#ashburn ff

[cocktailsfairytales]

𝑷𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚 𝑳𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝑷𝒔𝒚𝒄𝒉𝒐 ( From the Ashes series #2 ) by @author.re.bond

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🩸𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐈 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐝 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒃𝒆 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆.

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🛑𝑆𝑖𝑔𝑛𝑢𝑝 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑡: https://bit.ly/3PTnB2g

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🖤𝑃𝑟𝑒𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠: https://bit.ly/FromtheAshes2

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❕ 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐑𝐁 ❕

Growing up in a big family means things slip through the cracks.

My parents have never made me feel unwanted or unloved, but we aren't always honest.

After all, they run the most notorious street crews in Ashburn Valley.

When their enemies took my brother's life, everything changed.

We all coped differently, and no one would understand my need for taunting death.

They can't find out I've been racing illegally on the streets instead of the track.

My mom and I are close, and she's always supported my decisions.

It was no surprise to anyone when I came out as gay, and she said she'd always known.

I guess she can't judge me since I have nine dads.

My best friend Luna Hendricks is the hottest girl I've ever laid eyes on.

Everyone says I'm breaking my own heart, but I can't seem to let her go.

She doesn't seem so straight when I finally get her under me and she begs for more.

No wonder her boyfriend hates me.

My name's Riley Donovan, and I'm in love with my best friend. Even I know good girls are bad girls that never got caught.

.

🖤Graphic by Vicious Desires Design

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🏁𝐴𝑑𝑑 𝑖𝑡 𝑜𝑛 𝐺𝑜𝑜𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑠: https://bit.ly/3Q0hhXs

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🛑𝐺𝑟𝑎𝑏 𝐵𝑜𝑜𝑘 1: https://bit.ly/FromtheAshes1

.

🖤Join @PeachyKeenAS 's Masterlist: https://bit.ly/PeachyKeenML

.

#REBond #AuthorREBond #PrettyLittlePsycho #FromTheAshes #ComingSoon #FF #DarkRomance #Romance #StreetRacing #Bestfriendstolovers #SpicyRomance #Steamyromance #PeachyKeenas

[sambethe]

Ashburn FF: Let’s Not Talk of...

Summary: There was supposed to be more time. 

Time for him to deal with his shit. Time to carve out a place for himself. Time for the two of them to rebuild.

Just simply time.

Words: 2600 | Rated: T | ao3

A/N: A set of missing scenes set in between events going on from Point of Light to Project Daedalus. There are mentions of the Voq surprise baby plot, so fair warning in case that’s an issue.

+++

Try to take her at her word.

It had been almost a year since he had last seen her. A long series of days and months since he had asked the impossible of her. Since she had laid out the truth of the path in front of him, and made it unequivocally clear that it was one he’d be alone on.

Not that Ash blamed her.

He would have hoped that a year had been long enough. That enough time had passed that those words, coming from her mouth, wouldn’t have the power to cut. But he should have known that he was nothing but a live wire when it came to Michael, and that he had no clue how shield himself from her effects.

Tonight, though, he could swear Michael felt something too.

There was a flash. A spark. The briefest of something that crossed her face as he watched her.

But maybe he was just fooling himself and it was nothing more than a figment. Something his mind conjured to haunt him as he crawled into bed, planting a seed of hope that Ash should know better than to foster.

She’s moved on, you fool. Let her go.

His mind was not something to be trusted on the best of a days.

She had smiled, though. That much he was sure he hadn’t made up. And made him laugh. When was the last time he had laughed? But there was also another expression there as well, in the moments before her smile, one he couldn’t quite decipher. That fact pained him, because once, not all that long ago, he knew how to read her so well.

Ash would like to blame the distance, or the holographic projection, but he knew that for the cop out it was.

He was the one that put the distance there.

He hadn’t trusted her when it counted, hadn’t taken her at her word that he could lean on her when he needed it most.

The distance hadn’t stopped her ability to spark a lightness in his chest, though, or the warmth that slowly spooled down his limbs, relaxing his shoulders as she dragged out their conversation.

She had dragged it out, hadn’t she? He hadn’t invented that, right?

Hope flared in his chest all over again at that, and Ash hated himself a little bit for it.

He shifted in his bed, kicking at the sheets that clung to his skin uncomfortably until they sat across his hips. His quarters here on Qo’nos were always overwarm, and the humidity like foggy stew that blanketed the air. Tonight, however, Ash didn’t think the humidity was to blame for his restlessness.

He had tried to give her an out, tried to cut the call short once his message was delivered.

Michael was the one who had...

He shook his head without letting himself finish that thought.

He was a fool.

A fool who should have just sent a subspace message. Talking to her directly was an indulgence he shouldn’t have allowed.

He was still unsure why she accepted it.

Even worse, he wondered how he would have felt if she hadn’t.

*

Ash had known what was waiting for him on that dias the moment Ujilli gestured him forward.

No matter that it was something he wanted to wish away and cling to simultaneously.

A baby. His baby.

The infant had Voq’s pale skin, and that, more than anything, flared a different sort of ache in his chest. Though a soothing sort of peace trailed behind it. A sense of rightness grounding him in a way that he hadn’t thought he was still capable of feeling .

Kids had always been a distant thought. Before. And he wasn’t sure he’d given them any in the days since he had been captured.

But the Ash who once was?

He had wanted them.

They had been one of those distant maybe, someday kind of wishes. In that sort of future that unfolds for normal people. It had been just him and his mom for so long. Then, later, just him.

He’d dreamt of it though -- of a large house, voices and noise echoing and rattling throughout it. Of holidays spent with full tables and more dishes than you could count. Of a daughter he could teach to fish and how to shoot. Of a son he might see off to the Academy one day.

And what had Voq -- son of none -- dreamt?

Memories flooded through him. Ones full of loneliness and longing. He could see a young boy walking the halls of an orphanage -- the wish to belong a constant thrum dominating his thoughts.

The irony of two lost boys coming together as they have was not lost on Ash for a moment.

And to have to let go this boy in his arms, it hurt more than he had thought possible. To leave this boy alone, with the same sets of questions both he and Voq carried. That was something that cut Ash to the quick.

He hadn’t thought there were further parts of his heart -- his soul -- that were left to be taken from him.  

As everything swirled through his head, his heart, it wasn’t his own mother or L’Rell that he ached to reach out to, to lean on.

It was Michael’s presence he wished for, her reassuring calm. Her poise and her quiet voice, even if he really didn’t need for her to say anything. He knew the choice that must be made, knew what needed to be done. But if anyone would understand what he was feeling -- would have a kind word that could serve as a balm -- it would be her.

And what was worse, he wanted to lean on her. Desperately. Despite everything that had transpired. Everything she had said to him. Everything he had done.

He hated himself for the fact of how much he still wanted.

He paced the length of his newly assigned quarters, quietly rocking the boy as he did, and was suddenly grateful that he had no assigned security codes. No means to reach out to Michael, or anyone really. Without that barrier, Ash was sure he would have caved.

She was an indulgence he couldn’t afford.

He needed to let her go. Allow her the space to move on. Even when he couldn’t.

*

Of-fucking-course.

He had wanted to laugh once Leland had left him alone in the gym. The padd containing details of his first off-ship assignment still sat where it had been dropped on his chest as he was laid back on one of the workout benches.

Subtlety was apparently not been high on Leland’s list of priorities.

When he finally got the courage to thumb through the details, the data dump of history and background materials scrolled past him almost entirely unread. His eyes couldn’t seem to focus on anything that wasn’t the name USS Discovery. Because he should have known, that the combination of his awful luck and the fact of who else in 31 would know that ship -- and her crew -- like he did would make his assignment there an irresistible choice.

Ash would have just preferred more time, and more distance, before he had to step foot on those halls. More time to fortify his memories. His emotions. Himself.

And maybe, just maybe, a small part of him wanted the chance to avoid all of it for just a while longer.

To a time when he was stronger. To when he had more time to plan. Maybe once he finally stopped feeling things he knew he didn’t have the luxury to feel any more.

But time, or a choice in the matter, hadn’t been things granted to him of late.

And now here, in Discovery’s mess hall, sitting across the table from Michael, her dark eyes coolly assessing, it all seemed so familiar and… not. A nervousness clawed up his throat, a confirmation that his instinct to stay away had been right. He needed more time.

It took more than he cared to admit to not reach out across the table and pull her hand into his. Not to squeeze it and draw strength from the deep well he knew she possessed. It would be unfair to ask that of her, he knew that. It was not her job to support him, to pull him through the morass of his own thoughts.

It’s a very interesting journey...

Part of him ached to tell her all of it. A greater part, though, along with his near overwhelming need for self-preservation, was soothed by his newfound ability to hide behind the cloak of the ‘classified’ stamp. That one word proved to be the barrier he needed, the one he couldn’t seem to erect for himself when it came to her.

He watched her watch him. There was a wariness about her that he hadn’t seen since his last days aboard Discovery. There was a new carefulness about the set to her shoulders, something more practiced in her stance. It was as if she were bracing for yet another blow, and it left him to wonder again if he invented that flash of a smile that had played at her lips during their call.

If he was inventing the hint of warmth in her eyes even now as she sat across from him.

It couldn’t really be there. She had moved on.

Maybe if he repeated that enough he’d teach himself not to wish for things that were not there. She had made it clear that avenue was closed to him. It wouldn’t do him good to hope.

Hope would do nothing more than leave him feeling strung out. Brittle. Like he might break.

He shook his head as he trailed behind her to the turbolift.

He needed more time.

*

“Do you ever sleep?”

Ash didn’t jump at the sound of Tilly’s voice behind him, but it was a near thing.

He’d meant to go on a run. Had thought the exercise might allow him to pass out when he finally returned to his quarters. Had hoped the familiar low light of the passageways passing beside him as he focused on nothing more than the steady in-out rhythm of his own breathing might provide their own brand of comfort.

Instead all they managed to do was serve as a reminder of how much had changed.

Not turning from his spot in front of the small observation window at a nondescript junction in Discovery’s vast network of halls, he replied, “Sometimes.”

“0130 seems as good a time as any. To try at least.”

Ash shrugged as Tilly came to stand beside him. She wasn’t wrong, but every time he closed his eyes everything he tried to bury would surface and play out in vivid detail behind his closed eyes.

Tilly nudged him with her shoulder. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but whatever you are getting, you need more.”

“I’ll take that under advisement.” He leaned into her as he bit back a smile. This one thing, at least, hadn’t changed. This easy thing that flowed between them ever since that first afternoon Tilly dropped herself down at his table was still there. He’d be forever grateful for it -- for her. “Why are you awake?”

Tilly glanced over and offered him a sheepish grin. “Lost track of time.”

He smiled. “Uh huh. Maybe you should take your own advice, then.”

She turned her attention back out the window. “Maybe.”

They remained like that for a long while. Just the two of them, surrounded by nothing more than the quiet hum of the ship’s engines and Tilly’s even breathing. Though she was so still as they stood there that it nagged at him, even as he had no idea how to ask what might be keeping her awake too.

He wondered just how much he had missed in his time away.

“She’s not the Michael she was a year ago.”

The words came tumbling out of Tilly in a rush. Their suddenness and lack of preamble made Ash go stiff, torn between wanting to cut off her off and the desire to hear everything she’s willing to tell him.

“I thought you should know that.”

Ash blinked, trying to focus on the starfield laid out in front of them. “Why?”

“Because, you should know. That whatever was done, whatever was said between you last year, she’s different. She’s more open. More honest in a way -- not that she was never not honest -- but it’s a different sort now. She’s a different type of honest, about herself and about her friends. So don’t continue to shut her out.”

“I’m not shutting any --”

The look Tilly shot him was quelling enough to swallow his obvious lie.

“She’s doesn’t --” Ash struggled to continue, not sure how to put the fact that it was better this way. That they were better this way. All of them. That he needed to stand on his own before he started to rely on her, on any of them, again. But Tilly didn’t seem interested in letting him continue.

“Come with me.”

He turned, tilting his head in a silent question. She looked him up and down, taking in his running shoes and sweats. “You’re obviously not running tonight. So let’s go get a drink.”

“I don’t think that’s…” He trailed off, not sure where exactly he wanted to go with that thought.

“What? Does 31 not allow you to fraternize with the rest of Starfleet? Did I miss a memo?”

“No.” He fell in line beside her as she began to move down the hallway.

Tilly linked her arm in his. “Good. Because it’s been a long day of staring at screen after screen of information from the sphere and my brain can use a rest. Plus I miss kicking your ass a poker. Up for a hand or two?”

He smiled and tugged her arm a little closer, letting that squeeze speak the words he can’t say.

“Lead the way.”

*

There was supposed to be more time.

Time for him to deal with his shit. Time to carve out a place for himself. Time for the two of them to rebuild.

Just simply time.

But now there were three hours and a countdown that had them sending Michael to her death. Three hours where didn’t know what he should say, or if she even wanted him to say anything. Three hours until he’d have to trust this crew with almost everything left in this world that means anything to him.

Because Michael couldn’t be yet another thing he’d be left to count in the stack of things he’d lost.

When the indicator at his door rang he knew it had to be her. She had always been the braver of the two of them -- plowing head first into bridging the divide he couldn’t quite figure out how to cross.

He reminded himself, again, that he just needed to trust in her. In this crew. Despite everything in his experience that told him trust wasn’t something he should place anyone, he knew that was something he could give her.

So with her here now, standing in his arms, he opted to not think.

There are a million reasons why this plan was a terrible one. There are a million more why the two of them did not work.

So he would take the quiet moment given to just sway with her. And be here in this moment, because she was Michael Burnham, and he could be the strength she needed.

[cocktailsfairytales]

𝑷𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚 𝑳𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝑷𝒔𝒚𝒄𝒉𝒐 ( From the Ashes series #2 ) by @author.re.bond

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🩸𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞 𝐈'𝐝 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒊𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈'𝐝 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞.

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🛑𝑆𝑖𝑔𝑛𝑢𝑝 𝐻𝑒𝑟𝑒: https://bit.ly/3PTnB2g

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🖤𝑃𝑟𝑒𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠: https://bit.ly/FromtheAshes2

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❕ 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐑𝐁 ❕

Growing up in a big family means things slip through the cracks.

My parents have never made me feel unwanted or unloved, but we aren't always honest.

After all, they run the most notorious street crews in Ashburn Valley.

When their enemies took my brother's life, everything changed.

We all coped differently, and no one would understand my need for taunting death.

They can't find out I've been racing illegally on the streets instead of the track.

My mom and I are close, and she's always supported my decisions.

It was no surprise to anyone when I came out as gay, and she said she'd always known.

I guess she can't judge me since I have nine dads.

My best friend Luna Hendricks is the hottest girl I've ever laid eyes on.

Everyone says I'm breaking my own heart, but I can't seem to let her go.

She doesn't seem so straight when I finally get her under me and she begs for more.

No wonder her boyfriend hates me.

My name's Riley Donovan, and I'm in love with my best friend. Even I know good girls are bad girls that never got caught.

.

🖤Graphic by Vicious Desires Design

.

🏁𝐴𝑑𝑑 𝑖𝑡 𝑜𝑛 𝐺𝑜𝑜𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑠: https://bit.ly/3Q0hhXs

.

🛑𝐺𝑟𝑎𝑏 𝐵𝑜𝑜𝑘 1: https://bit.ly/FromtheAshes1

.

🖤Join @PeachyKeenAS 's Masterlist: https://bit.ly/PeachyKeenML

.

#REBond #AuthorREBond #PrettyLittlePsycho #FromTheAshes #ComingSoon #FF #DarkRomance #Romance #StreetRacing #Bestfriendstolovers #SpicyRomance #Steamyromance #PeachyKeenas

[cocktailsfairytales]

𝑷𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚 𝑳𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝑷𝒔𝒚𝒄𝒉𝒐 ( From the Ashes series #2 ) by @author.re.bond

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🩸𝐖𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝑱𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒉𝒖𝒓𝒕 𝒖𝒔, 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒘𝒆?

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🛑𝑆𝑖𝑔𝑛𝑢𝑝 𝐻𝑒𝑟𝑒: https://bit.ly/3PTnB2g

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🖤𝑃𝑟𝑒𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠: https://bit.ly/FromtheAshes2

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❕ 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐑𝐁 ❕

Growing up in a big family means things slip through the cracks.

My parents have never made me feel unwanted or unloved, but we aren't always honest.

After all, they run the most notorious street crews in Ashburn Valley.

When their enemies took my brother's life, everything changed.

We all coped differently, and no one would understand my need for taunting death.

They can't find out I've been racing illegally on the streets instead of the track.

My mom and I are close, and she's always supported my decisions.

It was no surprise to anyone when I came out as gay, and she said she'd always known.

I guess she can't judge me since I have nine dads.

My best friend Luna Hendricks is the hottest girl I've ever laid eyes on.

Everyone says I'm breaking my own heart, but I can't seem to let her go.

She doesn't seem so straight when I finally get her under me and she begs for more.

No wonder her boyfriend hates me.

My name's Riley Donovan, and I'm in love with my best friend. Even I know good girls are bad girls that never got caught.

.

🖤Graphic by Vicious Desires Design

.

🩸Photographer: Michelle Lancaster

.

🏁𝐴𝑑𝑑 𝑖𝑡 𝑜𝑛 𝐺𝑜𝑜𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑠: https://bit.ly/3Q0hhXs

.

🛑𝐺𝑟𝑎𝑏 𝐵𝑜𝑜𝑘 1: https://bit.ly/FromtheAshes1

.

🖤Join @PeachyKeenAS 's Masterlist: https://bit.ly/PeachyKeenML

.

#REBond #AuthorREBond #PrettyLittlePsycho #FromTheAshes #ComingSoon #FF #DarkRomance #Romance #StreetRacing #Bestfriendstolovers #SpicyRomance #Steamyromance #PeachyKeenas

[cocktailsfairytales]

𝑷𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚 𝑳𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝑷𝒔𝒚𝒄𝒉𝒐 ( From the Ashes series #2 ) by @author.re.bond

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🩸𝑭𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒄𝒉.

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🛑𝑆𝑖𝑔𝑛𝑢𝑝 𝐻𝑒𝑟𝑒: https://bit.ly/3PTnB2g

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🖤𝑃𝑟𝑒𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠: https://bit.ly/FromtheAshes2

.

❕ 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐑𝐁 ❕

Growing up in a big family means things slip through the cracks.

My parents have never made me feel unwanted or unloved, but we aren't always honest.

After all, they run the most notorious street crews in Ashburn Valley.

When their enemies took my brother's life, everything changed.

We all coped differently, and no one would understand my need for taunting death.

They can't find out I've been racing illegally on the streets instead of the track.

My mom and I are close, and she's always supported my decisions.

It was no surprise to anyone when I came out as gay, and she said she'd always known.

I guess she can't judge me since I have nine dads.

My best friend Luna Hendricks is the hottest girl I've ever laid eyes on.

Everyone says I'm breaking my own heart, but I can't seem to let her go.

She doesn't seem so straight when I finally get her under me and she begs for more.

No wonder her boyfriend hates me.

My name's Riley Donovan, and I'm in love with my best friend. Even I know good girls are bad girls that never got caught.

.

🖤Graphic by Vicious Desires Design

.

🩸Photographer: Michelle Lancaster

.

🏁𝐴𝑑𝑑 𝑖𝑡 𝑜𝑛 𝐺𝑜𝑜𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑠: https://bit.ly/3Q0hhXs

.

🛑𝐺𝑟𝑎𝑏 𝐵𝑜𝑜𝑘 1: https://bit.ly/FromtheAshes1

.

🖤Join @PeachyKeenAS 's Masterlist: https://bit.ly/PeachyKeenML

.

#REBond #AuthorREBond #PrettyLittlePsycho #FromTheAshes #ComingSoon #FF #DarkRomance #Romance #StreetRacing #Bestfriendstolovers #SpicyRomance #Steamyromance #PeachyKeenas

[sambethe]

Ashburn FF: Reciprocity

Summary: 

He is different. He’s Agent Tyler. Solitary. Alone. Apart. This time it's Michael's turn to forge ahead.

Words: 1150 | Rated: G | ao3

A/N: Sorry? Sort of. Look, it's not my fault canon is a giant pile of angst. Or that @cuddlybitch plants more angst in my head with this as the end result. Go yell at her too. ;) All of this is set somewhere in between the events going on in Saints of Imperfection and The Sound of Thunder.

+++

He is different.

Not that it isn’t him. Ash.

He is a man Michael would recognize anywhere. His loping gait, the slope of his shoulders, the curve of his mouth. They are as familiar to her as her own reflection. He still drinks his tea with entirely too much milk. It makes her smile every time she sees his hand curl around a cup.

It makes her wonder if Klingons drink tea. And if not, what he drank all those months he spent on Qo’noS.

She wonders if she’ll ever get the chance to ask.

She can see him in his eyes as well, even when she’s pretty sure he’d prefer she didn’t. He’s there in his occasional quip to the crew when at his station on the bridge. In the quizzical pull of his brow as he stares at something scrolling along screen in front of him.

But still, the man who walks Discovery’s corridors now is not the man she last watched as he walked away from her in a Klingon back alley.

Many of the changes are subtle - his hair, his beard, the tired lines that creep around the corners of his eyes. Michael wonders if he sleeps even less than he did before.

But others are decidedly less so.

There’s a brittleness, and a hesitancy, to his words that she doesn’t remember. This version of Ash is someone who is quiet, closed off, and angry. The calm, affable man she so admired -- envied -- is nowhere to be found. The old Ash lies buried deep somewhere.

Or so she hopes.

She thinks she sometimes sees glimmers. Flashes of humor, grace, and the man who connected to those around him -- to her -- almost as easily as breathing. In those moments his shoulders lose their stiffness and his face goes softer. Each time she feels like she almost reaches him, but then it’s like he catches himself and withdraws.

It’s almost like she imagines each brief encounter. Imagines him.

The Ash here now is one who doesn’t kick out the chair across from him in greeting when she approaches his table in the mess hall.

She hadn’t known the absence of so small a gesture could cut so deeply.

**

Ash continues to avoid her. Though from what she can tell he avoids Tilly, Bryce, and the rest of the crew as well.

A cold comfort, really, if there ever was one.

When she does see him outside of their joint shifts, he is always alone. He’ll be coming from the gym, or on a run, or eating a meal. At the last, he always has a padd out in front of him, the low light of the screen highlighting the drawn quality to his face. The only company she ever sees him with is the shadow of his ever-present security detail trailing nearby.

He’s Agent Tyler. Solitary. Alone. Apart.

She can think of a dozen more words, but they all mean the same thing and they all feel so wrong. Because whatever -- whoever -- Ash Tyler is, she knows he’s not that.

Michael knows she’s had a hand in this, this closed off version of him. But she knows that the distance she caused between them was a necessary one. She had believed what she told him about the hard work ahead of him.

She also knows now that part of her assessment was wrong.

It was, and is, grueling and punishing. It continues to be relentless. But reclaiming her life, who she was and who she now is, was anything but a solitary endeavor. She shudders to think of where she’d be without Tilly. Saru. Stamets. Even Lorca in his own twisted way.

This crew, and this ship, has meant all the difference.

**

Michael keeps trying.

Ash may not push out a chair when he sees her, but that doesn’t mean she can’t sit anyway. He may not welcome her, exactly, when she does, but he doesn’t walk away either.

She’s decided that it’s enough for now.

He’s said he’s searching for a place where he makes sense. He’s told her that he’s found it in Section 31, but Michael remains unconvinced.

She knows where he belongs. It may not necessarily be with her, but it’s definitely here on Discovery. With his friends. With this crew.

It just might take some time for her to make him see it. And that’s ok. This time around she knows it is her turn to be kind, and patient. It’s her turn to let him know she’s the one not going anywhere.

**

“I’m told they’re traditional.”

She’s standing at the door to Ash’s quarters, holding up the two bags in her hand -- one filled with popcorn and the other with chocolate covered almonds. From the corner of her eye she can see Nhan down the hall, but she chooses to keep her focus on the man standing in front of her. His forehead wrinkles as he blinks and takes her in.

He’s wearing standard issue sweatpants and a hoodie. His feet are bare, his toes curling against the dark carpet beneath them. It’s a sight so familiar that it makes her want to cry.

Michael smiles instead.

“What are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t sleep. I thought you might be awake too. Can I come in?” She hands him the bag with the popcorn, hoping he’ll see it for the gesture it is.

Before, well, everything, Ash had discovered she’d only seen a handful of old Earth movies while growing up. He had started constructing lists of what they were going to have to watch to catch her up.

You’re human, Michael. It’s practically mandatory that I help you with this. You’ll enjoy it. I promise.

Michael wasn’t really sure she’d understood the point, but she couldn’t deny his enthusiasm. And the way he had winked at her when it said it hadn’t hurt his case either.

But in the end there hadn’t been time enough.

Now, though, she’s determined to correct that.

“You want to watch a movie? At oh two hundred hours?”

“Yes,” she answers honestly.

She doesn’t look away as he peers down at her, assessing. As he watches her she can’t help but remember her words to him just a couple weeks ago.

You’ve got me. Right here.

She’s not sure if he remembers them, or even heard her when she said them. She’s not even sure he can read the thoughts she’s sure are clear on her face right now. But when he finally steps away from the doorway and gestures her inside, she lets out a breath.

This is definitely enough. A connection. A tether, no matter how tenuous, to the place she wants to be.

To the person she wants to be.

And with enough time, she knows Ash’ll get there too.

[sambethe]

Ashburn FF: A Slip Out of Time

Summary: Step on the boat. Get the data chip from him. Leave one in return. Go.

Simple enough, right?

Right.

If only things were simple. If only their futures could take a moment and not look so different.

Words: 4400 | Rated: M | ao3

A/N: Nothing like starting a fic in February 2017 and then letting it languish for a year before finishing it. Oops. But nothing like the threat of a new season of canon to compel you to finish it. Hope you enjoy!

 +++

“You sure you don’t want me to come with you? I’d be happy to…”

Tilly trailed off and the two of them stood at the end of the dock. Michael felt rooted to the spot, resisting the urge to curl her fingers around the cuffs of her tunic, to slip them beneath to run along the length of rope tied around her left wrist.

She could do this. A simple step forward on the wood planking. Mere meters to the 18th slip, as instructed.

Why was she still standing here?

It was a simple mission. A brief intelligence swap. If she could just compel her feet to move forward, she could nearly be done and back at their lodging, curled up in a chair with a book and a cup of tea. This was certainly nowhere near a harrowing mission. At least nothing that deserved this level of trepidation.

Her classmates back on Vulcan would sneer if they could see her in this moment.  

Michael tried to remind herself she no longer cared.

While she stared off at the water, Tilly continued to fidget at her side. Michael could feel each of her movements, every shift of her weight to her right foot, then left foot, before she started the pattern anew. Tilly clasped her hands behind her back and then let them fall to her side, only to then turn to adjust her ponytail for the third time since they had arrived at the dock. Each slide of the fabric of Tilly’s clothing sounded deafening over the quiet lap of the water beneath their feet.

The harbor that stretched before them seemed impossibly still by comparison. The glint of the water, tinted almost violet in the bright afternoon sun, was the only outward sign of the currents running deep below. It was a perfect, tranquil spot. She could understand why, of all the options in this sector, Ash picked this spot.

In any other time, and any other place.

If they were any other two people...

Michael reached out and clasped her hand over Tilly’s, stilling her movements. She was grateful for her offer, more than she had means to express. The two of them had spent the morning wandering market stalls, playing tourist as a means to disguise their intended purpose -- the swap of data discs and allowing Stamets and his team time to locate another cache of samples. As much as she might want to accept, Michael knew she could delay no further or send Tilly in her stead.

She paused one more beat before stating the obvious. “I’ve delayed long enough.”

Tilly shook her head. “I don’t mind. Really. Besides, I don’t think I’ve ever been on a sailboat. It would be fun to --”

“I’ll be fine.” Michael squeezed Tilly’s hand, hoping the gesture would be reassurance enough, afraid that anything more might betray the tremor in her hand. “I can handle this. Besides, Lt. Commander Stamets is expecting you.”

“Right,” Tilly said with an emphatic nod of her chin. “Straight intel swap, nothing more.” She nodded again to herself and then looked at Michael. “You promise to be back at the hotel before sunset?”

Michael gave her a smile she didn’t quite feel. “Of course. I should be here no more than an hour. There will be plenty of daylight remaining for me to return, and I will meet you and the rest of the team at the rendezvous tomorrow at 16:00.”

She squeezed Tilly’s hand one more time before letting go and taking a step forward. It wasn’t until she was about a third of the way down the dock that she heard Tilly call out behind her.

“Tell Ash I miss his face in real time.”

Michael didn’t turn, but nodded just the same. Whether it was for her own benefit or Tilly’s, she wasn’t quite sure.

*

He looked good.

She almost hated that that was her first thought upon catching sight of him on the deck. He’d grown a beard and his hair was long. It appeared that it had been months since he last cut it. Most of it was gathered back in a ridiculous knot, though a few pieces had escaped in the front and curled around his temples. It should not be something Michael found endearing -- attractive -- and yet.

Amanda would laugh if she were here to witness this moment.

He was still lanky, his frame deceptively slight in the t-shirt and loose pants he wore. Her attention snagged on the flex of his biceps and the curl of his fingers as he coiled a length of rope. His skin looked soft, tanner than she’d have expected after eight months of living on Qo'noS. Michael also sort of hated, and not, that she noticed that as well. More importantly, though, the drawn quality she remembered to his face when she had last seen him had faded. She was glad for that, even as she still hesitated to call out to him.

And maybe she hesitated because of it.

Despite the hair, he looked so much like the man she had come to know before they stepped on board the mirror Shenzhou. Had she expected something different? Seeing him here, she suspected that she had hoped something about him would be tangibly different.

All of this would be easier if he were.

I see you, Ash.

She meant those words when she had uttered them. She still did.

But it did not mean that the truth of them, or her jumbled emotions surrounding them, had gotten any easier to process in the intervening months.

And being here now, with him standing only meters away? It simultaneously felt like years had passed and no time at all. Time had stretched and contracted, and stretched again, only to land her here in this moment -- paralyzed in way that was becoming uncomfortably familiar to her.

Before she could make a decision, time contracted again and Ash turned and offered her a small, half-smile as he leaned back on the bow’s railing. “You going to stand there all afternoon, Commander?”

Michael wanted to bristle, or maybe to wipe the smug look from his face, but then he bit down on his lower lip as he swept his gaze from her face down to her feet. By the time he focused once again on her face she’d almost forgotten all the reasons why she should be angry with him.

Why she should not trust him.

And yet, it was him. Ash.

“So you heard?”

“Kind of hard to miss the news. Even on the edge of space.”

She nodded out to the water. “I’d hardly call this the edge of the galaxy.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Perhaps I do.” She shrugged. “Permission to come aboard, Captain?”

Ash’s smile turned sly and it warmed her chest. Michael wanted to scold herself, chant reminders of all the ways this feeling was wrong. There were still so many things to say, so much left unresolved.

“Just through tonight,” he said, interrupting her rambling thoughts. He ran his hand along the smooth brass railing before taking a step toward her. “Tomorrow she’ll be returned to her rightful captain.”

Michael took a breath. Step on the boat. Get the data chip from him. Leave one in return. Go. Simple enough, right?

Right.

Ash offered her a hand as she stepped over the lip at the top of the plank and climbed over the edge. He held her hand until she steadied, his thumb running along the side of her own all the while. There should not be so much comfort in so small a gesture, but in these last couple of years her life seemed to be consist of nothing more than a series of events that should not be.

“Come sit.” He gestured to the bow. “As the afternoon light fades, the water turns a deeper shade of purple. You should stay and watch.”

Not waiting to see if she followed, he made his way back toward the bow, holding his hand out behind him as he did. Whether he didn’t notice her hesitation, or chose to ignore it, Michael wasn’t entirely sure. Deciding she didn’t care, she took his proffered hand and followed him to the front of the ship.

They sat in silence for a while, him sitting cross-legged beside her as she swung her feet over the side. It was nice. Peaceful. Any of the turmoil she had felt faded with the each sway of ship beneath her.

That and the fact Ash hadn’t let go of her hand.

Michael used her free hand to rustle in the pocket where she’d stored the chip Admiral Cornwell had provided. “This is for you.” She held it out to him and he pocketed it with a nod.

With that done, she should ask about the one he promised in return. Instead, she studied the side of his face. His beard was full. In the abstract, it wasn’t something she’d have thought she’d like, but was surprised at how tempting she found it. She itched to feel the short hair beneath her fingertips. And though she knew she shouldn’t, she followed the impulse, reaching out and tracing the backs of her knuckles along his jaw.

It tickled, and scratched. She stretched and curled her fingers, dragging her nails as she explored. Ash closed his eyes as she did, tilting his head to press her hand closer to him. It lit something low and warm in her belly.

“Michael,” he whispered.

She smiled and continued her exploration, brushing up his jaw and down along his ear. Threading her fingers into his hair, she spread them just enough to loosen the tie that held the longer strands back. His hair was soft as it hit the back of her hand and she pushed her fingers deeper, enjoying the play of it against her skin. She wondered if it smelled like him, or if it was more like whatever shampoo he used now.

She leaned in, brushing her lips at the corner of his mouth before trailing her nose along his jaw. She took a breath when she reached his temple. The scent that greeted her was some combination of him, soap, sweat, and the salt that permeated the air around them. It made her heart trip and beat out an even thrum all at once.

The hand holding hers tightened and his other cupped the back of her head, leaning her into him as he rubbed his cheek against hers. “Michael,” he repeated and drew his mouth down the column of her throat. She tipped her head back, granting him further access as he left a series of lingering kisses that sent lightening along every nerve in her arms and up her spine.

When he finally pulled back, she felt dismayed and relieved in equal terms. He hadn’t even kissed her properly and she was wrecked. Ruined. She should leave now. Stick to the plan. Run.

She should kiss him for real.

Finally glancing over to him, she found his eyes watching her. He wore a shell-shocked expression that she knew mirrored her own. He bit at his lip and looked like he was searching for words to make sense of whatever lay between them.

There was so much to say.

There would never be enough time.

Not wanting him to get those words out, to talk them out of what they were about to do, she leaned in and swept her lips across his. It was a barely there wisp of a thing, but Ash didn’t hesitate to kiss her back. His mouth followed hers, drawing her slowly to him. She went, bringing her legs up beneath her, and cupped his chin. Their kiss deepened, her tongue sliding against his as she slipped into his lap, shifting her hands from his face to wind her arms around his neck.

Ash’s hands settled at her waist, his thumbs sweeping and circling along the fabric of her tunic.  The slow movements left her wishing she’d worn something less sensible, wishing to feel his hands on her through something thinner. Wishing to feel him touch her. Lost in the feel of him, the taste him, as well as memories of him moving against her, she hadn’t noticed her own hands slide beneath is t-shirt until she was raking her nails up and down his back.

He broke their kiss and groaned, before pulling her up to stand with him. “You should follow me.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before he turned. She followed in the wake  of his long strides, watching him jump down the narrow hatch. She climbed down the ladder face forward. He watched her descend, waiting until her foot hit the last step before crowding in and pressing her against the rails. Michael smiled as he kissed her again, losing herself in the familiar taste of him. He dragged his mouth from hers, turning his attention to her neck as his hands moved to grasp hers, holding them back against the rails as he rocked into her.

She let her head fall back, resting it against the ladder as he worked at the base of her throat. He sighed when the stiff fabric of her collar wouldn’t give to allow him to press further.

“Too many clothes,” he murmured.

Michael laughed and tugged her arms, silently asking him to release her wrists. He did and stepped back, watching her as she bent her leg and used her foot to push herself from the ladder. She reveled in the way his breath seemed to hitch, his whole chest shuddering as she crossed her arms in front of herself and tugged at the hem of her tunic. She pulled it over her head and dropped it to the floor, keeping her eyes locked to his as she did.

Left her in her bra and a pair of leggings, she warmed when he finally broke contact and raked his eyes over her. His eyes seemed to trail down her stomach and to her legs. She toed off her boots as his attention moved back up and then down her arms. She knew the moment he caught sight of her now bared wrist and the rope that wrapped around it. He stilled and seemed to hold his breath.

Michael had slipped open the bowline knot months ago. Tilly had helped her fashion a small, gold bracing to hold the ends together. To anyone else it would seem inconsequential, nothing more than an odd choice in bracelet.

To Ash though, he would know what it was. What it meant.

His eyes still caught on her wrist, Ash reached for her. She let him take her hand, standing stock still as he wrapped his fingers around it, slowly dragging them down until they hit the rope. He slid his thumb along the rough twine and slipped his middle finger between it and the skin of the underside of her wrist. She couldn’t tear her eyes from where his finger played along her skin. Time seemed to stop and everything around them faded. Everything except for the skittering heat of the pad of his finger on her skin, each brush echoing and thrumming through her in staccato.

His free hand caught her chin and tipped her head back, forcing her to look up at him. “You kept it.”

She nodded.

Something flared in his eyes, the gold flecks in his deep brown eyes catching on the low light of the cabin. Before she could put words to what it was, he dropped his hands to her waist and spun them around, walking her backwards a few steps. Her calves hit a low couch and she tumbled back into it. He fell with her, the two of them laughing as he pushed himself up and stared down at her. She touched his cheek, her thumb brushing at the way his mouth crinkled with his laughter. He was much too tall for the cramped space to be comfortable, but he didn’t seem to mind.

Michael smiled at him and he smiled back before lowering his mouth to her belly, kissing along the waistband of her leggings. She tensed when he bit at that particular stretch of skin at the top of her hip bone, trying to hold her breath before she dissolved into another fit of laughter.

“I love that.” He grinned up at her as he traced along the goosebumps he had raised on her skin. “The fact that you’re ticklish.”

She tried to school her face into her best impression of an imperious Vulcan and raised one eyebrow at him. “Why?”

“Because you’re still willing to show me that. And because it’s something no one else knows about you.” He shook his head and returned his attention to her leggings, prodding her to lift her hips as he slid his hands beneath the tight fabric. He stripped her of both them and her underwear as he went, sitting back on his knees in front of her once he dropped them to his side.

She bit back a sigh when his dragged his hands up her bare legs, spreading her open to him as he went. She had the errant thought that maybe she should even the score some, reach out and strip him of his shirt. She wanted the chance to run her fingers through the hair on his chest, to watch the flex of his muscle with each of his movements, but all thought was lost with the first touch of his tongue to her.

He took his time, long, savoring licks and teasing flicks of his tongue along every inch of her sensitive skin. Part of her wished she could say that she had forgotten how good he was at this, at pulling each moan from her lips, at driving a barrage of sensation along her limbs. But it would be a lie. Even at the worst between them, her brain had refused to let go of those memories.

Not sure what that might say about her, she shut her eyes and pushed away any thoughts besides those of the here and now. She tangled her hands in his over-long hair, tugging him close and begging him to finish it. Instead, he pulled away gently. She bit back a cry -- frustrated by both his having stopped and the way his breath played across her skin.

“Did you want something?”

She opened an eye and found him grinning at her, his tongue playing at the edge of his lip. Michael warred with the dual want to kick him and pull him back toward where she wanted him. Instead, she murmured his name and felt a tiny flicker of victory when his eyes went heavy-lidded and he gave a quiet groan.

If she thought him a man with purpose minutes ago, it was nothing on how he set himself to work now. She could barely focus as his mouth found her, his fingers joining in the onslaught. He worked them together in quiet insistence, drawing her body back to the edge with an ease she wouldn’t have thought possible. She reached behind herself, gripping at the top of the couch as her release finally washed over her, her arm tensing in an effort to keep herself from slipping off the narrow cushion.

When she finally collected herself and her breath, it was to find Ash resting his head on her thigh, one hand drawing slow, soothing circles on her other. He was still fully dressed, but his hair was a rumpled riot of tangles and curls. His mouth morphed into a grin as he caught her staring.

“Come here,” she whispered. She felt a flare of pride as his face went slack. She sat up and removed her bra before reaching for him, slipping her hands beneath his shirt and tugging it over his head. She made quick work of his belt and opened his pants, enjoying his deep draw of breath when her hand slid over his erection.  

Using his distraction, she nudged him around, pushing until he was seated on the couch. Sliding into his lap, she captured his mouth in a searing kiss. When she finally pulled back, she reached down to grasp him, adjusting her hips to line him at her entrance. He gasped as she began to sink down on him, taking him slowly, waiting as her body to adjusted and stretched around him each torturous inch.

Finally, finally, he was fully seated within her and she looked down at him. His head was tipped back, resting on the edge of the couch behind him, his eyes steady on her face. He offered her a small smile and she arched against him, raising her hips just a fraction before settling back down again. Ash hummed and wrapped his hands around her hips, guiding her through another slow, shallow thrust.

She moved her hands to his shoulders, extending and stretching her fingers to allow just the palms of her hands to play over the soft skin there before taking her time to trail down his arms, following the languid pace he set with her. Ash bent forward and she leaned in, resting her forehead against his. She closed her eyes and matched his breathing, and when he finally covered her mouth with his, everything within her felt as though it were on fire, her pleasure gathering and settling at the base of her spine. She picked up their pace, thrusting harder, chasing the feeling that began to spread throughout her.

She felt his stuttering breath when he finally came and with another roll of her hips, pressing her clit against his pelvic bone, she followed him.

The cabin felt quiet around them as they both caught their breath. It was a peaceful sort of stillness, devoid of any of the awkwardness she had anticipated. Michael chose to take a moment and not question it, falling against Ash and taking comfort in the feel of his sweat-slicked skin against her own.

*

Michael squinted and took a quick glance around the room. The light filtering through the portholes running the length of the hull had taken on a deeper, more golden quality. She could feel Ash behind her, his chest rising and falling steadily against her back. She wondered how long they had lain there. Her arm ached from where she’d fallen asleep on it, but she felt more rested than she probably had right to given the narrow couch they were curled on.

Ash’s hand rested against her stomach. He was awake, his fingers curling and uncurling, the tips of them dragging in a slow, steady wave against her skin. It left Michael feeling light and comforted, and more than a little fuzzy around the edges. It was nice. Normal. She had missed this. Missed them.

And here she had once thought she would be the only reason they couldn’t have this.

She let out a deep breath. She was so tired of regret. Of fear.

Ash moved, adjusting to allow Michael the space to turn over. Once she settled back in, he brought his hand to her face, tracing along her jaw before cupping her cheek.

“Hey,” he whispered, leaning in, his nose a hair’s breadth her own.

Her eyes caught on his mouth. It was so familiar. She had loved those lips so much -- his smiles, the teasing smirks they could form, the way his teeth would snag on them when he looked at her just so. And yet her brain still stuttered and faltered on images of those same lips forming Klingon so fluently. How the voice she thought she knew so well deepened and turned gravely in a way she hadn’t been prepared for.

She reached up, pressing her thumb to his bottom lip, swiping along the length of it. Her thumbnail traced the edge. Michael braved the chance to glance up at him, her breath catching when her eyes locked on his.

Ash.

And that was about the sum of it. Whatever he had been through, and whatever he still needed to do, the man she had known was still clearly there in the depths of those clear brown eyes. As much as a part of her wanted the fact that he was as much Klingon as he was human to matter, to be a reason to shut him off from her, it didn’t and she couldn’t. This man here was still Ash.

She dropped her hand from his mouth to the top of his chest, tangling her fingers in the smattering of chest hair there.

“An isik for your thoughts?”

She smiled as his words brought her out of her thoughts and shook her head. He gave her a small one of his own in return. He looked almost shy. It brought her back to their first kiss. The two of them on the small couch in his quarters.

The more things change…

“Would you believe me if I told you they were all too scattered to make any sense?”

“I might.” His hand clasped around the one at his chest and he threaded his fingers with hers. “When are you expected back?”

“Rendezvous tomorrow afternoon.”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Stay the night.”

“I shouldn’t.”

He folded their joint fingers over, holding their hands tightly to him. “Stay. We should talk some more. I should talk some more.”

“Ash.”

“Michael, I was wrong about so much. I’d like the chance to tell you about some of it.” He let go and circled his hand around her wrist. Slowly, one of his fingers looped around the skin there, then drew the rope she wore between his thumb and forefinger. “I owe you that much.”

She nodded. She knew she shouldn’t. She should go, should stick to her plan. But a not insignificant, and selfish, part of her wanted to stay. Nothing they could say to one another would change the facts in front of them -- that she would return to Discovery tomorrow afternoon, that he was needed back on Qo'noS. That their futures still looked different, if not in the way she had anticipated.

“I’ll stay,” she whispered, snaking her hand around the back of his neck and pulling him toward her. “I’ll stay.”

+++

Tagging: @cuddlybitch, @maya-zapata (not quite what you had mentioned, but lives along the same themes I think), and @ashandalder (since I vaguely comment hijacked your own post to chat about this)

[sambethe]

Ashburn FF: A Quiet Moment's Hesitation

A/N: Instead of jumping down a fic reading rabbit hole, I wrote words. For the first time in months. It feels good. Edited but not beta’d.

Just a baby bit of Ash quietly pining. Haven’t decided if this sits right before or right after ‘Magic to Make the Sanest Man Go Mad.’ I’m still trying to figure out the timeline in my head.  

Words: ~700 | Rated: PG | ao3

+++

Michael’s foot sits on the couch beside him, just out of reach of where Ash’s hand sits on his thigh. She’s removed her socks and his fingers itch to stretch and erase the gap between them, to explore the soft skin at the top of her foot and along her ankle.

But he hesitates, and drums his fingers uselessly on the side of his padd.

The Ash he thought he knew wouldn’t have hesitated. He would have brushed the back of his fingers along her toes, circled them around her ankle and pulled her foot into his lap. That Ash would have held it there as he continued to read, allowed himself to become distracted by the drag of his skin along hers and the soft hitches of her breath as he worked his way up the back of her calf.

Ash in the here and now wants to lean over and kiss her. He images she tastes like the tea that sits abandoned on the floor below them, but he wants to know what lay beneath the tang of black leaves and spice. He thinks she wants to know the same about him.

But yet, he hesitates.

He wonders whether it is her who makes him hesitate, or if the Ash who came back with Lorca is fundamentally different from the Ash he was. He never was one to be afraid, not about this at least. Anger creeps through his chest at the thought. But Ash also knows Michael isn’t one to be pushed, that what impulsiveness he’s seen from her is measured and thought out. So maybe it isn’t his fear that’s driving him.

Maybe.

It still chafes, though, that he can’t seem to push himself to do what he knows he would have only months before.

Tapping his thumb hard on the front of his padd, he leans his head back and takes a deep breath. From the corner of his eye, he can see Michael’s brow twitch but her attention doesn’t waver from her own screen.

Ash closes his eyes before he does something stupid, like reach out and wrap his hands along her waist and tug her to him. It doesn’t help though. Because here in the darkness behind his eyelids, all he can see are images of her straddling his lap, her strong hands gripped at his shoulders, her dark eyes studying him, cataloguing each of his reactions to her touch.

He needs to stop.

He needs to find some other way to channel this energy. Turning his head, he opens his eyes and watches her. She’s wearing the standard issue tank and sweats, one foot curled beneath her as the other stretches out towards him - the one that started this whole train of thought. Her eyes continue to scan over her screen, and she bits her lip in concentration as she absorbs whatever it is telling her.

It’s the hottest thing he’s seen in a while, and the old Ash would have laughed at him for getting hard over something so simple and routine.

“I thought you were reading.”

He answers the wry pull the words bring to her lips with a slow smile of his own. “Could have said the same about you.”

“It’s hard to focus when you are being stared at.”

Ash shrugs and moves to stand. “Feel like a run?”

He asks more for want to distract himself than for any real desire to move from this spot before he’s called for his next shift. His mind seems bent on shattering the comfort of the routine they’ve established and he needs something to cling to before he does something stupid like push her back into the cushions.

“Sure.” She lowers her feet to the ground and slips on her shoes. Reaching for her balled up socks, she asks, “Meet you in 10 outside my quarters?”

He nods in answer as she slips out the door, his eyes focused on the way her sweats cling and fall around her hips and down her legs before the doors close quietly behind her.

“Get it together, Tyler,” he whispers. “Now is not the time.”

[sambethe]

“I’ll let you get back to your snake pit.”

Oh god. In there is an amazing Ashburn au fic idea where they have this enemies who bang dynamic.

I really need someone to write that for me.

[sambethe]

Ashburn (or Michael Burnham cnetric???) - au where battle of the binary stars didn't happen/had a different result and Michael gets the Captaincy of Discovery as recommended by Georgiou. Please? XD

Oh, there are so many ways this can go. Just the teasing out the Ash from the Ash/Voq alone in the scenario is enough fodder for a thousand AUs, let alone the ways Michael would land in that spot.

Anyway, here’s ~275 words of angsty weirdness in an AU where Georgiou is still dead but somehow mutiny hadn’t been the path that brought them there.

(Come prompt me!)

++++

It was one night. One night that should have come and gone. She hadn’t even been on leave, just a few hours off duty at the insistence of a cranky Saru.

One night to quiet the insistent voices in her head. A few hours with a person who probably should have remained nameless to her, and yet she was a woman who now stared at a transmission from that same man. The computer blinking and flashing with a waiting message, his name scrolling past with each reminder.

It was the third in as many weeks.

She shouldn’t have answered the last two.

Maybe the blame laid squarely with the captain’s chair, its chrome and soft leather feeling foreign beneath her fingertips. It did not matter that she sat in that seat hundreds of times before. None of them truly prepared her for the weight of it without Georgiou fall back on.

No matter how much she had wanted this, worked for this, it had never occurred to her that Philippa would have to die at the hand of a Klingon for her to earn it.

That had not been the plan.

It had also not been the plan to have been swayed by a man with a dimpled grin whose eyes crinkled at the corners when he was particularly pleased by something she had said. By a man who seemed to be the only one with whom she could voice the fears that swirled in her head.

Her mother would laugh if she knew.

There was a war waging. The commander of the Yeager should not be on the list of things occupying her attention.

And yet.  

[sambethe]

Ashburn FF: Escapism

A/N: Angsty smut, ahoy, because that's where we are. Set just after the end of Despite Yourself.

Summary: None of this was how he'd wanted to find himself in Michael's bed.

Words: 1500 | Rated: M | ao3

+++

Not like this.

Ash stretched, his feet tangling in the top sheet that bunched at the end of the bed. Michael lay beside him, her back to him, one shoulder rising and falling with each of her breaths. It should be soothing, the steady rhythm. Instead, he found himself struggling against the urge to bolt, to sink down along the wall, to hide somewhere far from this cold room.

He had spent weeks fantasizing about this, about Michael in bed with him, her skin warm and smooth against his own. Even in those first few days aboard Discovery, when she was more likely to bestow him with a roll of her eye than her smile. He had thought of the weight of her breast in his palm, the feel of her thigh hitched over his hip, the choked sound she might make as he pressed inside. He had dreamt of her above him, the wry twist of her lips as she shifted, the way each slow movement allowed him to let go.

He had catalogued each smile he had managed to coax from her. Sitting across the table from her in the mess, he would reach for stories to make her laugh. He had spent hours learning how her mouth curved into the apple of her cheek when she smiled wide, the way her eyes crinkled when she was particularly pleased. He would keep talking, telling her nonsense tales from his days at the Academy just to see what new expression could be found in those smiles.

And now he knew exactly how it felt when pressed between his shoulder blades, against his abs, and on the inner curve of his thigh. The ghost of the sensation brought a smile to his own lips.

Ash couldn’t remember the last time a girl had him this far gone. He would never say that he was smooth, but Michael left him unsteady in ways he hadn’t known were possible. The last time he had felt this unsure was maybe when he was sixteen, too tall by half and easily entranced with the way the ends of Alice Evans’ bright blonde ponytail curled along the top of his desk. Calculus had nearly been a lost cause.

(He refused to think of L’Rell, alone in a cell on Discovery, and the flashes of want he couldn’t understand, couldn’t explain. He worked to bury them deep.)

This was not how he had wanted things with Michael to start, not here on a ship that was too dark, too lonely. Surrounded by faces they knew, but everything about them just this side of twisted and wrong. It didn’t stop the temptation though, the want to curl around her and start again. He followed it, turning and trailing his hand along her hip, his fingers sliding along the length of bone, dipping to the warmth between her thighs.

She had looked so haunted when she’d come back to her quarters earlier, so alone, so lost.

So small.

The Michael Burnham he knew should never be described as small, and finding her so had left him simultaneously glad he had let himself in and wishing he had let her be. She had been a mirror of his own desperation, of wanting to feel anything but the fear and panic coursing through his veins.

And he had been so grateful for her. Was still grateful for her, these hours later.

He needed her to understand. Needed her to know. He wanted her to understand, but he couldn’t form the words then and wasn’t sure he was any closer to being able to now. The feel of Culber’s skin beneath his fingers still remained, the clear snap of his neck continued to echo through him.

Ash had needed to drown it all out, and Michael had seemed to need the same.

Talking would have been the better plan, but the idea of probing at her wounds made him fear that it would lay his own bare in ways he wasn’t yet prepared for. So he had pressed forward, taking her proffered hand. Allowed himself to fall back when she crawled into his lap, bringing her with him to seek the relief she had offered.

Ash buried his nose against the side of Michael’s neck, breathing in deep. Her scent grounded him, reminding him of home in ways it ought not have.

It should have been in his quarters on the Discovery, their first time. Not here on this ship, in this universe where nothing felt real and everything made his skin itch. He had imagined teasing her at the end of one of their runs, goading her and earning a quirk of her eyebrow before he crowded her, his hands on her hips as he stepped her back into his quarters and into his bed. He had liked to imagine them spending a night off in his quarters, the two of them spread out on the floor watching old movies. He wanted to watch her watch them before pulling her close and using his hands and his lips to distract her from the screen.

He had so many plans that didn’t involve these stiff sheets and too cold quarters.

They had missed their first kiss, and now there was this.

Where exactly had it all gone wrong? Would she ever find it in herself to forgive him?

Michael stirred as his fingers slipped between her folds. Her soft, wet skin slipping against his touch, warm and inviting, had him biting back a groan. He thought about shifting, moving down her body and allowing his mouth to follow the path his hand had mapped out, but she reached back, sliding her hand through his hair and held him to her. Her blunt nails scraped along his scalp, sending sparks along his spine as she cupped his head.

“Ash,” she whispered, her back arching to his chest.

He hummed and dragged his teeth along her shoulder, biting down as he drew one finger up to tease at her clit. Turning to long, slow strokes, Ash focused on each tiny hiccup in her breathing, each sigh that fell from her lips to learn what it was Michael wanted from him.

When she seemed on the brink, he inched his hand back, gliding it along the top of her thigh to her hip. Bringing his mouth to her ear, he asked, “Bring your leg back.” His fingers gripped at her as she complied, holding her in place until she felt steady. Letting go, he wrapped his hand around himself, giving a languid stroke or two before moving between her legs. He pressed himself along her, pushing up towards her clit before dragging himself back down and repeating the motion again.  

She groaned as he started a third pass. “You’re teasing,” she bit out, tugging at his hair before dropping her hand to his neck.

Ash smiled and nipped at her ear, pulling another moan from her. The sound wrapped low in his belly, urging him to take what she offered. “Is that any way to talk to an officer?” he asked, shifting back and lining himself up at her entrance. He pushed just enough, letting the head of his cock settle within her. He wanted to groan at the warm feel of her surrounding him, wanted to thrust, to take, but he also wanted to stay right here in this moment. To allow the teasing possibility drive them both mad.

To exist outside of everything for just another moment.

But then she moved her hips, as much as she could given the angle, encouraging him to push further. “Unless I am mistaken, I -”

He cut off her retort and thrust himself fully inside her. And before she could recover her breath, he pulled out and pressed back again. “What was that?

Her quiet moan was her only response.

He wanted to relish in their teasing, enjoy the fact that it might almost qualify as normal. But everything was decidedly not normal, and he wasn’t sure how much time they would have. Dropping his hand from her hip to her belly, he curved his fingers to graze along her clit. He drew small circles in time with his shallow thrusts, working to carry her away with him. When he finally felt her begin to contract around him, he let himself go, his movements becoming unsteady and uneven as he felt his release lick along his spine. The sensation tightened and pulled, leaving him short of breath and overwhelmed by the time he opened his eyes and withdrew from her.

Michael turned towards him, giving him a small smile as she slipped her leg between his. “Hey.”

He smiled in response and wrapped an arm around her waist as she reached out and twisted her fingers in the hair falling into his face.

“We should move.”

“We should,” he agreed, dropping his forehead to hers

“Maybe in a minute?”

Ash nodded, afraid saying anything further might break the spell. It was only another moment, right?

They could have this moment of normal, right?