough for me to take mine.”

[wincore]

summertime | wong kunhang

pairing: hendery x reader, side xiaocas

words: 4.5k

genre: childhood friends to lovers!au, first love, hs reunion, practically idiots to lovers, fluff, angst

warnings: none

a/n: warmup-ish fic. i don’t know why it’s so long either. loosely inspired by this. also hendery sweetest boy so i had to write something cute for him !! 

When Wong Kunhang had hit you in the face with a volleyball coated in sand, you knew it was one way or the other with him. You were either going to fall in love with him or hate him for the rest of your life, and nothing in between.

It’s a little more complicated than that, you realize at twenty-one.

The neat asphalt is now a cool grey, not as pretty and dark as it used to be when you were in eighth grade but still clean and maintained. The stone walls on either side are certainly better off, marking the houses of the beachside town your school trip led to every goddamn year. Not that you were complaining, shining blue seawater has always been a favourite sight of yours. Kunhang was just the smiling bonus you held on to.

The road slants uphill till you can see the sunlight shimmering against the vast blue of the ocean across the horizon, dotted with the tops of palm trees and pastel buildings. It’s mostly at this point you realize that Kunhang’s been talking the entire way, and that you should nod along to add to the pretence, that you’re listening to him and not the loud drumming of your heart against your chest.

But Kunhang’s not here today. You don’t even know if he’s coming.

“Hey, (name), are you listening?” Yukhei asks, steadying the surfboard in his arms when you stop. “Are you thinking about Kunhang?”

The tone of his voice is teasing, but it’s as if you’re still thirteen, trying to come to terms with the first crush you’d ever had. Your cheeks grow hot and you scoff at him, snatching your tote bag from his arms and striding faster down the road. Kunhang can come, not come—you don’t care. For all you know, he’s enjoying his new life out there, as curious and fun-seeking as he is—was. He might even have found himself a lover, you realize as the bitter taste grows on your tongue.

Kunhang has always been special. Summer after summer, he’s only grown better at that.

Your parallel lines started growing distant somewhere in the first year of college. The daily facetime calls to describe the baffling wonders of adulthood slowly turned into weekly phone calls about the strain of assignments and projects and eventually, into faded texts you still look over on your phone. He’s just a friend, so you shouldn’t be expecting any more, right? It’s only ordinary that friends will grow apart. The city downpour that was slowly erasing his voice made you long for summer even more.

When you were twelve, Wong Kunhang had hit you in the face with a volleyball at the beach you always visited as part of the school trip. Somehow, with his weird sense and cutting enthusiasm, he’d offered the corner of his shirt to rub the sand off your face instead of a towel he’d find lying just about anywhere at the beach. (“The towels were definitely covered in sand! There’s no way beach towels aren’t sandy.”) And somehow, with your poor foresight, you’d felt an audible thump in your ribcage, the kind that only comes once. It was fitting, almost.

When you were thirteen, the thump grew into an entire orchestra. They settled in before you knew, and you realized you could neither accept them nor reject them. You suddenly couldn’t comprehend sitting beside him in class without nervously bouncing your legs, or laughing a little less enthusiastically at his jokes. You felt the turbulence of your pulse every time your hands touched as he passed you an eraser or a pen, or when his face split into a grin at you struggling to unscrew the bottle cap—it’s almost as if it were the end of the world whenever he breathed near you. You were painfully honest, so easy to see through and even Yukhei caught on to the fact that you had a thing for the weird yet lovable kid and his ridiculous smile. Kunhang, however, was probably in need of prescription glasses. 

When you were sixteen, Kunhang learned how to play the drums and if anything, it made the heat bloom in your cheeks even faster. When you saw him play at the summer festival before the school trip, you wanted to stay there forever, just watch him do what he loves. Focused in the way he breathed and looking incredibly handsome for a stupid crush, you’d wanted to tell him then and there. 

You’d made up your mind, or at least part of it, that this summer trip wouldn’t go to waste. Even the short-lived love of a young boy, you wanted to see it reflected in his eyes. That summer, just like every school trip, Kunhang had passed a volleyball to you in the outline of an inside joke that doesn’t get old; and you’d swallowed harshly, choking suddenly only for him to rub his hand over your back in the same gentle manner he did most everything.

When you think about it, you can’t seem to get over how much of an idiot you were back then. Kunhang was almost an even bigger one.

“I wish I’d get better at the drums quickly,” he’d said beside the campfire, tapping his foot impatiently. 

It was only the two of you immersed in the night and if that weren’t reason enough for your incoherent thoughts, his knee was touching yours in a way oblivious to him—and the look of complete serenity over his face made you rethink your confession.

“You’re already good enough,” you huffed in disbelief.

“I can play two, er, three songs!” His voice was enthusiastic in the beginning but it hummed out to a mellow ending. He’d added in a determined whisper, “I need to practise so I don’t embarrass myself.”

Before you knew it, you’d let out a short laugh. Wong Kunhang, afraid of embarrassment? It was almost unheard of. You’d never met anyone so open before, so happy to share even the rougher, less tangible parts of himself.

Kunhang only gazed at you wordlessly, and when you met his eyes, the butterflies were let out of the cage in your stomach again. You wanted to lean in a little, kiss him right then and there, the image itself slowly curling around your head in haunting wisps as if something taboo. It didn’t make sense to you, to feel so immensely submerged in adolescent feelings—yet be comforted by his presence oh so easily. You know you weren’t the only one harbouring clandestine feelings. You’d seen them confess, you’d seen the few perfumed letters in his locker asking to meet after class.

Kunhang had turned down all of them. It didn't take solving quantum physics to realize he’d probably do the same to you. And you’d both end up losing a friend.

You’d swallowed whatever garbled confession that might have come out of your mouth that night. It’s better off this way, you told yourself, and you believed it for quite a while.

You wanted to hate him when you turned eighteen. You were going away to start a new life all on your own, and yet there he was, pretending that everything was going to be the same. Did he have to treat you so special? It wasn’t real, after all, the full wave of attention he gifted you, the adoring laughter and the occasional awkward head pats. 

(And yet, every time you close your eyes, you wish it was.)

You wonder if Kunhang knows summer the way you do—sand against bare feet, having ice cream under a beach umbrella and most importantly, the scent of young love coating you in a thick layer of nervousness. Knowing him, he probably didn’t even notice the way you struggled to keep your wide grin secret every time he offered you the coconut flavoured ice cream. You wonder if he’s forgotten summer by now.

Yukhei catches up to you just before the narrow stone steps that end in the beach sand. You stop for a second, careful of the rock you always trip over (and the memory of Kunhang there to steady you with a laugh, unless he was the one who tripped face first into the sand) as you breathe out heavily. This is your high school reunion. You don’t have to think of your awkward  teenage love right now. You can enjoy the coconut flavoured ice cream all by yourself.

You step onto the sand, taking a sharp breath at the full strength of heat that hits you. The towels and umbrellas are spread across the area, candy blue stripes everywhere your eyes visit, till your name is called by a frantic Dejun trying to get your attention. Summer feels hotter than any year you’ve visited and even sunscreen can’t protect you from the inevitably dazzling view you face.

After all this time, you thought he’d go away but the waves come crashing after all.

Kunhang has grown into a messy sort of handsome. His hair is longer since the last time you saw him, unkempt in the way it falls over his forehead yet still strangely neat. Even under the shade of the giant umbrella, there’s an unmistakable calm over his features—the look he often had on his face and no one would be able to tell what he was thinking, his own respite in broad daylight. The contrast between him and the blue around is crisp, like a sunlit field of pink tulips floating atop blue ocean water. It’s hardly been three years and he looks older, a bit more mature. 

Kunhang beams when he notices you, the effect of it almost crushing as you try not to acknowledge the tidal wave of pent-up emotions.

“(name)!” he grins wide, jogging up to you. “I didn’t know you were coming. You didn’t reply to any of my texts!”

They vanished. Your words vanished again. Fidgeting with your fingers, you abruptly clear your throat before you can respond.

“Yeah. I, uh, I changed my number.” You bite your tongue softly at the lie.

He frowns. “Oh. Well, give me your new one.”

“I- I- I forgot my phone. At the- the hotel.”

You feel yourself cringing at your voice. It’s so...so embarrassing, every rise and fall. Kunhang blinks a few times before shrugging.

“Ah. I’ll get it later then.”

You almost immediately excuse yourself and beeline to Dejun sitting by the cooler, trying hard to hold a coconut larger than his hands as he raises a suspicious eyebrow at you. Of course it’s natural you’d go straight to the guy you see everyday at university instead of visiting the boy of your unrequited affections. It’s completely normal. What’s the point of a reunion anyway?

What you don’t expect is to be sandwiched between Dejun and Kunhang, the latter enthusiastically summing up each and every point of his life at university, the lack of control over facial expressions still prominent and you try not to let your heartstrings pull too hard. Dejun hums in intervals beside you, sipping at the coconut water he so struggled to get as Kunhang skilfully ignores the growing tension. 

God, he really is an idiot. You feel like telling him you’ve been in love with him for eight years just so he’d shut up.

But after all this time, Kunhang has managed to remain himself. You smile. The sand in your hourglasses might not be flowing so differently after all. He’s still talking about most everything he finds fascinating through the smallest of details and you’re still willing to listen to the sound of his voice for hours. The scent of the ocean breeze that made you think of him, so you kept it safe—it’s overwhelming now.

Your vision is suddenly blocked by a pink paper cup, the spotless white ice cream in it already starting to melt. You turn your head to Kunhang trying hard not to make a face at you, biting onto the edge of an empty paper cup.

“You didn’t listen to anything I said, did you?” he asks with a click of tongue, after taking his cup in his hand. 

You can’t help your sheepish laugh. “I lost you when you started talking about the campus cats.”

Kunhang scratches the back of his head, smiling. “I couldn’t get a volleyball today. They increased the rent rates by ten!”

“What, you were planning to rent a volleyball just to hit me in the face with it?”

Kunhangs face breaks into a grin, positively glowing from his eyes to the line of his nose to his lips. Maybe you don’t hate this feeling so much. 

Dejun suddenly clears his throat beside you, springing up. “I’m- I’m going to go help Yukhei,” he declares, discarding his coconut somewhere over the sand.

“Help with what?” you ask, furrowing your brows.

Dejun coughs uncomfortably before shrugging and speeding off to Yukhei trying very hard to plant the wet surfboard in the sand. Somewhere in your mind, you already know the reason why he ran off. 

You turn to Kunhang with a worried look, but there’s no sign of realization over his face. You almost sigh but catch yourself in the moment. Is it pitiful? He probably can’t even imagine you that way, maybe that’s why he hasn’t caught on. 

Is it bad that you hate it? That you’re not satisfied with the friendly touches, the innocent smiles. You don’t want to keep it so pure after all—you want to run your hands through his hair, you want to twine your fingers through his, you want to feel the touch of a kiss with him.

Your gulp nervously once Kunhang’s features come into focus, still talking about something vague and nodding along to it at an uncertain rhythm. The sound of the waves come gently crashing, just as they do to the shore and the buzz of this place reminds you of all the time you spent here. What has been, what could have been.

“Kunhang,” you interrupt and he whips his head to you, eyes curious. You take a deep breath.

What value is there to words that you’re desperately trying to throw away?

“I- I’m going to go to the water,” you say, trying to cover up your nervousness. If it wasn’t any other summer trip, it’s not going to be today. It’s not going to be, at all.

If you can’t put it into words, will you be alone? You’re only chewing over your memories hoping they fade.

Kunhang springs up just as you stand, his sudden movement surprising you. 

“I…” He begins but shakes his head with a subdued smile. His voice comes out softer than you expect. “Yukhei’s that way, if you’re looking for him.”

You blink back your confusion. “Ah, um, thanks!”

The more you try to lie to him, the less you understand yourself. But if you stay any longer, you might just spill the archived secrets, the words you should have burned in the campfire that night. You can fall out of love. It’s easy, it’s easy, you tell yourself—then why couldn’t you have done it earlier? Can you even do it now?

“What are you doing here?!” Yukhei asks, furrowing his brows as he gets up from the sand. “Where’s Kunhang?”

“I- I don’t know! Why would I know everything about him?” you grumble, hugging yourself.

“You are so stupid,” he states in response.

“That’s- That’s not something you should be telling me!”

Yukhei grabs your shoulder, shaking you hurriedly. “You should go back to him! The beach is one of the top ten romantic places, come on.”

“What makes you think I still like him?!” you hiss, trying to get his hands off your shoulders.

Yukhei stops abruptly, tilting his head to greet Dejun, who makes you jump out of your skin. You move apart from Yukhei, facing him with a sigh.

Dejun tries hard not to pull a face, notifying that your other classmates are here, and it’s a lot more likely some of them are still heart-eyed for Yukhei. The two of them seem to share an inside joke as they laugh and you raise an eyebrow, not even bothering to decode the situation. 

The brunch idea was probably Dejun’s, considering how smoothly things run. The whole renting out half a bar idea was probably Yukhei’s, considering how much of a wild mess it is. The place is perfectly snug, warm and just enough for a former high school batch, right by the beach where the sand meets asphalt. The laughter and conversations overpower the low jazz undertones of the music playing through the speakers and you find yourself smiling when someone or the other reminds you of all the high school ventures you’d had under the teachers’ disapproving eyes.

“Remember when Yukhei stole the rabbit from our school garden?”

“That wasn’t even worse than when he accidentally fired the water hose at Mr. Liang!”

“Oh my god, you remember putting on makeup in between classes without getting caught?”

“Or trying to steal lunch from me, you big bully?”

Really, seeing old faces after so long and then the same faces hammered only a few hours later might just be another one of the ‘fun’ things you’ve been missing out on.

There’s Shuhui, Lunmei and Linlin—girls you didn’t get to talk much with during school, but you remember Shuhui’s face from middle school. There’s Yukhei’s friends, Shihao and Taishun, who you think you exchanged a whopping total of sixteen words with throughout high school. Yet now, with everyone gathered here, it feels like some sort of a haven of reminiscence, like you’d known each other all your life (which, to an extent, you did). It’s comfortable and warm, the blanket of old connections.

You take another sip of the punch. It’s not enough to get you drunk but it's enough to shift the gears in your ribs to begin the steam engine you can’t find the brakes on. Your face is hot, Kunhang finally not the reason behind it, and you sigh as you glance around the room slowly.

It would’ve been quieter if Yukhei somehow hadn’t started this chain of confessions. Dejun is still struggling to keep him seated, a warm blush over his face when he has to wrap his arm around Yukhei yet again while the others continue chanting “confess! confess!” to the next unlucky victim guilty of harbouring an unspoken teenage crush.

You shake your head at the whole scene, sighing once again as you lazily swirl the remnants of your drink in the glass. The night will be over soon, and you’ll go back to your own paths. For now, you can pretend it’s all just another summer adventure.

Yukhei clears his throat, everyone’s eyes turning to him instantly. “I’m sure there’s one more confession left!”

There’s a bunch of cheers and you feel your heartbeat quicken when Yukhei shoots you a knowing smile. Your eyes widen, your throat suddenly feeling dry and you turn your head to meet Kunhang’s eyes. He looks at you with no hint or clue about the reality and you look away before it fries your nerves out.

“You’re going to thank me after this, Kunhang,” Yukhei calls, a teasing lilt to his voice and the boy in question simply shakes his head, grinning in polite confusion. 

You look around in panic, from Yukhei to Kunhang and wonder if you should open your mouth. You take a breath before a roar of cheers interrupts you.

Shuhui stands up, rosy-cheeked and wobbling at the knees. You catch Yukhei blinking with furrowed eyebrows but nodding anyway, as if the decisive president in a heated debate. 

“Wong Kunhang!” she calls before coyly confessing. “I like you! I’ve liked you since eighth grade!” 

Is it the alcohol? Or the cruel realization that your mother was right when she said summer makes people fall in love? There’s another round of cheers and applause as you get up discreetly, sneaking out the door a few steps behind you. You don’t think you can stomach the sight of someone else’s arms around Kunhang, his loving attention drawn to them. 

The night air is cool, the bushes lining the sidewalk buzzing with cicadas as you step over onto the soft, warm sand. The campfire has been reduced to blazing embers, no one there to kindle it as the night progressed. You hug yourself as you walk, the calm over you strange, uncharacteristic. 

Even if it’s not you and him after all, you should have said something. You’re only a coward, slow and naive in a world too fast-paced, unable to face a reality that’s your own. You couldn’t even stay in that room a second longer. If only your chest didn’t waver so easily, your heartbeat didn't grow erratic.

You walk closer to the water, waves lapping quietly against the sand, a hush over them as if they do not know what to say to you. What do you say to someone on the verge of heartbreak? Consoling your friends at university taught you next to nothing, your own seeming beyond your help.

“(name)!”

You feel your breath hitch, hesitant in turning around. There’s a moment’s pause and when you don’t turn, Kunhang tugs at your wrist, pulling you to him.

It’s getting so that your heart can’t even flutter anymore.

Gentle and kind, and so willing to give, Kunhang could never really leave you alone, could he? He looks at you with wide eyes, almost like a puppy lost on the streets. His pale pink overshirt is hanging loosely over his shoulders, unbuttoned all the way over his white T-shirt, his hair tousled by the wind and words yet resting on his lips. You forget to breathe for a few seconds and when you inhale sharply, the onslaught of your feelings comes toppling over you.

“I hate this,” you choke on the words. “You should be in there.”

“They’re still celebrating. And drunk.” He shifts nervously.

“I hate you,” you say, not finding meaning in the words. “I hate you so much because of how stupid I was- how weak I was.”

Kunhang’s eyes shimmer with something unfamiliar, lips quivering before he steadies himself, drawing nearer.

“That’s not fair,” he whispers, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. 

You purse your lips. It isn't fair—who are you to blame him? He doesn’t deserve the vomit of emotions from your popped balloon of a heart. You bite your tongue before you can spit out the poison-infused words. 

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, voice hoarse and still angry, “I wish I told you earlier. How much I liked you. How much I wanted to be with you.”

Kunhang stays quiet, hand not ready to leave your wrist yet, the part where his thumb rests searing hot.

“I thought I could pretend I never liked you at all,” you say, biting your lip. “I thought that if I faked it then it would go away but Wong Kunhang, I- I’ve liked you for so long that I don’t know what it’s like if I don’t.”

Why are you crying? It’s like the emotions you’ve hoarded all these years have somehow found an opening to burst through, in a stream of colours that paint you in embarrassment. You feel the blood rush to your cheeks and nose, as you vigorously rub at your eyes so the tears don’t escape in so obvious a manner.

“I- I tried going on dates, I tried- I tried all those stupid blind dating apps, I tried to focus on my major and making new friends and- and still…”

Doesn’t the rain fall in times like these? Yet there’s only the hot blanket of summer, with its swaying sea wind and calling cicadas resting in the vibrant bushes.

“I didn’t want to force all of this on you. I’m so—”

It’s only fitting that the stupidest sequence of words would leave his lips.

“I thought you liked Yukhei,” he says quietly.

You pause, uncertain of what to do and breathe out in annoyance. “Kunhang, for the love of god, where did you even come up with that?”

His cheeks colour ever so slightly and he clears his throat. “I don’t kno- I just- I kept giving myself excuses too. I’m sorry.”

The wind makes his hair sway lightly by his eyes, the stars glowing cool blue in them. Whatever the ebb and flow of your feelings were, they’re crashing against the sand, violent and sorrowful at first till the moon tames them into something warmer.

And then it happens again. Kunhang smiles, shoulders relaxing. There’s a moment’s pause.

“I- I’m not good with this.”

When Kunhang presses his hand against your jaw and leans in a little, eyes waiting for confirmation, the drumming in your veins is so loud you can barely comprehend the movement of his actions. You shut your eyes almost instantly but Kunhang accidentally bumps your noses a little too hard. The two of your wince, your hand flying to your nose as a muffled cry of pain escapes your lips and he looks at you worriedly, his fingertips pressing against your cheek softly.

You choke back a laugh but it bubbles up anyway, his own following after an embarrassed pause. 

“I think- I think I was a little nervous,” he admits, looking down and then back up to you.

“We can...we can try that again,” you hum, biting back a smile.

Kunhang’s hair is in fact softer than you’d expected, and when you run your fingers through them, he smiles into the kiss, his hand at the small of your back pulling you closer. Nothing’s like you daydreamed of and yet everything is in place, the shared warmth growing with each passing second. 

It’s blissful for a few moments before you’re interrupted by a drunk Yukhei to “get it” and you jump apart from each other, flushed hot in the cheeks. Dejun apologizes for his boyfriend, waving at you guys to continue whatever the hell you were doing before tugging Yukhei along with him.

You clear your throat awkwardly before plopping down on the sand, face buried in your hands. Kunhang follows slowly, legs outstretched towards the ocean. You peek to see him smiling at the sky, leaning back on his hands and the look you love seeing on him.

“Kunhang?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t- I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. Even if you didn’t like me back then.”

Kunhang turns his head to you, eyes earnest as they trail across your face.

“You don’t have to be brave.”

He reaches out to fix the hair from your eyes, a gentle touch to them as ever, but this time there’s a stronger meaning to it, almost as if he’d kiss you again right then. The two of you smile, twining your fingers somewhere along the night as he tells you to rest your head on his shoulder. The waves sing softly to accompany Kunhang’s chatter, the feeling almost unreal when you feel his pulse against your thumb. 

What has been, what could’ve been—they’re barely a breeze to what really is.

[americasass81]

Love In The Wild

Warnings:- Fluff, M & F Smut (nothing too graphic), Very, very, very Mild Stalker Behavior, Mild Coarse Language, Teasing, Kinda Friends to Enemies to Lovers. Do not read if any of these warnings are upsetting. All mistakes are my own. Feedback and reblogs are welcomed.

By proceeding you are acknowledging that you are over 18 and are consenting to the content below the cut.

Pairing:- softish!Brock Rumlow x Named Female Character

Author’s Note 1:- Okay so this is once again a very special piece for @saiyanprincessswanie as she faces into yet another surgery. Good luck Missy and know that all our thoughts are with you. Hope this lifts your spirits and helps make you smile. {PS:- I also included a little Frank trivia in this but I’m not sure if anyone else will spot it}.

Author’s Note 2:- Thanks goes to @firefly-graphics​ for creating the included Floral Leaves divider. Please go check out Daisy’s work and pass on some love.

Author’s Note 3:- This is also my first time writing for a Named Character and I hope it works okay.

Synopsis:- Meeting a stranger in a place that holds a special place in your heart may be the key to unlocking your future happiness.

Word Count:- 5,378

Sitting out on the porch of the dining area as the morning sun shone its rays towards the ground and the early risers milled around the area, you wished you could wake up like this every morning. Nature was in full bloom all around and listening to the adults chatting while the odd child ran around enjoying their little freedom, you truly felt like you had come home. Finally feeling like yourself again, this trip was simply about reconnecting with nature and finding joy in the little things. Finishing up breakfast, you walked back through the lobby of the lodge and smiled as a small child skipped up to you and handed you some freshly picked wildflowers before running off back to her parents after you thanked her. Sniffing the flowers as you continued on back to your room, you remembered when you too held that child-like innocence and wondering where it went, you hoped that she at least would be someone who could hold onto hers.

Arriving at your room, you opened the door and stepping inside, placed the flowers in a glass of water before picking up the activity pamphlet and looking down the list of activities. Oakridge may have been a nature park, but that didn't stop it from having an impressive choice of activities for those that weren't exactly interested in the great outdoors. Deciding however that you would take advantage of the glorious morning and enjoy a hike along by the river flowing down from the mountains, you dressed accordingly, pulled out your hiking poles and headed off at a leisurely pace. Placing one foot in front of the other, the wind through the trees touched your soul and as you headed along the hiking trail you swore you could hear the voices of those that came before you reaching out across time and space to deliver the peace you had long since sought. Losing yourself in the wonder all around you, step by step your cares melted away as the sound of the nearby river and the local forest creatures reminded you why you were here in the first place.

Bending down to examine a rare plant, while taking a drink from your water bottle, it seemed that a higher power however had something else in mind for you when the sound of a branch snapping off to your right sharpened your senses and focused your attention firmly on your surroundings. Turning towards the sound as a burly, gruff looking man appeared before you, you figured him to be yet another park visitor until he opened his mouth and you identified him as nothing more than an annoyance.

"Well, well, well cricket, imagine finding you out here. You lost? I thought for sure someone like you'd be holed up back at the lodge with a hot chocolate and a nice book." he quipped and all you wanted to do was reach up and slap him. As it was you instead simply ignored him and walked away in the hope he would get the message.

Hope was not to be your friend in this scenario however as he easily caught up to you and began to point out all the ways in which the surrounding woodland was too dangerous for a delicate thing such as yourself. Breathing in the cool crisp air as you ventured further up the hiking trail, you did your best to ignore this intruder into your peaceful activity, but this task proved impossible as his next statement reached your ears. Asking if it was even safe for you to be outdoors and if you could tell the difference between common woodland plants and poison ivy, you finally had enough and rounded on him. "Now listen here you annoying little insect," you spat as he simply stood there looking at you as if enjoying your reaction, "I'll have you know that as a landscape architect this fragile little thing is far more capable of being outdoors than the likes of you."

Looking you up and down however with a smirk you would later come to enjoy, he simply took a step closer and asked what exactly a landscape architect was. After relaying in detail what exactly it was your job entailed, you finally had enough when he voiced his opinion that no such job actually existed and you were nothing more than a gardener. Losing all patience with him and taking in your strategic location, you smiled a glorious smile before placing your hands against his chest and leaning closer towards his ear. "You know what dickface, maybe my work doesn't sound like a real job, but it does give me the strength to do this," and with one powerful push and a huge amount of luck, the stranger found himself sitting in the river as you laughed and walked away from him.

Gazing after your retreating form as the river continued to flow around him and a few more visitors neared his location, he removed himself from his current location and heading back towards the lodge decided that your fiery spirit was definitely something he had to find a way to explore. Finishing off your hike before heading back to your room to freshen up, you hoped the rest of your trip was free of that arrogant stranger while you figured out what to do with the rest of your day.

Stripping off and stepping into the shower in another part of the lodge, Missy's stranger thought back on how he had landed himself in this position. Sure he thought it funny at the time to sneak up on her having secretly loved her from afar over the years, but seeing it from her point of view it probably wasn't the smartest move. Still he had to admit that fire in her was something to behold and he couldn't wait to see what fun they could have together. For now he set aside his desires, dressed quickly and casually and headed to his truck for his weekly trip to the city to pick up the few essentials he couldn't live without. Driving along with his reliable radio blasting his favorite music, he tried to figure out how best to make it up to his precious girl and so, once reaching the city, his first stop was the flower shop to begin his campaign.

Walking into the bright airy premises, it always amazed Brock just how successful this place had become. Browsing until the last customer completed their business, he then headed over to the counter where the owner and his oldest friend stood waiting with her usual smile. Explaining to Samantha the predicament he had landed himself in, she told him it would have been wonderful to see before she finally took pity on him and made up a special arrangement of roses, lilies and tulips. Agreeing to call back for them on his way home, he paid the bill then headed off on his other business hoping that this gesture would help thaw his beautiful little cricket. Two hours later, having finished up all that he needed to do and collecting the flowers with a warning from Samantha not to screw things up, he drove back to the park somewhat more chipper now that he had parts of a plan in place. Parking in the employee car park, he took the flowers to the reception desk and asked Annie to place them in room 37. Then returning out to his truck to begin removing his purchases, he waited to see if his apology would be accepted.

Stepping out of the shower feeling totally invigorated after your wonderful hike and the glorious shower, you dried off, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and stepped out into the living area to be greeted by a beautiful bouquet of freshly cut flowers. Looking around the room and finding nothing disturbed, you went to the door and peeked out into the hall and not seeing anyone around, shut the door and headed back towards the coffee table. Looking at the arrangement before bending down to inhale their heavenly scents, your eye caught the card poking out between the flowers. Reaching out to pluck the card carefully from the vase, a mixture of emotions worked their way through your body as you read the words displayed before you.

Rummaging around in the recesses of your mind for any explanation for the words staring back at you, your hand dropped the card and you contemplated throwing the vase, flowers included, at something when your mind latched on to the early morning events. Not knowing how the stranger had found out your name or which room you were staying in, the sheer audacity of him to think that you should be sorry for dumping his smug ass in the river made your blood boil and erased the peace and pleasure of the morning's activities. Still as you tried to calm down and remember that you were here to enjoy yourself, you instead decided to throw away the card and pretend the beautiful flowers were simply part of the room's decor. Finally happy with your decision, you picked up the activities pamphlet once again and glancing through it decided that the afternoon art class might be just the thing to distract you from the arrogant stranger who twice now had intruded on your peaceful vacation. Heading off back down to the lobby, you stopped by the cafe for a brownie and a coffee before asking for directions to the art class. Being told how to get there by the polite guy behind the counter, you paid for your items, left a generous tip and headed off towards your next adventure.

Talking to Annie and discovering that the flowers had indeed been delivered to the correct room, Brock sat in his office trying to figure out what miscommunication had occurred this time round. Having watched you grow up and mature through the years as you visited the park, first with your parents and then sometimes on your own, he knew you to be a kind and thoughtful soul so he had to figure in the half day that you had been here you couldn't have that many people to apologize to.

Ringing through to reception, he inquired as to what the occupant of room 37 was up to, but when no one was able to shed any light on the matter, he figured he would simply have to allow the whims of fate to hopefully bring you back to his presence. Finding himself particularly frustrated at the events taking place around him with little to no control over them, he headed off to the lodge's gym to try and work off some of the tension making itself at home in his muscles. Of course he could use the equipment in his own quarters, but his parents had taught him that not only should he know how everything around the lodge worked, he should also keep himself in the trenches and thereby better understand what their guests and visitors needed and thus help cultivate an all-round better vacation experience.

Heading off to the gym fifteen minutes later, all thought of working out was pushed from his mind however as he passed the art room and got an eyeful of the exhibition within. Sure he couldn't see much of the naked male model below the assembled easels, but he could clearly make out Missy's ethereal form sitting on the far left gazing at the man before her as her hand moved back and forth across the canvas. Remembering his parents words and seeing an opportunity to spend some extra time with you, he gave up on his workout, moved away from the door and taking out his phone, dialed Elaine and told her of a change of plan for the art class. Then heading to the changing rooms, he stripped down, slipped on an available robe and waited for Julius to be dismissed.

Sitting around and fine tuning the drawing you were working on while the instructor Elaine explained that another model would be taking over, you were the only one shocked when a new guy took the podium and removed his hooded robe to reveal the stranger you had dumped into the river that morning. Choking on the couch that caught in your throat, your cheeks heated up as your eyes focused in on his package and he winked over at you when his eyes followed your gaze. Giving a jerk of his hips that he was certain you had seen by the way the pencil dropped from your hand and how flustered you had become, he smiled to himself as he got comfortable and continued to be the bane of your existence for the next hour until Elaine called time on the class. Removing your drawings and ducking out quickly from the room, you made for the nearest exit and breathed in some lungfuls of much needed air. Meanwhile back in the art room as Brock thanked Elaine and Julius for letting him sit in, he now took pleasure in the fact that he clearly had an effect on you.

Heading off back to your room when your breathing was once again under control, you tried to figure out how this stranger, whose name you didn't even know, always showed up when you were trying to forget about him. Deciding now that the remainder of your evening was a total bust, you headed to the dining room for dinner before retiring to bed with a good book. Ordering the pasta and following Russell, the maitre d to a table by the window, you then ordered a delicious red wine and set your sights on the evening view beyond the glass. Watching families taking photos, couples and strangers getting to know each other around a campfire and children running around being children, you were pulled out of this wonderland when a waitress appeared with your wine.

Meanwhile, walking into the dining room to check on things as he liked to do, Brock caught Jennifer leaving your table and the view that greeted him took his breath away and tightened his pants. Discreetly bringing your glass to your nose and inhaling the pleasant aroma, you sniffed a few more times, taking longer each round. Finally pressing your lips to the glass, you took a sip and allowed the rich bouquet to settle gently in your mouth. Holding it carefully on your tongue as the flavor assaulted your taste buds, you were so wrapped up in your own little world, you had no idea that your actions were being so closely observed by someone who couldn't help but wonder how it would look and feel to have you pleasure his cock the way you did the wine. At last coming out of his fantasy as you swallowed the liquid inhabiting your mouth, Brock excused himself from Russell's presence and headed off back to his quarters, vowing one day soon to recreate the vision he had just experienced.

Thanking Jennifer once she delivered your meal, you tucked into the delicious spaghetti not knowing that your earlier actions had been interpreted as a glorified sex act. Still eating in peace and enjoying every single bite, you headed back to your room afterwards and curling up with the latest romance novel, lost yourself for a few blissful hours in its pages before laying down in bed and closing your eyes. Hoping that tomorrow would prove a more relaxing day, you had no idea as you drifted off towards sleep that somewhere under the same stars and roof as you, a dark haired, hazel eyed walking god was currently using his hand to relieve the tension a day in your orbit had fostered within him.

Waking the next morning feeling fully rested, you showered, dressed and decided to forego breakfast in favor of a little kayaking. Figuring that no strangers could upset your day out on the water, things took a quick nose-dive when you arrived at the kiosk to discover your mystery stalker doing sit-ups on the ground a few feet away. Deciding you were sick and tired of this complete arse ruining what was supposed to be a relaxing vacation, you swiftly headed back to the main lodge and stood in line at reception to be assisted. Finally approaching Annie, you explained to her that while it was not your intention to cause trouble, a guest was causing you to feel very uncomfortable and you would appreciate it if management would do something about it. Assuring you that the matter would be dealt with, you told her you would be in your room awaiting their response. Half an hour later however everything you thought you knew evaporated like steam when you opened your door to discover your strange stalker standing before you.

"Hello Missy, I heard you were looking for me. Mind if I come in?" he asked with a little smirk, though he made no attempt to move forward.

Standing looking at him with your hand on the door, you quickly found your voice as your senses returned to you. "Yes I do mind actually. You have spent the last twenty-four hours showing up everywhere I've been and as a result I have reported you to management. Now, I don't know how you got my name or what made you think I asked to see you, but it would be best if you left before the manager arrives."

"Well in that case, how about I do you one better and get the owner?" he asked before reaching out his hand to you. "Brock Rumlow at your service. You really don't remember me?" he asked with slight disappointment evident in his voice.

Flitting your gaze back and forth between his face and his outstretched hand, the cogs began turning in your mind and a vision appeared before your eyes of you as a child playing on the swings with a boy a few years older than you. Reaching out your hand to shake his, your voice began working again as you asked him for identification before stepping aside to grant him entry.

Closing the door behind him as he walked over to the couch and made himself at home, a thousand questions assaulted your brain, but you figured the best course of action was to order something to calm your nerves before dealing with the hunk of muscle before you. Waiting for the drinks to arrive, you took a seat on one of the chairs opposite and played with the hem of your top while Brock occupied himself with admiring just how flustered his presence made you.

Eventually getting up to answer the knock at the door, he thanked the waiter and poured each of you a glass of wine before offering you yours. "Here cricket, this should help with those pesky nerves." he grinned before sitting back down on the couch.

Taking a huge gulp from the glass, you then set it down on the table before facing him. "I wouldn't be nervous if you didn't keep stalking me. And stop calling me cricket." you snapped.

"You never had a problem with it when we were children." he interrupted. " What's happened Missy? Where's that carefree, nature loving girl who stole my heart when I was twelve years old?" he asked, now moving closer to you.

Looking up at him as the sands of time shifted and took you back to that memory, you smiled slightly at the image of that tender boy who had shown you so many wonderful sights around the park. Pulling yourself back to the present and the now grown up adult in front of you, you no longer saw the stranger who was out to ruin your vacation. "I guess she just needed someone to show her the way back." you answered shyly as you topped up your glass and sat down beside him on the couch.

Catching up on all the things that had happened in your lives through the intervening years, two bottles of wine later found you and Brock stretched out on your bed talking through why both of you were still single. Explaining that he couldn't find anyone to capture his attention or understand his love of nature, you were shocked to realize that you too had a similar experience.

Opening your eyes a few hours later to discover you had fallen asleep on your bed in Brock's arms, you thought once more of the fun you had as children and the feelings that friendship had nurtured within you. Sure you would never admit as much to him, but the love he had for nature and the care and generosity he showed to everyone around him were qualities you had looked for in potential boyfriends. Looking at his sleeping form, you had to wonder if fate was playing a hand in your love life right now but swiftly shoved that thought aside when a pair of hazel eyes met yours and a hand reached up to cup your cheek.

"Hey there Missy, you're a sight to wake up to." his groggy voice greeted and you couldn't help the giggle that left your lips as he pulled you closer and threw his leg across yours. Closing his eyes once again as you snuggled into his strong chest and warm embrace you drifted off once more wondering how a childhood acquaintance could stir such feelings in you all these years later.

Finding yourself jolted awake an hour later, Brock once more showed you all his favorite parts of the park before dragging your tired body back to his rooms and ordering up some dinner. Watching you eat while you told him more about your job and your deep seated desire to leave the city, he couldn't help himself when you raised your glass to have a sip of wine. Telling you of the vision he had the evening before as you sat in the dining room, you gulped down the beverage as your eyes moved along his body and your mind traveled places it hadn't been in a really long time.

Continuing on with your meal as Brock dropped hint after hint about what he'd like to do to you, you gave as good as you got even though your panties gave away the fact that he was clearly winning. Finally finishing up your meal, Brock rose from the table and holding out his hand to you, asked if he could show you the other place that owned his heart. Agreeing apprehensively as you expected him to lead you to his bedroom, you were both shocked and surprised when he opened a hidden door and led you into the most glorious personal library you had ever seen. Covered in floor to ceiling bookshelves with double doors leading out to a balcony he conveniently told you connected to his bedroom, the two comfy chairs by the fire along with the beautiful mahogany table completed the look.

Taking your hand and leading you further inside, your eyes scanned every inch of the room as his hands and lips began roaming over your delicate skin. Moving up towards your ear as your head fell back against his shoulder, the words whispered by his glorious lips sent a shiver down your spine. "Tell me to stop Missy or I'll make you mine forever."

Thus far too lost in the majestic splendor all around you to take much notice of the look of pure adoration Brock was sending your way, Missy now turned around in his arms to face the man who was slowly working his way into her heart. "I . . . I can't Brock. This vacation was meant to be about me finding time to relax and rediscovering what was missing in my life." you breathed out as his lips and hands continued to play your body as if they'd known it all your life.

"I think we've both discovered what's been missing in our lives, cricket." he whispered, though the acoustics in the room allowed you to hear every word perfectly. "Let me worship you the way you deserve and if I fail to rock your word, you can go back to the city and forget this ever happened."

"And otherwise?" you questioned, wondering where his thoughts were leading him.

"If I deliver," he smirked, "you come live out here with me. We're not far from the city anyway, you said you hate it there and it sounds like your career allows you to work from anywhere." he reasoned

Thinking over this proposal you had to admit, you were intrigued. Living in nature and working away from the city sounded like a dream, but to also have someone like Brock dangled in front of you as a potential lover, now that just seemed like icing on your cake. Trying to think as his fingers began worming their way under your top, your breath hitched and all coherent thought left you as Brock zeroed in on your tits.

"Of yeah." you breathed out as his fingers kneaded your bra-covered mounds and his lips made themselves in the sweet juncture between your neck and shoulder. "That feels so good. Please don't stop." you moaned out as your fingers found their way into his hair.

Pulling back slightly to work your top off your body, it was now his turn to moan at the glorious sight standing before him. With two perky mounds delicately wrapped in midnight blue lace, he couldn't help but give voice to that old saying. "You know, it's been said when a lady wears lingerie this sexy, she expects it to be seen."

Giggling at this remark as his hands moved down to cup your ass, you leaned forward and taking his lower lip between your teeth, bit it gently before moving your hands along his t-shirt covered abs. Feeling the chiseled structure beneath your fingers, Brock looked amused as your brow furrowed while you thought about what you wanted to do next. Leaning forward to place his forehead against yours, Brock didn't help all that much as he tried to egg you on. "Go do it Missy, you know you want to."

Moving your hands once more along his stomach, you winked up at him before placing your hands in front of his throat and successfully ripping his t-shirt down the front. Squealing as this shocked Adonis picked you up and laid you on the rug in front of the fire, it was now your turn to be surprised as his lips descended on your left breast and his hand grabbed hold of the right. Moaning and writhing beneath him as his own incoherent babbling joined you, all sound was replaced with incessant giggling as he began rubbing his stubbled face along your body. Continuing until you were a laughing, tear stained mess, Brock then moved back up your body to worship your breasts the other way but this time his free hand began to work on your jeans. Moving your hands to help him out, he bit into your flesh and when you yelped and slapped his arm playfully, he grabbed hold of your jeans and pulled them apart.

Now kissing and licking all over your panties, he couldn't hide the smirk at the noticeable moisture present there and as his tongue worked you closer and closer to the edge, you screamed to the high heavens when he moved back abruptly and pulled you from the floor. "Blast it Brock, what are you doing? I didn't tell you to stop."

"I know Missy, but maybe you'd treat me to a dance before I ruin you forever." he said as he walked away towards a sound system you only now just noticed.

"No no no . . . You can't. Brock. Do me." Missy whined as he paused to glance over his shoulder to gaze on your near naked form.

"Oh my sweet cricket, how could I deny you anything?" he asked and you would later suspect that all he had been waiting for was you to give in to your desires. Walking back towards you, he lifted you up and this time placing you on the table, began rubbing his jean-clad crotch against your panties. Watching you lose yourself all over again, you decided you had enough however when he leaned forward and kissed your lips before leaning up on his elbows and telling you it was getting late. Finding the same strength you had the previous day, you reached forward and swiftly undoing his belt, successfully maneuvered his jeans and boxers down his legs before reaching out to grasp his semi-hard dumbstick. Hissing as your fingers closed around his shaft, you swatted his hands away as you sat up and began running your hand along his member while it was now his turn to moan above you.

"Oh fuck cricket. Where'd you learn to do that?" he asked as you flicked your wrist before moving down to cup his balls.

Giving a squeeze as you ran your tongue along his neck, your hand returned to his cock as your lips settled by his ear. "Wouldn't you like to know. Now, do you know what to do with that thing or would you like me to show you?"

Laughing that he was getting to see more of that fire he so admired about you, he swiftly removed your panties and running his fingers through your folds, was not at all surprised to find them and you were utterly soaked. Replacing those same fingers with his cock, he moved it back and forth along your pussy a couple of times before plunging it and his fingers into your flower and mouth. Smirking at you as you just lay there, breathing through your nose as he used you how he saw fit, you now knew how it felt to be stuffed to the point of pain and it felt good. Finally removing his fingers from your mouth, you gave voice to the pleasure he was pulling from you as he flipped you over and held your legs as his plunging rod pushed you nearer and nearer to that glorious finish you knew was just within reach. Instinctively knowing you needed a little more, he first decided to have a bit more fun.

"You feel that Missy? Feel what you do to me? Is this what you pictured yesterday as you sat in class ogling my package?"

Biting down on your lip both to keep from crying out at the building pressure and to not answer his question, you stopped being capable of much when he wrapped your legs around his waist, pulled you almost off the the table and held your waist with one hand while his hips pistoned into you at a faster pace. Now grasping the table as best you could while chanting his name over and over and over again, you were shocked that you didn't pass out when his fingers connected with your clit and your walls clamped around him as a powerful orgasm flowed through you.

Whimpering from over-stimulation as he continued to chase his own release, you came once more before you realized Brock still hadn't finished. Begging now for him to stop, he promised you could give him one more, which is exactly what you did as his balls clenched, his thrusts became erratic and you both came to the feeling of warm streams hitting your walls while your release gushed around his still twitching phallus. Easing himself out of your still trembling flower, he picked you up bridal style and carrying you gently to the bedroom, continued into the attached bathroom and turning on the shower, proceeded to wash you both before tenderly laying you down on what felt like a bed of clouds. Whispering words of love as he held you close, you drifted off to sleep in the arms of your childhood friend who years later reminded you that the dreams we dream as kids sometimes do come true.

Tagging: @saiyanprincessswanie

[songofsaraneth]

an incomplete list of the Bullshit ive gone through this year (2021 only), for personal edification:

I am in grad school trying to do research as well as TA a lab class during a global pandemic

My car is broken into in late February outside of my apartment. $1700+ of my backpacking/camping gear and personal items were stolen from it. Ironically they did not find the $20 cash I had. 

Car battery begins mysterious dying if left overnight and have to call for rescue from AAA 4 separate times over the course of March. I suspect it is related to being broken into but can’t prove it without a mechanic’s diagnostics.

First mechanic I bring my car to does nothing for the entire MONTH they have it, except break my air conditioning of all things. I live in a desert. It is now 90º every day. At one point they call me to say they can’t get the back doors to open. I walk 2 miles back to them from campus and demonstrate how the automatic doors work on a 2005 minivan. I begin to have regrets about my mechanic choice but the sunk fallacy cost keeps me there for several weeks.

Mid march I also wake up one day to severe jaw pain/a weird “loose” feeling, like my mouth is slanting sideways. It is midterms and I do not have time for this, so I take a lot of ibuprofen and eat soup for a week. After 3 days I shove pillows and blankets around my face one night to keep my jaw aligned and when I wake up the next morning it is severely tight instead of loose, and I have to carefully stretch it open whenever I leave my mouth closed for more than an hour. I guess I just have TMJ now.

At this point I am walking everywhere until bike supplies arrive to fix my flat tire since the bike store is too far away to walk to; including walking back and forth to campus since I can only bring 2-4 out of 8 students into the lab spaces at a time and so effectively have to run each weekly lab 2-4 times per week; as well as going back and forth for greenhouse experiment monitoring/helping undergrads on our NASA contest project

Early April I go to the dentist for a crown on one of my back molars, which I must pay for out of pocket because my new dental insurance purchased when I moved last September has a 1-year waiting period and so will not cover it ($1200). Stretching my jaw open so far for the procedure reignites my new TMJ back to high pain levels.

While still waiting on car in mid-April I have a severe averse reaction to the second dose of the Covid19 vaccine, resulting in painful ulceration of all the soft tissues in my body (mouth, stomach, genitals). It is a very bad time for 3 days and I book an urgent care appointment for the first time ever.

Urgent Care nurse-practitioner does not believe me when I describe what’s happening, and misdiagnoses me with herpes.

I am still biking everywhere but now I’m extra mad and in pain about it so take car back from mechanic so I can get groceries etc. I make an appointment with the dealership but it will be a week until they can take it. In the meanwhile I have to drive it every 8 hours so it won’t die which means getting up at 2am to drive it for 20 minutes in the middle of the night so it will still turn on in the morning. 

I have a terrible reaction to the numbing cream given to me for the painful open sores over my body, because of a lifelong mint sensitivity, resulting in an even greater amount of pain

The dealership can fix my car over the following week but its $1800 and now insurance isn’t sure they want to cover it after all

Herpes test comes back negative and nurse apologizes profusely and recommends a non-mint OTC numbing cream alternative that works (yay) and a numbing spray that does not work because it turned out to use an alcohol based propellant which should not be combined with open wounds esp on the genitals (ouch ouch ouch). I try to tell the nurse why I was right about my diagnosis and she was wrong but she still believes it was a latent virus of some other variety and and not an immune response alone, despite the published case studies I have brought to back me up. I decide I have bigger hills I need to die on right now and stop arguing. Sores persist into May but eventually do go down and numbing cream keeps me moderately functioning.

Car is fixed and I can drive again but it takes 2 hours of crying on the phone to my insurance company for them to agree to cover the cost of repair

I make a primary care appointment for the first time in years so I can have a doctor in this state if something like this happens to me again, in June I do intake/bloodwork/set up appointments to check out some other issues ive been having

Grad school finals happen which i wont get into but Yeah. Finals stress triggers another outbreak of canker sores, but mostly clustered in my mouth and only 2 on my vulva rather than 8-12. I eat only soup for another week. 

I get a referral to the local mental health clinic and call about setting up an appointment for an ADHD evaluation. They tell me to download and send in some paperwork and they will call when they have available appointments

I am supposed to be doing all my labwork over the summer but the committee member I need escapes my clutches and we don’t manage to set up a meeting to plan it out/for him to explain the protocols until late June

Bloodwork shows I am critically low in vitamin b12 and low in D, which may explain some of why I am so tired all the time

Ultrasound shows a 1.8cm mass in the adnexa near my left ovary. There are several options for what it can be (folicular cyst, other kind of cyst, tumor, ectopic pregnancy i nearly laugh at my Dr and reassure her the last one is not possible if nothing else). It may go away on its own or it may not. Follow up scan in 2 months

I remember I was supposed to email forms to the mental health clinic and finally send those in mid July. It seems cruel to make me be the one to remember this considering I am calling about a formal ADHD diagnosis.

I also finally pin everyone relating to my labwork down and have a follow up meeting + make a list of what we need to order, but the staff who place orders are on vacation and when they get back several reagents are backordered

I have my follow-up ultrasound. The tech takes lots of photos which indicates the mass is still present, but I won’t know any details until my next PCP appointment when they send over the analysis to her in mid-August

Beginning of August the reagents I need for the first steps of the process arrive exactly 1 day before I leave town for a wedding and the lab manager is about to leave town for the entire next week

After the wedding, severe thunderstorms and tornados trap me in Chicago for 4 extra days. I spend a lot of time at the airport or on my way between the airport and my parents house. A facebook friend gets video of the funnel clouds which at least gives me something to sadly email my advisor and committee members when I have to join our planning meeting from my gate at O’Hare

I lose my drivers license at the security checkpoint on my last trip through the airport and don’t realize until I am boarding the plane because of course that is happening to me now

On the shuttle from El Paso back to Las Cruces after this ordeal the driver stops and picks up a box labeled HUMAN BLOOD and puts it in the trunk and i am too tired to care anymore

I stay up all night making the world’s most pitiful r graphs for my meeting the next morning and everyone takes pity on me and does not call out how useless they are

I spend the weekend trying to motivate myself to actually go into the lab and start my procedures, and fail to leave my apartment. This reminds me it has now been a month (Aug 15th) since I sent in my paperwork and the mental health clinic has still not called me back about up an appointment

I get overwhelmed with Everything and make this list

So that’s where I’m at at the moment. And this doesn’t even include anything from 2020 thats just been continuous like, y’know, a global pandemic and having a bad breakup of a 4 year relationship and moving to a new city where I know no one for grad school etc. I feel like I’m falling apart/unable to do all the shit I need to right now but you know what? Actually its been a really bad time and maybe falling apart a little is justified ;_; 

[srirachvbi]

quarantined with you ! (part one)

a/n: this is literally just headcanons on how some of the guys would react to being stuck at home during quarantine lmao (MANGA SPOILERS) also some of these are shorter than the others because i am... lazy ! i’ll try to post more headcanons with different characters for this soon but this has been sitting in my drafts for a while so i wanted to post it Warning(s): mentions of sex but they’re brief and not that detailed, cursing

Bokuto Koutarou

Oh my god this literal CHILD would be a pain in the ass in the beginning

The season had been cancelled due to Miss Rona and he was completely heartbroken

He wasn’t even allowed to go to the gym or even the courts to practice !!

You two didn’t live together yet (you two had been looking at apartments but couldn’t find one that suited either of you at the same time, but your apartment was probably big enough to fit the two of you already) but the minute that quarantine was set in place he literally showed up at your door with his belongings

Surprise! you got yourself a roommate now because he can’t stand being by himself in his lonesome apartment 

LETS PRETEND HE PROBABLY DOESN’T HAVE A HUGE PENTHOUSE BECAUSE HE’S A RICHASS VOLLEYBALL PLAYER ITS CUTER IF HE’S LIVING WITH YOU

It’s not like you’re complaining though-- he’s literally your big baby

Since he can’t go to the gym or the courts, he’d probably go on a really long morning run 

A lot of the time when he wants to run, he’d try to force you to go with him because he wants to spend time with you :(

LMAO sike-- bitch he THOUGHT you’d even think about getting out of bed at SIX IN THE MORNING????

He actually convinced you to go with him once and you refused to go ever again after almost losing a lung

I’m sorry luvs but Bokuto can’t be trusted in the kitchen so you’re either ordering food or cooking for the both of you 

He tries his best tho!!

Since you two have the most time in the world tho, you actually try to teach him how to cook (yikes good luck)

There was a mishap where your apartment almost got burned down but after a while he got his shit together

You: I’m gonna kill myself if you burn down my apartment Kou

Him: haha don’t kill yourself youre so sexy <3

You: perish <3

Honestly, he’d try his best to help you out or cheer you up tho!!

Like, he’s kinda dense and doesn’t really know how to do any household chores but if you’re not feeling great, he’d go out of his way to figure out how to cheer you up

If you’re sad about being stuck inside? Just wait lmao you’re gonna get literally TACKLED cause he !! does !! not !! tolerate !! sadness !! 

You guys would probably do tik tok dances and trends because you’re bored

He’d throw it back on you ngl

After a while, Bo would probably adapt to quarantine and you definitely showed him how to clean a few things so eventually he started to be helpful!!

Weekly facetimes or zoom calls with the other MSBY Black Jackals players because all of them are pressed about quarantine

Bo would probably go back to his apartment every now and then whenever you needed space to do your work/school work!! 

Or he’d bother the shit out of you and complain if you didn’t give him the attention but unimportant

Oh and

y’all would probably get it on like... almost every single night

He just seems like the kind of person to be horny since he’s bored

Your poor bed :(

Baths afterwards were the best part though because !! he’s all warm and bulky

LIKE IMAGINE JUST BEING IN HIS ARMS AJFKLJDF

I’m a Bokuto Simp

n e ways

he’d try to teach you volleyball if you had enough free time (ofc you do) because he gets so bored

If you already know how to play, he’d probably just toss it back and forth because he doesn’t want to hurt his precious s/o with his POWERFUL ass spikes godDAMN

So, yeah Kou would probably be a pain in the ass at first but he’d definitely settle down with the fact that he’s stuck inside with his cuteass s/o 

Him: hey did you know that I love you?

You: SIMP-- wait no, don’t cry baby ily2

Sakusa Kiyoomi

Lmao sorry luvs you ain’t gonna see him <3

The MINUTE he found out that there was a virus, this bitch FLED to his apartment

Like, he stocked up on a TON of supplies and dipped

He literally pulled a “went out to buy some milk” and disappeared off the planet 

Since you’re his s/o, he wouldn’t completely shut you out but he would NOT let you into his apartment unless you avoided all human contact for 14 days and showed no signs of Miss Rona

Honestly, you wouldn’t see him that much because he just... doesn’t want anyone near him

You: :((( bby

Him: Stay away bitch <3 

You two would facetime a lot tho and he’d just nag you about staying healthy because he doesn’t want his s/o to get sick

If you ran out of masks, he’d literally just stick some in a bag outside of his front door and would tell you to pick them up because he will not leave his apartment

He’s the reason that the stores have like... no hand sanitizer

You: don’t be shy !! give some !!

Him: I do not see 👁👄👁

Jk no, he’d put little care packages outside of his apartment for you that are full of cleaning supplies cause he wants you to be healthy

If he has anything delivered to his house, I wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled out a hazmat suit and sprayed that bitch down

He’d definitely call you late at night and the two of you would fall asleep on the call !!

 He’d begrudgingly answer the MSBY zoom calls

Atsumu: Omi Omi~ I’m surprised you haven’t gotten broken up with yet. if I were y/n i would probably drop your ass <3

Him: I hope you die <3 

Okay but once he realizes you’re perfectly healthy, he’ll allow you into his apartment but he forces you to shower before touching him

It’s okay-- you finally get to cuddle your germaphobe bf <3

Okay but he do be kinda horny in quarantine because isn’t everyone so you two seeing each other again was a TRIP

Have fun luvs <3

Kuroo Tetsurou 

Don’t be shy Furudate, tell us where Kuroo is in the final arc <3

Since I have no clue what canon Kuroo is doing, let’s just say he just has a regular job idk 

Since he’s not deemed to be an essential worker, he’s stuck at home with your stupidass <3

Jk- he’s happy to be able to spend time with you 

Definitely spends a lot of his day playing video games with Kenma since Kenma also has a ton of time now (Kenma’s just working from home now and has conference calls every now and then)

I believe that this man would be a decent cook so he’d definitely help or at least convince you to just order some food lmao

You two would spend the first few weeks just watching movies and cuddling or some cute shit idk

Probably horny as fuck so yall would be busy for a bit

You two would have the stupidest conversations in the middle of the day while you two were just staring at the ceiling 

You: if cows ruled the world, would they drink human milk?

Him: omg you’re onto something there

Idk you’d probably be roasting the shit out of each other too

Him: did i ever tell you that you look like a rat baby?

You: perish <3

You’d take turns with who would cook dinner and who would clean it up because there needs to be a system or else youre both not eating or not having an apartment that is tolerable to live in

Okay but like... I think that he’d look at those cooking tik toks and would be like “i’m going to make this bitch”

does it work? sometimes. does it taste good? give or take

Like, some of them SLAP but others just... don’t look anything like the end result that the video showed

he’d definitely try to make you work out with him and sometimes it worked

A lot of the time tho, you’d just laugh at him

You: I’ll just watch you here dw luv

Him: I know you wanna look at my arms wackass 

He’d definitely spend hours upon hours playing video games with Kenma

Like,,, you wouldn’t see him move for hours but every now and then you’d hear him scream LMAO

Honestly it would be pretty fun to be quarantined with this bitch 

idk he’s not gonna burn your house down, not be able to clean shit, and he’d also be a lot of fun to joke around with so I see nothing wrong with this bitch <3

[dameronology]

the one that got away {poe x reader}

summary: based on the song the one that got away by katy perry 

this song has been my jam since i was about 11 and i’m now closer to being 20 than i am to being 11 and that’s making me panic! everywhere and not just exclusively at the disco but it made me produce this 

warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of smut 

enjoy, 

- jazz

Poe Dameron had always believed in true love.

He saw it not only within his parents’ relationship but everywhere he looked: in the couple who lived next door to his childhood home, in the bar where he worked during his time at the academy, in couples walking down the street. It was everywhere and nowhere; the kind of thing that you could feel in your soul but never physically grasp - or, at least that had been his initial understanding of it. 

Then Poe met you.

That was how he realised that love was very much something he could physically feel. Not only could he feel it, he could see it and he could hear it and he could finally understand it. You were the answer to every question he’d ever had. 

He could feel it whenever you held his hand and he could hear it whenever you laughed at one of his terrible jokes. Whenever he simply looked at you - whether it was under the blinding morning light or simply the outline of your and against his chest in the dark - it was there. What had started as a stupid fling in the academy had turned into something more. You were his whole world, his everything.

Poe was your soulmate; your best friend and your partner-in-crime (or as you had affectionally dubbed him, your poetner-in-crime). You were always on the same wavelength, emitting the same chaotic energy and terrible jokes. You had each other’s backs to no end, the kind of bond that spanned the galaxy and back ten times over. The love between was the kind that very few people were lucky enough to experience. 

‘Poe, quick!’ 

You were tearing down the corridor, fingers intertwined. Almost tripping over each other, you skidded around a corner and into a dark classroom, slamming the door behind you. You fell back against the door, Poe’s arms on either side of you as he leant against you, body shaking with laughter.

‘His face!’ The pilot could barely control his laughter. ‘Maker, I’ve never seen the guy so angry.’

‘That’ll teach him to fuck with us again.’ You smiled.

‘Us.’ Poe repeated your words back to you.

‘Yeah?’ You grin grew wider. You pushed a few strewn, dark curls back off his face. ‘Me too.’

‘I love you.’ His hand ghosted your cheekbone, resting on your face for a moment. 

‘I love you too.’ You leant up to kiss him, revelling in the feeling of his lips against yours. It was the feeling of home; warm and soft and welcoming all at once. 

‘Forever?’

‘Forever.’ 

Nothing could come between you - until it did.

The war. 

The beginning of another civil war were in the making. People who had lived through the first one had the same sense of unease they did the first time around; the appearance of more TIE fighters in the sky, more recruits coming to the academy, training increasing tenfold. There was discontent across the galaxy and nobody knew what was coming. 

Poe left first. He was a few years ahead of you in terms of training, having been piloting since he was a kid. That, paired with his admirable recklessness and natural leadership, made him perfect for the Resistance. You were his whole damn world but he had to fight for the galaxy; a galaxy in which you could both have a future. 

‘I guess this is it.’ 

You were stood in front of Poe’s X-Wing, hands shakily intertwined as you tried your hardest not to digest what was happening. If you did, he would probably try to say. Or worse, you would try to go with him before you were ready. 

‘It’s only a few months.’ Poe’s voice was wobbly, and he gripped your hands tighter. ‘A year at most, and then you’ll come out and join me. Right?’

‘Right.’ You nodded, a tear splashing down your cheek. ‘And we’ll talk all the time. Beebs always knows where to find me.’

‘I love you.’ He pressed his forehead to yours, lips momentarily brushing together as he trembled. ‘I love you so much.’

‘I love you too.’ You murmured. ‘If this is it, I’m always going-’

‘- we literally just said.’ Poe almost reeled back. ‘We’re going to see each other again.’

‘But if we don’t-’

‘- say it.’ Poe’s voice was firm, his grip on your hands inhumanly tight. ‘Say that we’ll see each other again. Promise me.’

You sighed, trying to calm yourself for a moment. You wanted to be hopeful, to think of a future where two could find your way back to each other - but you had a feeling that wasn’t going to be the case. The galaxy was getting darker and darker by the day and the light at the end of the tunnel seemed impossibly far away. 

‘I promise.’ The words were barely a whisper.

‘Take this.’ Poe reached up to the chain around his neck, pulling the ring off. 

‘Poe, I can’t ask that of you-’

‘- you’re not asking. I’m telling.’ He shook his head. Taking your hand in his, he slipped his mother’s ring across your middle finger. ‘Forever, right?’

‘Forever.’

You would both come to learn that forever was a long time - almost as long as the months you spent apart. 

At first, you would talk every day. You would talk to him via the holo-link in your droids, sharing stories about your day and talking about what you were going to do when you saw each other again. It felt like you were hopelessly clinging onto a distant dream, desperately wishing that the promises you were making could ever be fulfilled. You spoke about where you were going to live (Coruscant, probably) and what you were going to name your kids (Leo for a boy, Shara for a girl). 

But then your calls became less and less regular. Poe was being taken all over the galaxy on his missions and you were busy trying to finish your training. What had been a daily thing turned into one of a weekly nature, and before you knew it, it was a two-or-three-times a month affair.

You were tired whenever you spoke, and Poe was grumpy. You’d been worn down with your training and his body had been torn through eleven different timezones in a week. The hope that you’d both once had was almost completely faded, replaced with concern for the war. All your energy was going into fighting - sometimes for the Resistance, sometimes with each other.

Then the calls stopped. 

You couldn’t exactly recall when you realised it was over but some part of you just knew; there was no conversation, no closure. It was over, just like that. You didn’t even have time to think about it or to cry about it. The fact that you’d lost Poe Dameron was just a reality of life - a painful one, but a reality nonetheless. 

You took the ring off, putting it in a safe space to give back to him should you ever cross paths again. You wouldn’t - not for a few years. 

Almost a year to the day that Poe left, Leia Organa recruited you into the Resistance. It was a different base to your former love, systems away in the Outer Rim. Your work was focused mostly on communications and collecting data for building new bases. It felt good to finally be doing your part for the cause but you couldn’t help but feel like something was missing. 

(It was Poe. Poe was the thing that was missing). 

Time flew by. You were jumping between planets, having a few near misses and experiencing your first real sense of loss; not only for your flyboy, but for your team-mates who didn’t make it back. You were haunted with thoughts of the same thing happening to Poe, of the idea that he could have already left for his last mission without knowing it.

So, you started wearing the ring again. Even when you met somebody new - Perry, a six-foot-tall blonde gunner with a kind smile and a moderate sense of humour - you kept it on. You wore it when you kissed Perry for the first time and you wore it when he declared his love for you. 

He wasn’t Poe. He didn’t hold your hand the way Poe did or kiss you in the way that Poe did. He didn’t make you laugh like him or smile like him or feel like him. He wasn’t the same. Nobody could ever compare but you weren’t going to find the love of your life twice. It was like you’d won the lottery on your first ticket. Nobody won the jackpot twice. 

‘This is the bar that Leia said most of the other guys went to.’

You and Perry were stood outside a cantina; it was dark on Ajan Kloss, the sky lit in a low navy colour by the yellow of the moon. The signs of the establishment flashed before you, a welcome invitation away from the cold night. The air inside was stuffy in comparison, smelling of stale beer and filled with the sound of other Resistance pilots chortling and chatting. 

You were on a two-day lay over at another base. The whole squad needed a drink, given how rough the mission had been - whilst they sat down, you ditched your jacket and headed to the bar up front. 

Falling against the wooden counter, you let out a small oof! as somebody dropped against the bar next to you, He was too busy talking to someone, but you could have recognised him from anywhere. 

Poe Dameron had a warm presence; there was an aura about him, something welcoming and sweet. He still wore the same after shave and laughed with his whole body - that’s how you knew it was him. 

‘Poe.’ Your words weren’t really there, but he still managed to hear you.

‘Yeah?’ He spun around, doing a double take when he saw you. ‘Oh, shit.’

He looked tired; his hair was still dark and curly, but littered with more greys than it had been five years ago. His warm brown eyes were decorated with dark circles and he had a five-o-clock shadow on his chin. Still, he looked good. 

‘I - wow.’ You couldn’t find the words. ‘Hi.’

‘Hi.’ A small smile fell onto Poe’s lips. ‘Hi.’

A moment later, he had dropped his drink and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest. He hadn’t held you since the day he’d left all those years ago; a day that felt so alien to you both. Your immediate feeling was one of relief - Poe Dameron was alive, drinking in a bar and doing exactly what he said he’d always would (saving the galaxy). 

‘You’re...’ You trailed off, pulling back to stare at him. ‘You’re alive.’

‘Just about.’ Poe smiled at you. ‘And so are you - and you’re a Lieutenant.’

‘You’re a commander.’ Your eyes fell to the markings on his jacket. ‘That’s amazing, Poe.’

You were both thinking the same thing: we should have done it together. 

You should have been there to witness him rising through the ranks and he should have been there to welcome you to the Resistance with open arms. But life could be a bitch and she’d dealt you both the worst cards. The galaxy had done everything within its power to tear you apart.

‘It’s so good to see you.’ Poe bit his lip, brown eyes refusing to move from holding your gaze. ‘I know that we said-’

‘- don’t mention it.’ You shook your head. ‘We were pretty fucking naive, right?’

‘Right.’ He breathily laughed, nodding. ‘I still think about you, though.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah.’ He smiled. ‘I think about the academy, and the day I left and - is that my mum’s ring?’

Poe’s eyes had fallen to your hand, where the metallic band still sat on your middle finger. You’d always promised yourself to give it back if you ever had the chance. After all, it was supposed to be a symbol of commitment, of your love for one another. It was a promise you’d made to each other before either of you knew what shit life was going to throw your way. 

‘Oh, yeah.’ You went to pull it off. 

‘No.’ Poe moved his hand to cover yours. ‘Keep it.’

‘Poe, it’s yours.’ You reminded him.

‘And I gave it to you.’ He replied. ‘I know...I know things didn’t go the way we wanted but I still mean everything I said.’

You smiled, nodding. ‘Thank you. Me too.’

‘Are you around later?’ Poe asked. ‘We should catch up. There’s a lot to talk about, right?’

‘Of course.’ You took a sip of your drink. ‘I’m staying in-’

‘- babe!’ Perry’s voice suddenly cut between the two of you. Your boyfriend appeared beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist. ‘What’s taking so long?’

Oh, yeah. Him. 

Maybe you weren’t around tonight. 

Five minutes with Poe Dameron had been enough to make you forget two years with your current boyfriend. He’d made you feel more in that brief conversation that Perry had in your whole relationship.

You didn’t mean to compare them, truly. It was just that there was no coming back from Poe Dameron; he was your soulmate then and you had a feeling he was your soulmate now. In fact, it wasn’t just a feeling; it was a certainty. 

That was what you told yourself when you snuck out of bed that night to see Poe. 

It was what you told yourself when he kissed you for the first time in five years. 

It was what you told yourself when you made love for the first time in five years. 

But repeating it over and over in your head wasn’t enough to make you stay the next morning. Even when you woke up in his arms, pressed against his bare chest with scratches on your back and bruises on your thighs, finally feeling like you were at home for the first time in five years, you couldn’t convince yourself to stay. You couldn’t fall back to him; you couldn’t let yourself get hurt all over again.

Perry didn’t ask where you went that night - and you never told him. 

You didn’t confess when he found you the next day and he confessed his love for you. You didn’t confess when he asked you to marry him six months later. 

There was now another ring sat next to Poe’s; shiny and expensive and far too big for your hands. It was where his ring should have been; instead, Shara Bey’s ring stayed on your middle finger, a constant reminder of what could have been - of what should have been. 

You were glad for that night with Poe. It felt like a goodbye for you both; like you’d finally got closure. At the same time, you didn’t want your time with Poe to reach a conclusion - you still wanted to hold out hope that the promises you’d made as a twenty-something would come true. You were engaged to marry another man but for some reason, you couldn’t see a future with anyone else.

Then there came a point where you couldn’t see a future at all. 

The First Order was closing in; the war was getting rougher and rougher. There were losses left right and centre. Missions were becoming longer and darker. The bags under your eyes were getting darker and each day, you strayed further and further from the light. It was hard to hold on, hard to see past the dark forces at play. 

That’s when you’d think back to another time; six or seven years prior, when it was just you and Poe against the world. You’d let your mind wander back to the times that you would stay up late, laughing and crying together. You remembered all the pacts and promises you’d made. How did you get here? 

Before you knew it, you were back on Ajon Kloss. Everyone had gathered to begin making preparations for the final battle. Nobody was calling it that - final was too scary of a word, after all - but everybody knew it. You were powering up your jet for what felt like the last time. 

‘Trident Squad, you’ll be behind Dagger. You know your orders.’

You were hardly listening to your commander, hands shaking as you played with the straps of your helmet. You were leaning against your X-Wing, trying to calm your breaths with clammy hands and a pounding chest. 

‘Hey.’ 

You looked up, eyes meeting Poe’s. Despite everything, you smiled. ‘Hey.’

‘You got engaged?’ His words were breathless. There was no greeting, no question of how you were. There was just the hurt in his words; the disbelief and the grief. 

‘I got engaged.’

‘Fuck.’ 

‘Fuck?’

‘Fuck.’

‘Yeah, you’re right.’ You nodded. ‘Fuck.’

Dropping your helmet to the ground, you met Poe half-way across the gap between you. He took you in his arms, lifting you off the ground for a moment as your bodies collided. He held you in his arms, a sad imitation of the last time you’d been stood together in front of an X-Wing. 

‘Do you...’ your words were muffled by his shoulder. ‘Are you sure you don’t want your ring back?’

‘That’s what I was trying to say last time I saw you.’ Poe put you back down; his hands stayed on your waist. ‘My mum told me to give it to whoever I wanted to spend my life with.’

‘Poe-’

‘- I know.’ He cut you off. ‘You promised to marry Pete-’

‘- Perry-’

‘- whatever.’ You couldn’t help but laugh at his flippancy. ‘Just because I can’t spend my life with you doesn’t mean I can’t want to.’

‘That makes no sense.’

‘None of this makes sense.’ Poe corrected you. ‘Normally I’m more than happy to respect the boundaries of another guys relationship but...but it’s you.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I gotta ask.’ He have your hips a light squeeze. ‘If we make it out alive, there’s no chance at all that you and I can finally be together?’

‘Poe, I-’

‘- Captain!’ The sound of your commander’s voice came from around the corner. ‘We’re heading out now! Power up!’

‘I have to go.’ You took a step backwards, but he still clung onto your hands. 

‘I love you.’ Poe gave you a watery smile.

‘I know.’

‘Forever?’

‘Forever.’ 

tags: @blacksquadron-rougetwo​ @drinksomecoco​ @obi-wankenobae​

[spicedcinnamoncake]

Pins and Needles  pairing: George Weasley x American !Gryffindor Reader Summary: Who knew that the shy new kid had a way with sewing? To George, that’s pretty cool.  TW: fluffy 💕💕 2.4K Words

   You looked around your dorm and began to unpack. You came in a week after term started and you needed to unpack your things. Luckily, it was Saturday and lessons wouldn’t be a problem. Everyone was buzzing about the weekly trip to Hogsmeade in the halls, and it peeked your interest. Sure you didn’t have anyone to go with, but this could be a good way to make some friends. 

  You had just arrived in England from America, and had just started Hogwarts. Everyone was a stranger here, and you were on the lookout for some new people to hang out with. 

  You pulled a hoodie over your T-shirt and tightened the laces on your boots before locking your dorm and running downstairs into the courtyard where everybody was waiting for the sendoff. You showed McGonagall your signed permission slip and joined the group. 

  The walk was rather pleasant. You took in the scenery, all the trees with red yellow and brown leaves falling in the breeze and the sound of branches rusting against each other filled the air as you and the rest of year 5 of Hogwarts walked to Hogsmeade. 

  Hogsmeade was a cute little town, with shops and cafe’s and cobblestone streets. You walked along the cobble and followed the rest of the kids as you didn’t know the area very well. You saw a majority of people go into a place called Honeydukes. 

  From the moment you stepped inside you could tell why that place was so popular. The shelves were loaded with sweets and tricks, excited people grabbing stuff like crazy. You walked along the shelves, half of the treats you haven’t even heard of. Bertie bots and chocolate frogs and pumpkin pasties... I guess a chocolate frog sounded good. You had a few coins in your pocket, why not? 

  You picked one off the shelf and began to walk as you read the labelling. You were so distracted that you didn’t even realize the person standing in front of you...

  ‘Oof!’ You fell over on your knees, the small candy falling out of your hand. ‘Oh shoot, I am so sorry-’ 

  ‘Nah, It’s alright. Need help?’ 

  You grabbed the strangers hand and hoisted yourself up. You were met with a pair of hazel eyes and flaming red hair. This mystery guy had a spattering of freckles across his cheeks and nose. He gave you a small smile and handed you back your frog. ‘Think you dropped this.’ 

  ‘Oh, thanks.’ You took back the frog and stuffed it into your pocket. ‘Hey, I don’t think I’ve seen you before. I’m George, you?’

  ‘Oh, I’m Y/N, I’m new here.’ 

  George’s eyes widened at your accent. He grinned and fiddled with the end of his sleeve. ‘Would you want to come with me and my brother to the Three Broomsticks? It’s got the most amazing butterbeer in England.’ 

  You smiled at the offer. ‘Sure, why not?’ 

  You payed the five nuts for the frog. (You ended up getting Dumbledore) And followed George to the place he was talking about. He was ever so funny, cracking you up in no time with jokes. He told you all about Hogwarts and how you would love it there. 

  ‘So, which house are you in?’ 

  ‘Oh, I’m in Gryffindor. ‘ 

  George looked at you and beamed. ‘That’s my house as well!’ 

  You two laughed at the coincidence, finally drawing up to the Three broomsticks and going inside. You were met with the strong smell of cinnamon and coffee, and the warm air hit your skin as you went further inside. George led you to a table were a few others were sitting. Another boy who looked identical to George who turned out to be his twin Fred, another boy with red hair who was his brother Ron, a girl named Hermione and a smaller boy named Harry. 

  ‘Guys, this is Y/N, their new here. Their from America, AND their in Gryffindor.’ 

  Everyone said hello, they all seemed so friendly. You sat in between George and Hermione, who asked you tons of questions about America, which you expected might happen at your new school. 

  You all ordered Butterbeer, and Fred and George laughed as you chugged the entire mug after the first sip. George elbowed you and smirked. ‘Told you it’s good.’  You rolled you eyes and giggled. 

  From that day on, the five of you became inseparable. You always hung out, and before you knew it it was already nearing summer break. 

  ‘Ah, summer!’ You sighed as you slumped against a tree in the field you guys were hanging out in, stretching your legs out as you looked up though the green leaves. ‘I’m gonna miss you guys. Welp, at least I’ll see you guys next year.’ 

  Hermione elbowed Ron, who cleared his throat. “speaking of which, Y/N would you liked to come to the burrow this summer? Everyone does, even if it’s only for a week. Mum takes us to Diagon alley before school so we can get our stuff. It’s always fun, you should come.’ 

  You thought about it, and it did sound like fun. “sure, i’ll ask my parents, I’m sure they’d like me out of their hair for a bit.’ 

  George and Fred whooped and you smiled. This should be fun. 

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

  You clutched the backpack on your shoulder and gulped. You had been so excited but now you were so nervous. What if they got sick of you? What if you became a burden?’ 

  You took a deep breath and stepped into the fireplace after hugging your parents goodbye. You erupted into green flames and in moment you found yourself in a slightly smaller fireplace. You stepped out and immediately recognized the voices of your friends. ‘Oi Fred! Y/N’s here!’ 

  George called up the stairs to his brother before rushing over to you and wrapping his arms around you. You giggled as he lifted you slightly. ‘Don’t suffocate me Georgie.’ You joked. George put you down and grinned. ‘Missed you.’ 

  You noticed a faint shade of red start to spread across his face. You didn’t get to think much of it though because of all the people that entered the living room moments later. You hugged Fred, Harry, Ron and Hermione before shaking hands with Mr. Weasley and received an even tighter hug from Mrs. Weasley. You met Percy and Ginny, who both seemed really nice. Percy a bit uptight, but you thought nothing of it. 

  ‘You’ll be sharing with Hermione and Ginny, just upstairs dear.’ Mrs. Weasley said, before rushing to the kitchen.     ‘Ok, Thanks Mrs. Weasley!’

  ‘Just call me Molly dear!’ 

  You smiled and turned to George. ‘Your mum’s really nice.’ 

  George grinned. ‘Need help with your bag?’ 

  ‘Nah, I’m good.’ 

  You followed Hermione and Ginny to Ginny’s room. It was small, but cozy. You put your bag down on your place on the floor. 

  ‘Nice room Gin! I really like it.’ 

  ‘Thanks Y/N’ 

  The three of you talked until Molly called you down to dinner. You made it official in your head that Molly Weasley had the absolute best cooking ever. The food practically melted in tour mouth, and you stared in awe as the dishes got cleaned by magic, washing themselves. The burrow is honestly the most magical place you have ever seen aside from Hogwarts. 

  The summer was amazing, You, George, Fred, Ron, Harry, Hermione and Ginny all going on walks and playing card games and having mini games of quidditch. Soon, it was already time to go to Diagon Alley. 

  ‘Hurry up Y/N, we’re just about leaving!’ Hermione said as you grabbed the big cloth bag out of your backpack. You and her hurried downstairs were everyone else was gathered. One by one, everyone erupted into green flames and arrived into the large are known as diagon alley. Shops lined the streets and there were people and children running everywhere. ‘Now children, we meet here in exactly an hour ok?’ Molly said, and everyone nodded. George grabbed hold of your arm and tugged you with him. ‘Seeing as this is your first time here, i volunteer to be your guide.’ You giggled and went with him. 

  You two walked and chatted, going in and out of stores. George goggled at how cute you looked when your face lit up at the box of kittens in one of the animal shops. You tugged George inside. Owls were on perches, rats in brass cages running on top of landings and down again, and the faint mewing of cats in the distance. 

  ‘Oh George they are so cute, don’t you think so!?” You cooed as you picked up a calico kitten who purred as you stroked it. ‘Your cute.’ George mumbled. ‘You snapped your head around, and he turned a dangerously visible shade of red. You smirked. ‘Your not so bad yourself Weasley.’ 

  You beamed as be blushed harder. You put down the cat and took his hand, leading him out of the store. You two were about to go back to the meeting place when one store caught your eye. ‘George, I need to go in there. I’ll be right out I promise.’ 

  ‘Slow down darling I’ll come with you.’ 

  You entered the store and you gawked in awe at the amount of fabric, thread, and buttons inside. You were practically in heaven. 

  You ran your hand down the different fabrics, checking the prices. ‘I didn’t know you were into sewing.’ George said, examining a cotton sheet. ‘Like sewing? Georgie my dear, sewing is my LIFE’. You tugged at the shirt you were wearing, made out of black cotton. ‘I made this last winter.’ 

  George’s eyes widened. ‘YOU made that? It’s so good!’

  You blushed at his appreciation. You picked a few pieces of fabric and paid, putting them in the bag and you and George exited the shop, meeting with everyone else. ‘Mum! Y/N’s into that sewing thing as well you know?’ 

  ‘Oh that’s interesting! What sort of stuff do you make?’ 

  You looked at your shirt and the bag in your bag. ‘I make most of my own clothes, like this shirt I’m wearing.’ 

  Molly looked amazed and you two gambled off about sewing and knitting and whatnot. George and Fred just laughed, George thought of it as cute though. He already had this itching crush for you from the moment he met you and the fact that you got on so well with his mum just made his heart flutter. 

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

  It was the beginning of term, and you were now sharing a room with Hermione. Your desk was littered with scrap pieces of fabric, and scattered needles. Hermione’s was depressingly neat. 

  You were wearing a pin cushion on your arm, trying to fix the hem of your robe because it ripped when somebody knocked on the door. ‘Come in!’   

  George entered the room, his hair messed up. He must’ve just got out of quidditch you assumed. When Hermione saw who was at the door, she shut the book she was reading and stood up from her bed. ‘I’m going to go see what Harry and Ron are doing.’ 

  Once she left, you two were alone. ‘Come in, what’s up?’ You gestured towards the space next to you on your bed. George came over, propping himself up with his arm before pulling his hand away, yelping. ‘What? What’s wrong?”

  Your eyes filled with worry as George examined his hand. He picked up a small pin from the cover and handed it to you. ‘Think this belongs to you.’ 

  ‘Oh dear sorry, I’m working on my robe you see, it ripped and i was fixing it.’ You put the pin back in the pin cushion and took George’s hand into your own, gently massaging the area of impact. 

  George turned a bright shade of pink as your delicate fingers ran over his palm. ‘It’s alright Y/N.’ 

  ‘So, how was quidditch?’ You asked, resuming your work. George cleared his throat, looking shyer then usual. ‘Uh, practice was good. Speaking of which, I, uh, managed to rip my jersey on the goal post. I was wondering if you could fix it for me?’ 

  ‘Uh-huh, sure just hand it to me.’ 

  You were so engrossed in your work you didn’t even realize that George was shirtless in  front of you. You looked up when he handed you his ripped jersey. You examined the area where the rip was. ‘Oh sweetie this can be fixed in two stitches, you-’ 

  Your eyes gawked at him. When did this boy get to be so fine? You felt yourself go red, before you decided to turn it into a joke so he wouldn’t notice you being embarrassed. ‘Did you find a small hole just you could see me? Hmmm?’ You smirked, thinking you could tease him, until he said his reply:

  ‘Yes that’s exactly what I did.’ 

 You paused, needle halfway though the fabric. You looked up at him, he tried to cover himself up with his arms, his face bright red. ‘Well, I enjoy your company.’ 

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Also when did you get to be so dang hot?’ 

  You smirked as you saw him get even redder. ‘T-thanks.’ 

  ‘Your welcome... there you are, all fixed.’ You handed him the jersey, the hole all patched up. George slid it on, you watched the shirt over his abs. ‘Look in the right sleeve.’ 

  George turned his right sleeve inside out, only to see a tiny embroidered heart in light pink stitches. ‘Aw, that’s so cute!’  George gushed. You felt pleased. 

  ‘Well, I better get going.’ George said, standing up. ‘Awe man, leaving me already?’ You pulled a pouty-face, and you saw the nervousness in his eyes. ‘Of course I’ll stay.’

  You two talked for what seemed like hours, that is until the dinner bell rang. You helped George up, but not before he pressed a small kiss to your cheek. He left without a word after that. You stood there speechless, tracing the area where his lips had been seconds before. 

  You turned to your bed and screamed into a pillow. Oh merlin he kissed you! 

  The next day you caught him in the hall. Without saying a word, you managed to drag him into a quiet hallway, were nobody else was wandering. 

  You pressed him to a wall and kissed him. You were craving the taste of his lips for a while, and now you finally got his. George melted into you, he hitched you up by your legs, you wrapped them around his waist and you tangled your hands into his hair. You two had waited long enough for this, and this was complete and utter euphoria. 

  Once he pulled away, he smirked. ‘What is is?’ You asked. 

  ‘Oh, let’s just say that I’ve been on pins and needles waiting for this.’  

[hiscyarika]

When We Were Young

Word Count: 3.6k

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Summary: Reader is the woman that Javier left behind on the day they were to be married. She sees him again ten years later, when he returns to Laredo for a short break from hunting Escobar.

Warning(s): Angst, Strong Language 

A/N: This is the first Javier fic that I’ve ever written, so if there are any glaring factual errors, please let me know. This is based off the song by Adele but I listened to this version as I wrote. I encourage you to listen to it as you read for the Full Experience.

Masterlist 

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There is nothing special about your Thursday afternoon trip to the little grocery store on the corner. You’re always in and out in about twenty minutes with the few things that you need to get through another week in your little Texas apartment. You always smile and wave at the pharmacist behind the counter. You chat with the elderly woman, Elaine, that always comes at the same time you do, helping her get the two cans of green beans she needs when she can’t reach the shelf.

It was the same every time.

Until you reached for the loaf of bread on the highest shelf of the aisle.

A much larger hand lands on top of yours, though immediately is drawn back at the contact. You hear a soft apology and a half-hearted chuckle. The sound of the man’s voice sends your heart racing, and you turn to face him.

You take a step back as you meet the eyes of Javier Peña, the bread long forgotten as a quiet gasp escapes your lips. It’s been years since the last time you saw him, since he left you standing on the altar of the little church down the street. He’d moved to Colombia without a word to you, leaving his entire life behind to chase after Pablo Escobar. You only knew what happened to him after that day because his family was so close to yours.

“Javier…,” you finally breathe, hating the way your chest is constricting and your throat is growing tight with the threat of tears. You shouldn’t be this upset. You should be angry. He left you without a word and still years later you’ve never gotten an apology either.

Javier feels his heart sink to his stomach when he realizes that it’s you standing in front of him. It’s been nearly a decade since the last time he saw you. The years have been kind to you, much more so than they’ve been to him. He has so many things that he wants to say to you now, so many questions he wants to ask, but instead he keeps his mouth shut.

He murmurs your name in reply, giving a slight nod of his head. There are a thousand things running through your head, but you settle on the simplest question of them all. “What are you doing here?” It’s not a demand. You’re simply curious. After all, he’s been the talk of the town since he started working with the DEA to take down Escobar. And with the drug lord still out there, you’re not sure why he would choose now to come back to Laredo.

Javier doesn’t answer immediately, trying to process the fact that your first instinct was not to lose your temper. He deserved that and more after the suffering he had put you through. He can still remember his father’s voice on the other end of the phone, not sparing any detail of your pain when they’d told you that your groom had run off.  Just the thought leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

“I, uh...have some time off. My partner pretty much demanded that I get out of Colombia and come back home for a little while. Bastard practically shipped me off himself,” he told you, his hands coming to rest on his hips.

“Does anyone know you’re home yet?,” you ask. He had to have kept his arrival a secret for you to not have known he was coming. Word travels fast in your small corner of Texas. Word about Javier Peña travels even faster.

Javier shakes his head. “Just Pops. He asked me to make a run for a few things so now everybody in Laredo will know before tomorrow morning.” He shakes his head slightly. He never wanted to be a celebrity.

“Well, tell the family I said hi. I should...get going,” you say softly. You move past Javier and head for the door. Your weekly shopping trip will have to wait.

Javier quickly turns to follow you, his hand darting out to catch your forearm. “Wait! I...I wanna talk to you, if you’ll let me. Let me buy you a drink one night while I’m here,” he pleads, his expression softening as you stop in your tracks and look at him again. He doesn’t try to hold on when you take your arm from his grasp.

“I don’t know about that, Javi. It was a long time ago. I’ve moved on and let go.” Even as the words escape your mouth though, you know they’re not true. For a while you thought you had truly healed from the loss of losing Javier, but with him standing in front of you now, you know that there’s at least a small part of you that will always love him, will always ache for what could have been.

“Please. I–”

“Goodbye, Javi. Welcome home,” you interject, cutting him off before he can say anything else, before you can lose the composure that you’re already barely holding on to.

With that, you leave the little grocery store and start the short walk back to your apartment. You have to force yourself not to look back. That would be the straw to break the camel’s back.

Javier watches you for as long as he can, and even when you’ve gone beyond his eyeshot he still stands there, frozen in place and time. He’s always known that leaving you behind was wrong, but seeing you again now, it’s made him realize that not showing up that day was the worst mistake of his life.

---

When you shut the door of your apartment behind you, the tears you’ve been holding back finally escape you, falling in silent waves down your cheeks. The flood of longing drowns you, leaving your chest aching as you stand there, wondering what the hell you’re supposed to do with yourself now.

Pulling yourself together for just a moment, you go into your kitchen, taking the half-empty bottle of red wine from your refrigerator and taking it upstairs to your room. You’ve already been forced to walk memory lane, you might as well finish the course.

There’s a box buried in the back of your closet. It’s no bigger than a shoebox, and years of neglect have left it dented and beaten. It takes you some time to find it, but when you do, the tears start all over again. The only indication of its contents are the two words written on the lid in Javier’s handwriting: “Mi Amor.” You sink to the floor with the box tucked under your arm and the bottle of wine in your hand. Settling with your back against your nightstand, you take a swig straight from the bottle before opening the box.

The first thing you pull from the box is a set of old Polaroids. The dates are all written on the back, spanning from your late teen years until just a few months before your would-have-been nuptials. They’re all pictures of you and Javier, and you find yourself smiling wistfully at a candid your mother took the day you helped move him into his dorm at Texas A&I. He’s got his arms wrapped around you from behind, face buried in the crook of your neck. Your face is bright with a smile, but the old picture is hiding the tears you remember blurring your vision. He’d only be a few hours away, but anything more than right down the road had been too far.

You go through more of the box, steadily draining the bottle of wine at your side until it’s finally empty. You’ve found old keepsakes, like the dried-out corsage from senior prom and a stolen takeout menu that you’d sketched his face onto during a dinner date. There’s old letters from your college separation, filled with lofty promises and declarations of love. All are lovely reminders of what had been.

It’s not until you find a wedding invitation near the bottom that you really begin to fall apart.

Your grandmother had insisted on getting them made, even though you didn’t think it was necessary. Everyone in Laredo knew when and where the wedding was, and to you and Javier it didn’t matter much how many people showed up in the end. You run your thumb along the edges of the thick cardstock, warped and yellowed from a decade of sitting untouched. You then hold it close to your chest, taking care not to let your tears fall onto it and further damage it.

If you had been entirely sober, you would think this whole display was pathetic. Things are different now. You’re not a lovestruck young woman eagerly awaiting a new chapter of life. You’ve made a life for yourself, diving headfirst into your career. It’s a life without Javier, one that you can’t even wish to bring him into. And yet, that’s exactly what you’ve found yourself doing.

You come undone when you get to the bottom of the box.

You didn’t know they were there. You don’t know how they made it to this box. Your best guess is your mother. But in a tiny drawstring pouch are three rings: your engagement ring and the two silver bands meant for you and Javier.

Sharp, painful sobs break from your chest. You throw everything haphazardly back into the box and press the lid back down. With as much force as you can muster, you push it across the floor, watching it slide until it hits the wall and comes to a stop. You rest your head back against your nightstand, squeezing your eyes shut. It feels like you’re in that back room of the church again, surrounded by yours and Javier’s family, the world crashing around you as his father delivers the news that Javier is gone.

You hate him. You hate him for what he did to you, what his return is doing to you now.

But you’ll be damned before you admit that you don’t still love him too.

---

You’re not sure why you let your mother drag you back to the Peñas’ ranch two nights later. Though you didn’t tell her about your run-in with Javier at the store, she knows he’s home. She knows that he’ll be there. Hell, Pops had arranged the little get together just to celebrate his son’s unexpected homecoming.

And yet you’ve taken more care with your appearance than normal, being more careful with your makeup and making sure that while your outfit isn’t overdressed for the evening, it still looks nice. You’re at war with yourself, wanting to be angry and distant with Javier, but you know that there’s no way you can hold yourself to that. And you’re sure that he won’t let the night pass without trying to talk to you again, without trying to make you understand why things ended the way that they did.

You sigh softly as you walk with your mother to the old barn. It’s been cleaned up and turned into an event venue, and your heart clenches as you realize that this was where your wedding reception should have been.

Your heartbreak doesn’t last long, because before you even see him coming, Javier’s dad has you wrapped up in a tight hug, which you are more than happy to return. You love this man like family, and he’s done nothing but treat you like his own daughter for most of your life. It’s a good thing you came. It probably would have broken the old man’s heart if you hadn’t.

“It means a lot that you came, hija. I know it’s not easy for you to see him again,” he tells you, keeping his voice quiet enough that you’re the only one that hears him.

You just shake your head slightly. “You couldn’t keep me away if you tried, Pops. It’s good to see you,” you reply.

He chuckles and pinches your cheek gently before letting you go, and as he moves on to greet your mother, you go to take a seat at one of the many tables set up in the barn. There’s already a decent number of people, which makes it easier for you to remain undetected. It doesn’t take you long to spot Javier, though. He’s surrounded by a small group of people: his aunt and a couple of his cousins, all of them undoubtedly wondering about his adventures in Colombia. He’s too busy to try and steal you away anytime soon.

When your mother joins you again, the two of you make your way to the long table filled with various dinner options. Your stomach growls in anticipation. One of the best things about being adopted into the Peña family is the food. As you put your plate together, you chat with his uncle who moves down the other side of the table. Slowly, you find yourself relaxing and finding peace in being surrounded by so many wonderful people.

You take your seat again, and other members of the family start approaching you, all of them glad to see you. You laugh as Danny pulls you to your feet and brings you to the dance floor, but quickly lose yourself in all the fun. It’s the most fun you’ve had in a long time, and you certainly haven’t been this relaxed since Javier came back.

You’re so absorbed in dancing around and switching partners that you don’t notice that Javier has joined until he’s taken your hands in his and pulled you to him. You stop in your tracks then, freezing as you realize just how close the two of you are. You can feel his body heat. He’s just as warm as you remember. Suddenly you can’t breathe and you feel like the walls are closing in on you.

Javier releases his hold on you and you look quickly around you, glad that no one seems to have noticed the interaction. You walk away without a word, trying to make your way out of the barn. You need some fresh air and some distance from all of the people.

“...She’s the one Jav left on their wedding day. Poor thing,” you hear.

The words make you turn on your heels, and you find that there are more people looking between you and Javier than you had originally accounted for. Tears gather in your eyes and you make a swift exit from the barn. You hadn’t wanted to become the center of attention. In fact, it was the one thing you had prayed that you would be able to avoid tonight.

Outside, the air is much cooler. There’s a breeze blowing through the Texas air, and gradually you feel your lungs opening again. You start walking, with no true destination in mind. You can’t bring yourself to go back inside and face everyone again, to face Javier.

You find yourself in the middle of one of the pastures. All of the horses have been brought in for the night, leaving you out there on your own. You take in a deep breath, looking up at the endless sea of stars above you. The noise of the barn has faded. From this distance you can’t even see the lights from inside anymore. You let the atmosphere calm you again.

Javier watches you leave. He listens as the loud chatter begins to die down, replaced by the quiet musings of his family as they look back and forth between the two of you. He wants nothing more than to run after you, to escape the eyes that are trained on him, the voices that declare his sins for all to hear.

His head is hung as he makes his way to his father’s table, a sigh escaping his lips as he drops himself into a chair.

“Síguela,” his father commands. Follow her.

Javier looks his father in the eyes, sees their hardened gaze. He doesn’t have to be told twice. He’s lost you once. He can’t let it happen again.

You don’t even hear his footsteps in the grass.

“I need you to hear me out,” he says, the sudden voice startling you.

“Go back, Javier. Before you give them something else to whisper about,” you demand. You don’t want to hear what he has to say. You just want to be left alone. You’re ready to go back home, despite the night being so young.

You turn to face him, finding him standing with his hands on his hips, his chest heaving with a sigh. “Please. Just let me say this and then you can go about the rest of your life hating me. But you have to know that I never wanted to hurt you,” he says. His voice is getting louder with his mounting frustration. You feel your blood boiling in your veins, adrenaline sending your emotions to an unprecedented and volatile high.

“It doesn’t matter if you meant to hurt me or not! It happened!,” you yell back at him, finally losing your temper. You’re grateful for the few feet that separate the two of you. You’re not sure you could resist the urge to slap him across the face if you were close enough to do it.

“Listen, I–”

“No, Javier. You listen,” you seethe. “I loved you. I fucking loved you with every fiber of my being. I had my whole life with you planned. And then you left me at the fucking altar. Gone. Vanished. To godforsaken Colombia to fight off the drug lords. The only reason I knew what happened to you was because of your dad!”

“I wanted to tell y–”

“Shut your goddamn mouth, Peña. I’m not done. Not even close,” you tell him. You can hardly breathe now as you lay into him, letting him have every bit of the anger and the hurt that you have been bottling up for almost ten years. This is the release that you hadn’t even realized that you needed. It feels good. Freeing.

“And what happens then? You become a fucking celebrity. Everybody wants to know where Javier Peña has gone off to and what kind of heroics he’s been performing to save the world from the cocaine crisis. Me? I’m just the poor dear that got left behind. Oh, you know who she is right? You know she’s still never been married? It’s a shame, but did you know he’s off in Colombia now? I heard he’s become quite the ladies man.We’re all so proud of him.” You mock the women that talk about you like you’re not standing right next to them.

Javier closes the distance between you, taking you by the forearms and holding you close to him. And then his arms are wrapped around you and your face is buried in his chest. You can feel his heart pounding against your cheek. His hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, which is now tucked under his chin. There’s nothing that can stop the sobs from escaping you as your anger immediately melts down into anguish.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, hermosa. Please…,” he begs you.

“Don’t call me that,” you say, though you don’t have the strength left in you to give it any force.

“Leaving you...it’s the worst mistake I’ve ever made. But I couldn’t bring you to Colombia. And I couldn’t have you following me. It was easier to leave you than to run the risk of having to bury you. That doesn’t make what I did right. There’s nothing that I can do to make it right. You can hate me if that makes it better, pero te quiero, amor de mi vida.” Those last words are desperate and strained. He’s just a few words away from breaking down with you. He wants so badly for you to understand that he hates himself for what he’s done to you.

You pull back just enough to look at him. “What did you say?,” you ask breathlessly.

“Te quiero, amor de mi vida,” he rasps.

“No,” you cry in disbelief.

“Yes,” he insists, “Not a day has gone by that I didn’t wish I could change things.”

“Damn you, Javier…,” you whisper.

He cups your cheek in one hand. “You can go on hating me forever. That’s fine. As long as you know that I love you.”

You gaze up at him, taking in every detail of his face, all the new wrinkles and lines that weren’t there before. But he’s still just as beautiful as the last day you saw him so long ago. Colombia has hardened him, made him rough where he was once smooth. But he’s still the same man whose memory lives in the box on your bedroom floor. He’s still the man you loved when you were young. He’s still your Javier.

“I could never hate you, Javi. Not forever,” you murmur. You watch as his whole face softens. “Tú eres el amor de mi vida…”

And then his lips are on yours, one hand still on your cheek and the other pulling your waist closer. You close your eyes, both of your hands gripping his shoulders. You hold onto him for dear life as all of your pain and longing seeps into the kiss. Finally all the broken pieces of you are whole again, your soul reunited with its other half.

You’ve waited a long time for Javier Peña to come back home to you.

---

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