#ezra from prospect smut

[burntheedges]

Summer Stuff-My-Inbox Fic Rec List (Part 2)

I can't believe it's already September? What the hell, honestly. Thank you all for sending me your fics again!

Remember to check out Part 1, too.

The list has 57 more Pedro-character fics posted since June 1, organized by character and then alphabetically by author. Mind all tags and warnings! I've noted word count (we've got a range!), whether it's part of a series, and pairings. Let's get reading and reblogging!

Characters in this rec list: Dave York, Dieter Bravo, Din Djarin, Ezra (Prospect), Frankie Morales, Javier Gutierrez, Javier Peña, Joel Miller, Marcus Acacius, Marcus Moreno, Marcus Pike, Pero Tovar, Tim Rockford

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Dave York

melt by @sizzlingcloudmentality | 960 words | Dave x f!reader summary: wine drunk and with fresh croissants from the bakery you're having French breakfast and sex with Dave. | Daphne mentioned being proud of this one particulary because of the smut!! 😏

Dieter Bravo

Eros & Psyche by @schnarfer | ~16k, complete | Dieter x f!reader summary: Dieter is a modern day Greek God Eros. We’re going full existential dread rom-com, actually. | I can't wait to read this!

Golden Girl by @whocaresstillthelouvre | 2.9k | Dieter x f!reader summary: What happens when you discover your husband has been cheating on you? You call his best friend to help comfort you.

Starlet by whocaresstillthelouvre | 3.7k | Dieter x f!reader summary: Your husband has a big movie premiere, sure he looks great, but his co-star looks even better.

Din Djarin

Fifteen Weeks by whocaresstillthelouvre | 5k | Din x f!reader summary: It's been fifteen weeks since Din Djarin first entered your life, now you can't imagine it without him. You take a leap of faith in your relationship and visit him at his farm. | this is part 2! Don't miss part 1!

Oath Broken and Soul Bound by @whxtedreams | 1.8k, wip | Din x OFC Witch hunter!Din x OFC!Witch, from Flora: It's a Witch AU, fantasy and forbidden love. It's very new, only one chapter out but I have very big plans. I have pretty much the entire fic mapped out. It also has Ezra, Frankie and Joel as characters. You can learn more about their characters here in the character study i did for them. This is my passion project, I have so much love for them and I can’t wait to share my story in more detail!

Tales from the Dark Garden by @hapan-in-exile | 9k | Din x f!reader summary: The reader is a courtesan at the Dark Garden, Coruscant’s most prestigious pleasure house, where you encounter the Mandalorian.

Touchstone by @sawymredfox | 2.6k | Din x f!reader summary: Things are not always what they seem. They have a meaning. They have a reason behind them, private and cherished.

Ezra (Prospect)

There are Other Fish in the Sea by @beefrobeefcal | 4 parts | Frankie x f!reader, Ezra x f!reader summary: an alternate ending (and continuation) of another of Beefro's fics, where Frankie messes up and Ezra comes along.

Joel x Ezra

who knows where the time goes by @sixhours | 11k | Joel x Ezra (Prospect) summary: It's New Year's 2027 and the dads are going through it. An i know you by heart one-shot.

Frankie Morales

Like the Rain by @jennaispunk | 2.9k | Frankie x f!reader summary: Frankie has something to say….will you listen? | Jenna said this one is her first Frankie fic!! and a challenge because it has more spice, which is fun!

There are Other Fish in the Sea by @beefrobeefcal | 4 parts | Frankie x f!reader, Ezra x f!reader summary: an alternate ending (and continuation) of another of Beefro's fics, where Frankie messes up and Ezra comes along.

Tide by whocaresstillthelouvre | 1.2k | Frankie x f!reader summary: Frankie Morales is capable of almost anything… except not cumming in his jeans when he thinks about you, the pretty clerk at the grocery store he always buys his giant jugs of laundry detergent at.

Javier Gutierrez

KEPT by @beefrobeefcal | 5.3k | Javi x f!reader summary: You might just have bitten off more than you can chew by possibly becoming Javi G's sugar baby.

Rhapsody in Blue by @maggiemayhemnj | 5.5k | Javi x f!reader summary: Javi G takes you to the Oscars. Takes you to the Vanity Fair party. Takes you back to the Chateau Marmont. Then just takes you. | Maggie said this one took her out of her comfort zone, and she ahd fun delving into more spice!

Javier Peña

An End to Drought by @almostfoxglove | 5.4k | Javi x f!reader summary: The future of your family's homestead hangs in the balance as Javier Peña comes home in the middle of a drought.

Dispose of Me by whocaresstillthelouvre | 1.8k | Javi x f!reader summary: Javier Peña needs you… and you're moving away in two weeks.

Dusk by @the-orange-tabby-cat | 8.7k | Javi x f!reader summary: Javier sees you again years after the end of your love affair. Torn between the memories of what happened then and what is now, you both face the weight of your actions from Bogotá to Madrid.

Hold my hand by @milla-frenchy | 4.1k | Javi x f!reader summary: a stranger saves your life. Or your and Javi’s love story.

I'll Carry You by almostfoxglove | 2 of 3 parts, 13.6k | Javi x f!reader summary: You reunite with your childhood best friend when he arrives home from Colombia. Javier's sudden return to your life exhumes buried heartbreak, but he longs to set things right.

Scathed by @dancingtotuyo | 41k, wip | Javi x OFC summary: Javier and Emily experienced the drug war on different fronts in very different ways. Maybe, they’re what the other needs to heal.

Joel Miller

Joel & Ellie, no pairing

happy birthday, baby girl by sixhours | wip | Joel and Ellie summary: Ellie has never had a birthday. Joel can fix that.

Joel x Ezra

who knows where the time goes by sixhours | 11k | Joel x Ezra (Prospect) summary: It's New Year's 2027 and the dads are going through it. An i know you by heart one-shot.

x reader or x OFC

A summer with the Millers by @milla-frenchy | 4.2k, wip | Joel x f!reader x Tommy summary: you come back to your father's house for summer vacation and want to get closer to your crush and dad's best friend, Tommy Miller. His brother Joel is gonna help you to reach your goal.

Always in my Heart by @mermaidgirl30 | 1.2k | Joel x f!reader

summary: Losing a pet is never easy, but you’re not alone because Joel is right there with you, keeping you afloat.

BDSMaid by @mountainsandmayhem | wip | Joel x f!reader summary: After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. It’s only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. That’s what you’re promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.

Cover Me Up by almostfoxglove | 97.7k, finished | Joel x f!reader summary: After you spare the lives of two kids who break into your isolated cabin in the woods, they lead you back to their settlement. You intend to get in, trade for valuable supplies, and get out, but end up staying. Four years later, you're a solitary but respected pillar of Jackson's close-knit community when Joel Miller shows up, kid in tow. You think nothing of him or the kid. You like your quiet life. Too bad it won't stay quiet for long. Or: Joel and Ellie make you human again. | Freya's first series!

Dark Shades of Innocence Lost by mermaidgirl30 | finished | Joel x f!reader summary: After your friends drag you out to Club Inferno on a Friday night, you meet an unexpected man with dark brown eyes. That man is Joel Miller, who turns out to be the owner of the club. The menace that will turn your life upside down. After not dating for a couple of years, Joel finds out and strikes up a proposition for you. Keep coming back and he’ll make sure you experience pleasure like you’ve never felt before.

Fragile State by @galway-girlatwork | 2.5k | Joel x OFC Tara summary: The aftermath of a traumatic car accident leaves a family struggling with fear and uncertainty. The emotional toll weighing them all down as they try to find some normalcy which they all know is impossible until he wakes up. Vulnerability and desperate needs for the man who is the center of their lives to remember who they are and the life he had with them. | the author mentioned this way of writing a story was new, which is very fun!

Halcyon by @justagalwhowrites | ch 16, 110k so far | Joel x f!reader summary: When your life falls apart, you find yourself back in your hometown of Austin, Texas for the first time in more than a decade. Eager to make your own way after a rough divorce, you reconnect with your high school best friend Joel Miller - a man you never thought would be in your life again. Things have changed since your falling out just before you left for college but friendship with Joel comes easy. His life isn't in any better shape than your own and the two of you make a vow to get your acts together - personal, professional and romantic - in the span of a year. But will your burgeoning connection make it so you can figure everything out or will your history together get in the way?

Her by milla-frenchy | 3.2k | Joel x f!reader summary: after Joel confides one of his fantasies to you one day, you make it come true. | her first kinda sub!Joel with Joel realizing a fantasy. 😏

In Need of a Top Up by @tateypots | 1.5k | Joel x f!reader summary: Joel likes calling you his wife and you like hearing it.

In pain and heartache. In comfort and love. by whxtedreams | 2.5k | Joel x f!reader summary: They were so desperate to hold each other after tasting life without one another.

It Tastes of Magic by sawymredfox | 12k | Joel x f!reader summary: Your grandmother always told you the same thing. Have always salt in handy to spill over your left shoulder. Knock on wood to keep away the bad luck. Don't forget that mint likes to have her space to grow. Actions always speak louder than words. And love as much as you can, because even when it hurts, it makes you stronger. Will she still be right?

Lock the Gate by almostfoxglove | 23k+, wip | Joel x f!reader summary: You're less than enthusiastic when your uncle's partner Frank invites two strangers from the Boston QZ to your compound to trade. Joel Miller proves just as callous as you and brutishly stubborn—but after a cutting first impression, a bloody inconvenience, and a long walk through infested woods, you're not sure if the fire you carry for him is actually hate.

Push it by milla-frenchy | 3.4k | Joel x f!reader summary: you have a secret “relationship” with Joel, your dad's best friend. You know you can't have more, but you can’t resist the idea to provoke him a little.

See How She Rides by @arcanefox207 | 4.4k | Joel x f!reader summary: BoatMechanic!Joel Miller is just doing his job when you show up unannounced to soak up some summer sun. | Ally said she had a lot of fun writing this one and I think we're going to have a lot of fun reading it!!

spin me around by @ace-turned-confused | 2.4k | Joel x f!reader summary: you find a vintage record store full of rare finds, the man behind the counter the rarest of them all. | for the Secret Springs challenge!

Stranger in a Bar by justagalwhowrites | 17.3k | part 2, finished | Joel x f!reader summary: You meet a stranger in a bar, one who is fun and sexy and makes you wonder if the single life is all it's cracked up to be. But there's one big problem: you probably shouldn't be fucking your dad's best friend.

Teach Me How to Play Coach Miller by whocaresstillthelouvre | 3.2k | Joel x f!reader summary: You're home alone, relishing a lazy day when your hot neighbor knocks on your door. Seems his TV is out and he really wants to watch the Rangers game. You know nothing about baseball… maybe he can teach you a thing or two?

Tear You Apart by mermaidgirl30 | wip | Joel x f!reader summary: Joel comes for you late at night. He always does. Always stalks, chases, and prowls after you like a starving wolf. And when he catches you, he devours you, feeds on you like the animal he is. Will you run and hide or will you give into the temptation that calls you into the forest?

Tenacity by whocaresstillthelouvre | 2.3k | Joel x f!reader summary: Joel Miller will never allow himself to take what he wants and you know that. How can a broken shower make him realize it's too late and he's already fallen for you? (Or Joel fucks you on his beat up couch in the QZ.)

The Fallen Warrior by @bluestar22x | 6.7k, wip | Joel x f!reader summary: Joel Miller, once the great archangel named Jaoel, fell from grace many centuries ago. After his brethren take everything from him, he immerses himself in human culture. Careful not to get too close to anyone new, everything changes when Joel finds a nephal (nephilim plural) living on the streets in Austin - the first since his fall. A trusted co-worker (reader) ends up adopting her. But just as the street kid, Ellie Williams, is settling into her new home Heaven’s angels come to town searching for her. They have a plan to use her blood in their battle against Hell, then dispose of her after. Joel can’t allow that. He won’t.

The green flannel shirt by milla-frenchy | 817 words | Joel x f!reader summary: Joel comes back home from work and finds you asleep wearing his shirt.

The Savage and the Sanctuary by justagalwhowrites | 8.3k, wip | Joel x f!reader summary: After the death of his daughter, Joel Miller fell apart. But when searching for answers at the bottom of a bottle and within his own rage doesn't fix it, he resigns himself to working for his brother in private security. It's a job that starts him down the path to stability and a semblance of a life, even if it's not one he particularly wants. At least it does until you show up. The biggest movie star in the world with your newly adopted niece in tow, you throw everything about Joel's life into flux. Is he capable of letting himself feel something again while protecting the only things left in the world that matter?

untitled by @idioticcatss | ~1.5k | Joel x reader sophie mentioned being proud of getting out of a writing slump with this fluffy, smutty fic! some tags: love marks, age gap, pet names, smut

Wings of the Dawn by the-orange-tabby-cat | 49k, wip | Joel x f!reader summary: You are Jackson’s librarian, a doll with good heart, that has your life changed when a handsome man and his kid decides to start again in your small town. Having a hard time ignoring Joel’s dark brown eyes, you found yourself wishing to have him closer as you both navigate through love triangles, teenage drama, city gossip and ghosts from both your pasts.

Woman by dancingtotuyo | 74.6k, finished! | Joel x f!reader summary: Joel Miller returns to Jackson bringing back memories and feelings from 20 years ago, but you refuse fall into the universe’s trap again. Your table is at capacity. Adding another chair will only kill you when they get taken away. | also Em just starting posting a no-outbreak AU of this fic!!

Yearling by justagalwhowrites | 306k, finished! | Joel x f!reader summary: After years of surviving in the wilds of Wyoming after the cordyceps outbreak, you find yourself in Jackson. It's a town filled with friendly faces and the kind of world you hardly remember, let alone can connect with or understand. But one man - Joel Miller, another loner, like you - makes you think that trying to find your place in society again might be worth it.

Yearling No-Outbreak AU by justagalwhowrites | 4.1k, wip | Joel x f!reader summary: When Ellie sees you riding at a rodeo, she knows you have to teach her. A no-outbreak AU of Yearling, where you and Joel find each other in every timeline. Can be read independently as a no-outbreak AU fic.

Marcus Acacius

Legionary by whocaresstillthelouvre | 3.4k | Marcus x Lucius x f!reader summary: Marcus returns to his hometown while traveling with his young soldier who's eager to learn from him. Good thing he knows your domus is always open to him.

mould me for ruin by ace-turned-confused | 4.6k | Marcus x f!reader summary: after years of watching general acacius, you long to wield a sword of your own — an opportunity arises for your dreams to come true, in more ways than one.

proud to be yours by ace-turned-confused | 2.7k | Marcus x f!reader summary: it's the first time you've seen acacius since he took your virginity, and he has plans for a different kind of training.

Marcus Moreno

(Some) Bodies by galway-girlatwork | 3.1k | Marcus x OFC Priestly summary: In the shadows of the ancient city, a dark romance blossoms between a healer and a sinner. It is a connection of light and dark, life and death. Can he accept her past? Can she believe there is redemption for what she’s done? Can carefully guarded secrets stay that way?

Marcus Pike

Code name: Hephaestus by @604to647 | 3.2k | Marcus x f!reader summary: Marcus requests a change to his FBI Agent code name. | Emily wrote this for Kel's Pedro Pantheon challenge and really challenged herself!! I'm excited to read. 🧡

next year by me! | 18.3k | Marcus x gn!reader summary: You expected your vacation to go like it always did -- a week of reading, relaxing, and so much alone time you'd be almost happy to see your coworkers when you got back. You'd spend time on the beach and walk around town and generally do whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted, just like you did every year. But when you locked eyes from across the sand with the handsome man renting the house next door, something told you this year would be different.

Pero Tovar

Maple by @sawymredfox | 2k | Pero x f!reader summary: A fox, a rifle, and two strangers in a forest. What could go wrong?

Tim Rockford

The detective by @milla-frenchy | 2.6k | Tim x f!reader summary: being a suspect in a theft case, you get interrogated by a handsome and dominant personal investigator.

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happy reading and reblogging! 🧡

[yopossum]

NEVER LET ME GO

Main Masterlist - Ao3

Summary: Loving, reverent domestic smut with sweet, submissive Ezra. A oneshot.

Rating: E

Pairing: Ezra (Prospect) x Reader

•••••••••• detailed warnings below the cut!! ••••••••••

Warnings: SMUT; no plot that’s it just porn but with FEELINGS; sub!Ezra; established relationship; super duper in love; domestic fluff; comfort; gratuitous pet names; praise kink; body worship; body hair; grinding; breast and nipple play; teasing/edging if you squint; light bondage; riding; PIV; no condom (there’s come y’all); religious language and imagery as literary device; Ezra the human thesaurus; prose gettin purple; making grown men whine and cry; reader is not gendered, has breasts and a vulva/vagina, is described as having puffed nipples and dimpled thighs, can straddle Ezra, but no coloring, size, appearance, age, or ability is otherwise noted; Ezra is an amputee and healed and we love it (no gore or trauma or background re: his arm); but I did write this because I was watching Prospect without actually watching and was inspired by *~*those sounds*~* out of context tho; Beatrice is not reader’s name, just a nerdy Dante reference; I stole this title from Florence Welch; old person on tumblr; is this spacing wack?; not a beta in sight; 18+ only no minors

Listen: Florence + The Machine’s “Never Let Me Go”

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••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Panting, Ezra blinked hard, stinging brow sweat running out his deep, hooded eyes and into the creases at their corners.

“My treasure,” he rasped, “please.” He clenched his teeth and swallowed thickly, Adam’s apple sliding up and down the length of his taut, tanned neck. He lay splayed on his back on the mattress while you straddled his narrow waist, his wrist lightly restrained with a strip of fabric knotted to the head of the bed. His eyes remained closed tight, delicate black lashes fanned over high, flushed cheekbones.

“Patience, darling boy. Be good for me.” You poked punctuation with the firm point of your tongue deep into the dip at the base of his throat, tasting the shallow pool of salted desperation that collected there as Ezra writhed underneath you. He was so rarely speechless, but at the mercy of your ministrations, the typical thesaurus of his mind was muted by melodic, crackling whimpers.

You flattened your warm wet tongue to the golden throb of Ezra’s neck, laved it from the right slice of his collarbone up along his jugular to the silky soft patch of skin behind his ear, swirling gently around the faded inked green flower there before sucking his lobe into your hot mouth and biting gently. Ezra keened, his hips bucking involuntarily as his spine curled in on itself.

Sitting back and upright astride his firm body, you ground down subtle and slow against his straining length. “I thought you were going to behave, beautiful,” you smirked down at him. A shattered wail tumbled from his plush parted lips and landed heavy in your cunt, the thrum radiating out from your core like ripples in a pond. You rolled your hips languidly again, tipping your pelvis forward and dragging through the thatch of coarse dark curls at his root. The delicious friction made your clit pulse greedily and you tilted your chin back and breathed a sigh like heady birdsong.

Ezra’s wavering tolerance cracked with a cry. He yanked at the smooth silk tie that looped his wrist, loosed it enough to slip from, allowing him to wrap his strong arm around your waist and yank you forward, your slick sex sliding a sloppy kiss against the soft swell of his lower belly. Your breasts fell pendent over his heaving chest, and Ezra’s eyes on them were a bottomless sea, fathomless agate brown and shimmering like moonlight with unshed tears. He looked up reverently, eyebrows furrowed, rosebud mouth falling open pleadingly.

“My divinity, my light, my Beatrice…” he croaked in a ragged whisper, his voice rough around the purple prose. Ezra’s rhythmic breaths were a fervent prayer as he supplicated to the heaven of your chest. “Relieve me of my agony, this exquisite anguish, I beg of you.”

You leaned forward further, pressing your lips to his crown like a blessing, pulling back only slightly to brush a wet white-blonde curl from his clammy skin before returning your forehead to his and closing your eyes. Ezra fought to stay still, but his cock throbbed furiously where it was squeezed between your bodies. Against his will, a silky drop of precome leaked from the fat tip of him, finding home in the slit of his belly button, and the whole of his strong, solid body quivered with need.

You looked down again, and oh. Ezra’s pupils were blown wide, his gaze impossibly dark and rich, dripping with the rawest, rarest awe. His pink tongue darted out and he gulped. “Please.”

You nodded, and before you could find the words to grant him verbal permission, Ezra lurched forward and took one puffed nipple into the soft heat of his hungry mouth. He teased it between his teeth, scraping gently, before swirling his tongue around the peak and suckling. Your breath hitched and Ezra moaned around you, sucking once more before releasing you.

“I do swear,” and he planted a kiss on your breastbone, interrupting himself. “There is,” he murmured, nosing a second kiss into the heavy underside of one breast, “no known embrocation…” He repeated the action on the other breast. “No salve,” as he pressed his teeth to the upper swell of the left, “nor balm...” A testing bite on the right made you suck in sharply. “That can soothe the weariness in my soul,” he ruminated. He traced a wide circle with the tip of his nose around your dark areola before opening his mouth over it, his tongue cradling the heft of you, and breathed his words into your skin. “None that can compare to the solace I find when I sink into your perfect bosom.” He closed his lips around your nipple and sucked again, eyes fluttering in sated delight, luxuriating in the feel of your swollen bud on his tongue. Your cunt clenched, petal-soft folds hugging along the underside of his shaft, and you hissed in tandem at the sensation.

“Now, Ezra,” you tutted, chastising reluctantly. Taking his face between your hands, you pulled him off your breast with a pop, watching his expression transform to a needy pout as you encouraged his face up to meet yours. “I didn’t say I was finished with you yet, my star. Don’t be hasty.” Your palms held firm along his jaw, fisting into the ebony curls at the nape of his neck, while your thumbs rubbed through his scratchy stubble, and he simpered apologetically.

Your playfully admonishing look softened, and you smiled down at him. “There he is. You’re so good, dove,” you hummed, pressing your lips tenderly to the heart-shaped bare patch near the corner of his mouth. Ezra closed his eyes, preening. You peppered his perfect face with small attentions as you praised him. “So sweet for me.” A buss to his boyish dimple. “So brave,” to the thin white scar on his cheekbone. “So clever and charming,” to the laugh lines feathering around his eyes. “So gentle and kind,” to the twin creases between his eyebrows. “And so, so lovely,” to the strong bridge of his classical nose. “My angel,” to the cherubic cleft of his plump lower lip. “My Ezra.” You slotted your mouth with his and kissed him slowly, savoring his delicate sigh before knotting your fingers in his tousled waves and bringing him ever closer.

Ezra’s hand moved from its place around your waist to your head, his broad palm cradling the side of your face while he ran a wide thumb along your cheekbone as he deepened the kiss, licking indulgently into you. The pads of his fingers rubbed rough circles on your neck, twisting your hair into rings around his thick knuckles.

Open mouths slid against each other, growing heated and harder, spit-slick and lewd, lips swelled with bruising force of each kiss and bite. Ezra shifted his weight to sit more upright, scooting back slightly and straightening his spine against the headboard, sliding his painfully hard cock back down your slit and nudging at your dripping entrance, forcing a low moan from the depths of your throat. “Rhapsody,” he murmured, breathless, and he crashed another desperate kiss to your face.

“You’ve done so well, precious one,” you cooed into him, unraveling his hand from your hair and placing it at the flare of your waist. “So good for me.” You gripped Ezra’s shoulders for balance and recentered yourself on his lap, kneeling, caging him in between the dimpled plush of your thighs and rocking your dripping center firmly into the cradle of his hips. His abdominals seized and he gritted his teeth, nostrils flaring as he tried to calm himself for you. Letting your hand slide lovingly down his right arm, you trailed a finger over the blunt end of his residual limb, delicately tracing along the lines of the scars there before lifting his arm alongside your face and nuzzling into him affectionately.

“You deserve every good thing, Ezra. This world and every other.” You kissed him softly at the end of his arm and continued up along the cut of his bicep, over the round of his deltoid, along the slope of his shoulder, and rested your open mouth at his pounding pulse point. “If I could, I’d give you everything.” Pressing your body flush against his torso, you began circling your hips down against him. His body was shaking with restraint, perspiration beading at his temples when you lifted your lips to the shell of his ear. “I’d give you everything, but all I have to give you is myself, and so I will. I am yours, my love.”

Ezra rutted up into you with a shivering howl and you smothered it at the source with an achingly passionate kiss. All control abandoned, he grabbed the meat of your hip and dug his fingers in deep, canting his hips to slip himself frantically through your wetness. You snaked a hand between your bodies to swirl the pearl of your clit before dipping two fingers deep inside yourself. You plunged them in and out, curling them against that soft spongy coral of your wall until they were coated in you, and in a single movement withdrew them and wrapped a tight fist around Ezra’s thick cock, spreading your slick over the feverish velvet skin. Angling your fist to position him properly, you pressed your nose into his and looked directly into his glimmering lust-glazed eyes, punctuating each word with a long firm stroke. “I. Am. Yours.”

Ezra pushed inside your heat with a staggering thrust and a wheeze. You slammed down onto him, crying out at the burning stretch, your hands suddenly scrambling for purchase again on his broad shoulders. He buried his face into the well of your collar and growled at the blistering vice of your pussy, straining to hold back to allow you a few seconds to adjust to his size. You met his lips again and let him slide his tongue lazily into your mouth as you slowly lifted yourself off his shaft until only the thick head remained in your channel. You dropped back down onto his cock with a shivering exhale, taking him all the way to the hilt.

Ezra worked into a smooth but brutal rhythm and you met his thrusts in earnest, your thighs burning as you rode him while he slammed up over and over again into the deepest part of you. You could feel you both rapidly unraveling as he held you tight, pressing you down into his pelvic bone and grinding against your sensitive clit while you gasped into each other.

Ezra planted his feet flat on the mattress for leverage and punched up into you urgently, pace starting to falter as his breaths turned jagged and shallow. “I have been,” he huffed sharply, “an aimless and indulgent vagabond.” He choked down air as if drowning. “A derelict wastrel, a wretched… grunt… ne’er-… grunt… do-well.” Ezra ranted, half-conscious in his carnal frenzy like a shark in blood, dragging his mouth and tongue over your body wherever he could reach as cunt-drunk ramblings poured from him.

You felt yourself careening toward your release, spots clouding the edges of your vision, and attempted to ground yourself to Ezra, pushing your face into the crook of his neck and breathing him in, salty and sun-drenched and woody, the tang of sweat baked by his radiant heat, creating something resinous and animalic and ambrette and intoxicating.

“You are an oasis. A… font… of renewal,” he gritted against you, thrusts sloppy as you groaned and wound against him, ready to hurl yourself from your peak. “In you,” he whined, pained, “I am a man remade. Let this poor wretch, oh, fuck, be cleansed, fuck, in your waters.” Ezra nearly wept now. “Please, redeem me. Drag me under.”

You fell apart around him, coming hard with a loud shout of his name, the roof of your mouth tingling and vision blurring with each crashing wave of your orgasm, scrambling to hold on as Ezra frantically chased his own salvation. You chanted your devotions in precious promises against his throat. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you. I’m yours, my beautiful boy, I’m yours.”

Ezra sobbed as he came, body wracked with convulsions as he spilled violently into you, rope after impossible rope of white hot spend a libertine absolution. He leaned back, pulling you forward with him, and continued to pump weakly and intermittently, mewling at the oversensitivity as his come began to seep out around his softening cock, dripping down where your bodies joined, into the muscled cleft of his ass and soaking into the sheets underneath.

When his movements finally stilled, he let his arms fall back and open over the mattress with a quavering sigh, like he meant to make a snow angel in the soiled linens, a few errant tears slipping out into the furrows at the corners of his eyes. You crawled up his chest and tucked yourself tight into his side, wrapping his short strong arm around you and nestling into the sweat-matted hair at his armpit, blissfully ignoring the heavy blanket of still, sticky air that hung in the room. You rested a palm on his smooth, freckled chest, and he covered it entirely with his own massive hand.

Ezra was never silent for long. After a moment, he took your hand from his chest and brought your knuckles to his soft lips. “I am eternally indebted to you and the… vast expanse of your benevolence,” he chuckled softly, still catching his breath. “And I am forever grateful that you have made a happy home for this prodigal son in your boudoir.” The tip of his tongue poked out to wet the cleave of his lip. You smirked and thumbed it open, and he licked at you playfully before giving your fingers a soft nip.

“Thank you for letting me take care of you, little bird,” you lilted, the quiet words full to bursting with adoration. “And I meant what I said.” You took his scruffed chin pointedly and turned his bashful, blushing face to yours. “I would give you everything, if I could.” He exhaled, eyes falling closed as he let himself be momentarily overwhelmed with your affection, pulled into the sea of it. He swallowed wetly, his throat bobbing as he cleared it.

“Oh, beloved,” Ezra purred, low and warm. “You have.”

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[sixhours]

i know you by heart - chapter 1

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Prospect, Joel Miller x Ezra, Joel & Ellie, Ezra & Cee, Joel is bad at feelings and relationships, Ellie is a little shit (affectionate), mostly follows canon after season 1, SMUT, gay sex, bisexual!Joel, period-typical homophobia, light angst, romance, age gap (~10ish years), I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

“Tell me again how it happened.”

It’s a standoff in the kitchen. Ellie’s face, flushed and furious, twists in a pout. Joel grips the back of a dining chair with one tight fist.

One week. It’s been one fucking week since school started, and Ellie has already come home with the pink slip of all pink slips.

“She tried to take my pen. Twice.”

“And?”

“So I…I took my knife out…”

“Uh-huh.”

 “...and I stabbed it into her desk…”

Joel winces.

“...and I told her if she tried that shit again I’d do the same to her fucking finger.”

“Ellie–”

“It’s not my fucking fault no one taught her to keep her hands to herself!”

“I know, and she–she shouldn’t have done that, Ellie, but you can’t just–”

“It’s not like I actually stabbed someone, Joel!”

“Doesn’t fuckin’ matter, kid. You can’t–you can’t do that shit here. This ain’t FEDRA. There’s no hole. Keep it up and they’re liable to put us outside the damn wall.”

“Tommy wouldn’t–“

“He doesn’t run this place. An’ Maria’s already on my ass about…everythin’.”

“Maybe we should leave, then,” she huffs.

“You don’t mean that.”

“We made out okay. We could do it again.”

“Ellie,” his voice softens. He draws his palms down his face. The start of a headache pulses behind his eyes. “Look, I know it’s…different. But we’re here now. We gotta make do.”

Four months in Jackson. Four months since he shot his way out of a hospital in Salt Lake City and carried the unconscious girl to safety. Four months since she asked for the truth and he told her the whopper of all lies instead.

When he thinks about it that way, things are going about as well as he has any right to expect.

He’d hoped going to school would give her some structure, that she’d make a few friends, but so far, every morning has been a trudge, every night a standoff. When she’s not clinging to his side like a lost lamb or waking from nightmares to crawl into his bed, she’s hurling sharp words and slamming doors and stomping around.

Months on the road together, but he’s never seen her so goddamn bratty.

He’s taking a lot of deep breaths. He’s counting to ten. He’s trying not to see the judgmental frowns from his sister-in-law when Ellie storms out of a family gathering or calls him an asshole at the caf in front of the whole fuckin’ town.

She’s never had the space to act out, he reminds himself. She’s never been fed enough, warm enough, safe enough, loved enough, and he gets the brunt of her anger. The way Sarah would come home after a long day at school and turn into a grouchy wildebeest for him after being an angel for her teachers.

It’s normal, he tells himself on the worst nights. Ellie’s making up for fourteen years of repression.

But he’s tired and she’s strumming his last nerve like it’s a fuckin’ guitar.

She’s holding out another note, this one hand-written and co-signed by members of the council. He notes Maria’s signature at the top with some disdain.

“Counseling,” Joel sighs, skimming it. “Mandated. Twelve weeks.”

“You’re not really gonna make me go, are you? C’mon, man, it’s a death sentence!”

“Hardly. You’re lucky they didn’t suspend you.”

“I wish they had. Then I wouldn’t have to go to that stupid fucking school.”

“Ellie–”

“I hate it here,” she spits out. Her lower lip trembles and he has to look away, eking out a tight breath.

“Yeah, kid. I know. But you gotta give it a chance.”

“I did, and it sucks.”

“You’re not giv–”

“Going to my room,” she huffs, already moving for the stairs. 

“You need to eat first,” he says, gritting his teeth when she rolls her eyes. “And you’re grounded.”

Those words have never come out of his mouth. He doesn’t even know what being grounded looks like in this day and age.

“What?! Joel–”

“You heard me,” he says, making it up as he goes. “Two weeks. You’re back here every night after your assignments. No wanderin’ around with your friends.”

“Lucky for me I don’t have any fucking friends.”

“That ain’t–“

“This is bullshit,” she seethes, then turns on her heel and stomps up the stairs.

“Damnit, Ellie, you need to eat–”

“I’m not hungry!”

The door at the top of the stairs slams shut, ending the conversation and leaving Joel to collapse into a chair with his face in his hands.

“Yeah,” he mutters to himself. “Yeah, this is bullshit.”

One week later she’s sulking over breakfast at the house.

“The guy wants to talk to you,” she says through a mouthful of eggs.

“‘The guy’? And close your mouth when you chew.”

Ellie wrinkles her nose, opening her mouth wide to show him her half-chewed breakfast, a move that’s painfully reminiscent of a different time, a different kid.

“I told you at dinner. The counselor guy.”

He frowns. “It’s a guy?”

She rolls her eyes. “And women can even be doctors! Dude, you are so old .”

“S’not what I meant, smartass,” he mutters. “I just…I know you’ve had some, uh…issues with…guys.”

Since Silver Lake , he doesn’t say.

“Only the creepy ones,” she says, stabbing a piece of potato. “Ezra’s not creepy. He’s, like, cool. He has a huge record collection.”

“Uh-huh. An’ he needs to see me why?”

“I don’t fucking know, dude. Unlike you, I didn’t give him the third degree.”

He bites his tongue. “Alright. When?”

“Before school. Today.”

Joel looks at the clock, then back at Ellie. 7:50 .

“So we need to go…right now,” he mutters, draining his coffee and gathering his dishes to put them in the sink. “Thanks for the notice.”

“I told you last night! Not my fault you’re deaf.”

Admittedly, she’d talked a lot at dinner last night. Mostly about how some kid named Dina was a jerk who deserved to have her finger taken off for being a ‘fucking klepto’ with her pen. But he’d been so tired and the headache behind his eyes won’t give him a rest.

“Alright, let’s go,” he sighs. “Don’t forget your bag.”

They step out into the streets of Jackson on a mild September morning. It’s the rush hour–if a town of a few hundred can be said to have a rush hour–with shift changes on the wall and everyone off to their assigned duties. They pass familiar faces; neighbors Joel still doesn’t have names for, kids he recognizes from Ellie’s school who give them a wide berth. Joel hunches inward, following the maroon cast of her sweatshirt through clusters of Jackson residents.

“You don’t have a brother, do you?” she says out of the blue.

“You know I do,” he frowns.

“No duh. But you don’t have another brother, right?”

“Not that I’m aware of, kid.”

“Like, what if your dad had a secret family–”

“Christ, where do you come up with this stuff?”

“C’mon, it can happen! I just–I wondered–”

“What the heck are you gettin' at, kid? Spit it out.”

“It’s nothin’,” she says, but there’s a weird little smile on her face. “You’ll see.” 

She leads him to the little house at the other end of town and knocks on the blue door. Ellie keeps looking up at him with the same funny smirk.

A dark-eyed man answers, peering through the screen. Dark, fitted T-shirt, slim black jeans. Younger than Joel by at least ten years, probably more, with a wide smile and messy black-brown curls with an odd streak of white at his temple.

He looks like a fuckin’ punk.

“Hi, Ezra,” Ellie says breezily. “This is Joel.”

“Hello, young prodigy,” he smiles, drawling in a southern accent that Joel can’t quite place. “Come in, come in both of you…join me in my humble abode.”

He leads them inside and to the right, to a little den just off the entry. It’s a snug office with a couch and chair, a coffee table in the center, and bookshelves lining the walls on either side. A record player sits on a podium in one corner.

Joel puts out his hand, realizing too late the other man isn’t able to reciprocate, lacking an arm with which to do so. Ellie watches with a smug smirk, lips twitching a little as Joel drops his right hand and fumbles through a handshake with his left. He shoots her a glare.

Couldn’t have mentioned that?

She shrugs, feigning a wide-eyed innocence, then looks between the two men with a kind of manic glee, as if waiting for something.

“...what?” Joel finally asks.

“You don’t see it?” She gestures to the other man.

“I don’t–”

“Jeez, I know you’re deaf but I didn’t think you were blind, too,” she groans. “He looks like you! If you weren’t, like, ancient.”

Joel’s face flushes as Ezra tries to hide a smile behind his hand.

“Enough of that, you little shi–smartypants,” Joel mutters.

“I suspect your young prodigy here gets the sense we might be of blood relation based on a similar, uh, distinguished profile.”

“That’s not, uh…that’s not possible, kid.”

“I agree,” Ezra says smoothly. “The universe is rife with serendipitous occurrences, and I do believe that’s what we have here. The mind is a funny thing. We see what we want to see, Ellie.”

“Seriously?!”

“Your dad here–”

“He’s not my dad,” Ellie corrects automatically. Joel can’t help but feel a pang of indignation at the speed with which she pipes up.

“My apologies,” Ezra murmurs. “I stand corrected. This is your…?”

“He’s just Joel.”

“Of course, gem. Just Joel,” Ezra smiles in his direction. “So I asked your Joel here to ensure you understood what we’re doing. As your guardian, Joel needs to be an integral part of this process.”

“Yeah, ‘bout that–what exactly are we doin’ again?” Joel asks.

“I suspect your young prodigy here is finding the adjustment to life in Jackson a bit…finicky. I’m here to help ease that transition in whatever way I can.”

“You can start by telling the other kids to stop fucking touching my stuff,” Ellie adds.

“Christ, Ellie–”

Ezra holds up his hand, cutting off Joel’s growl and addressing the girl. “Let’s not get weighted down by the minutiae of the situation we find ourselves in, gem. Suffice it to say, we have some work to do, and we need to do it cooperatively.”

Ellie crosses her arms and huffs, but Ezra’s easy manner seems to soothe something in the girl.

“Now that you’ve delivered your…Joel…to me, he and I are going to have a little tête-à-tête . Nothing damning, just the facts. And you, if I’m not mistaken, will be late to school.”

He leans down to scribble something on a notepad, then hands it to Ellie. “Give this to your teacher.”

“You go straight to school an’ home after chores,” Joel adds, watching the late slip disappear into the pocket of Ellie’s jeans. “You’re still grounded, ‘member?”

“Like you’d let me forget,” she mutters, trudging out the door, leaving it cracked slightly.

They hear the front door open and shut, but Ezra holds up one finger, watching the entry with sly eyes.

Wait.

Joel catches his drift.

“Ellie,” he says.

“Aw, c’mon, man,” she grumbles from the entry. “If you’re gonna talk about me, I should get to hear it.”

“We’re not going to talk about you, gem,” Ezra says. “But this is a private conversation between your esteemed guardian and myself. Please give us your discretion and make haste.”

“Ugh, fine.”

Ezra goes to the office door and gently shuts it. Suddenly closed in the small room with a stranger, Joel feels a familiar but unwelcome prickle of fear take root. It’s the same feeling that has him sleeping with a gun under his mattress and locking his door at night, despite Tommy’s assurances that Jackson is safe as houses.

Without thinking, he reaches for his holster–the holster that isn’t there, because he doesn’t wear it unless he’s on patrol, because Jackson is a community and not the fucking QZ. It’s a subtle tic, but Ezra notices.

“We can open it if you’d prefer to partake of the fresh air.”

Joel swallows his fear with a dollop of shame. “S’fine.”

Ezra nods. “Have a seat if you like.”

He takes the chair across the small room, considering Joel through thick lashes. His face is kind, but something about the man’s gaze leaves Joel uneasy, like a bug under a magnifying glass. There’s a warm, simmering coil of tension in his gut that he can’t place.

Indigestion , Joel decides. Too much coffee.

He settles on the couch, old cushions and springs protesting, then leans forward on his knees, glancing around.

“You, uh…you like music?” he says, gesturing to the shelves of vinyl just behind Ezra.

“I do,” he says. “I was fortunate to find this sizable collection in the attic upon being assigned a house. I’ve added to it as I find new treasures to trade. And you?”

“Huh?”

“Do you enjoy music, Joel?”

“Uh, sure, yeah,” he says, rubbing at his lips self-consciously. “Play a little here and there. Guitar.”

Ezra’s face lights up. “Ah! A musician!”

“Hardly.”

“Speaking as one who can’t carry a tune in a bucket, color me impressed.”

The office window is wide open, a cool autumn breeze floating through and rifling the other man’s already unruly hair, but a deep heat has settled at the base of Joel’s neck and the room suddenly feels like a hot summer’s day.

He clears his throat. “So, uh…Ellie says you’re a counselor?”

“Indeed.”

“An’ you have, uh, qualifications? Somethin’ that says you’re the man for the job?”

Ezra grins at this. “I know I don’t look the part of the sage, and I can appreciate your frank concern. I do have some experience in this area, surprising as that may be. Before the outbreak, I was a Master’s student in clinical psychology. Although I didn’t get much opportunity to practice for reasons that should be quite obvious.”

“Right.”

“The fine folks of Jackson have been kind enough to give me a place and a profession that suits my abilities. I’m not much use drawing a plow or riding a horse, I’m afraid,” Ezra continues, nodding to his right shoulder.

“But before we proceed, I should like to understand your expectations and to set a few of my own. For one, I’m not here to play Freud. And I’m hardly qualified to make a diagnosis of any sort,” he continues. “A diagnosis isn’t worth a damn in this day and age, and I suspect you’d agree.”

Joel bites his lip. “Look, uh, I’ll be honest. Last time I set foot in a place like this, it did jack shit and ended in a divorce. So you’ll forgive me if I ain’t entirely comfortable with my…with Ellie…comin’ in here and talkin’ your ear off.”

“Trust that you are not the first to express concern or have a, let’s say, downright suspicious quality about this particular practice. But I hope you’ll humor me when I say that I, like you, only want what is best for Ellie. She’s a bright girl, that one. Very perceptive.”

Joel huffs softly. “Too damn smart for her own good sometimes.”

This elicits a tiny smile, leaving Joel worried he’s spoken too harshly.

“But she’s a good kid,” he adds quickly. “A really…good kid.”

Ezra nods. “I hope you don’t mind my saying so, but I think she could benefit from the ear of a friend. As I said, she’s bright. I wanted to try to get a clearer picture of her through your eyes. Your family dynamic, if you will. I take it there’s no Mrs. Joel? Or…Mr. Joel?”

Joel snorts. “Just me an’ her.”

“And she’s adopted?”

“Somethin’ like that,” Joel murmurs, scratching his chin. “We, uh…I had a job to move her out here. From Boston. Was supposed to find, uh…her relatives…but that didn’t work out and my brother, Tommy, gave us a place here.”

Ezra nods but doesn’t say anything further. He sprawls in the chair, legs spread, almost slouched, one forearm draped over the side. Relaxed but intent, eyebrows drawn together with an unspoken question. Joel swallows, finding his mouth suddenly dry.

“You, uh, need to write this down or anythin’?” Joel coughs, gesturing to the notepad on the coffee table in front of them.

Ezra shakes his head, smiling slightly. “No…no, we’re just having a conversation. No need to put it on the record for now. So…Boston to Jackson. That must have been quite the excursion.”

“You could say that.”

“I expect it wasn’t exactly uneventful?”

“No,” Joel says, almost too quickly. “No, it was, uh…she went through a lot. Stuff no kid should have to see…to do. You’ll have to ask her about it, though. S’not my place to talk for her.”

“I intend to do that,” Ezra nods. “I look forward to getting to know her over the next twelve weeks. And hopefully beyond, if she’ll give me the chance.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Joel mutters. “She’s a bit…gunshy. Especially around, uh, men. Even Tommy…she can’t be alone with him, an’ he’s about as tame as they come.”

“But she feels safe with you?”

“Think so. I mean, I’m all she had for months…out there,” he shrugs. “But that went both ways. We’re prob’ly what you shrinks call, uh…codependent.”

Ezra nods, voice softening. “A little codependency can mean the difference between life or death in a difficult time. And I imagine it’s been an adjustment…all this. I know we–I–found it difficult at first. Even the thickest of walls aren’t enough if we don’t feel truly safe in the heart and mind.”

Joel bites his lip. “Yeah…yeah. It’s different.”

“And how about you, Joel?”

“How ‘bout me what?”

“You’ve been through a similar ordeal, I presume, traveling together. And now you find yourself the unexpected father figure to a dynamic and spirited young lady–”

Joel bites back a scoff. “This ain’t about me.”

Ezra shrugs. “I don’t mean to pry, and you’re free to pass on anything you don’t feel comfortable answering, of course. I’m just trying to build a picture in the interest of aiding my work with Ellie.”

The temptation to pass is strong, but that heat in his gut is still there, a distraction loosening his tongue. 

“Yeah, I guess it’s, uh…it’s been a lot. For both of us, but mostly her,” he says, rubbing at the back of his neck. “She’s not used to havin’ someone in her corner. She’s…she was an orphan…before.”

He sighs, allowing himself to sink back into the couch cushions, shoulders loosening a fraction.

“I told her not to bring that damn knife to school in the first place,” he says, glancing down at his broken watch. “But she needed it when we were on the road. She’s prob’ly needed it all her damn life. Seems wrong to ask her to give that up when we’ve only been here a few months. Not that she’s s’posed to be waving it around at folks, or…y’know.”

“Mmm,” he says. “Well, I don’t intend to lay blame here. Raising a child…alone…comes with its fair share of hardships and trials. Regardless, it’s a noble endeavor, to take one into your care.”

He snorts. “Think she’s done more to take care of me than the other way around.”

“If I may be so bold…I suspect you’re not giving yourself enough credit.”

“I’m sure she’ll tell you,” Joel says drily. “Kid’s not one to hold back.”

Ezra grins. “I sensed as much.”

He stands, offering his hand, and Joel takes it. The man’s grip is firm and warm and the memory of his touch lingers on Joel’s skin long after he’s left. That warm flare in his gut throbs, a not-unpleasant heat licking gently at the base of his spine, and he finally places it.

It’s been so damn long since he’s felt that particular burn, being on the road for months, never safe, never alone given Ellie’s constant companionship. There was probably a time or two in his early days with Tess when he found himself surprised by desire, but it was easily smothered, tamed, wrested into submission.

That night, Joel tosses and turns and finally gives into the low-level arousal that’s plagued him all damn day, palming himself roughly through his sweats until he’s fully hard.

He imagines Ezra’s eyes on him, watching, remembers the feel of the man’s skin against his palm. He bites back a groan of pleasure when he eases his waistband over his cock and takes himself out, allowing his grip to tighten and find a familiar, easy rhythm. He can’t get the younger man’s voice out of his head, that low, rumbling baritone, so oddly soothing.

He presses his face into the pillow to muffle the sound when he comes.

[penvisions]

plumage {ezra x reader drabble}

Fandom: Prospect

Pairing: Ezra x F! Reader

Summary: You recall the courtship between you and the man you love.

Word Count: 520

Warnings: allusions to adult content, allusions to smut

A/N: the lovely @morallyinept requested this as part of my follower celebration! i hope it's a good lil blurb for fluffy ezra, he deserves good things. thank you so much for your kind words, ilysm! had a lot of fun writing this ♡

He hadn’t looked like much at first glance. His suit dirty and worn, the glass of it dirty and smudged.

But the second he had opened his plush lips, quirked up in a captivating smirk. You knew you wouldn’t have stood a chance.

He had a way with words, so uncommon for those who subjected themselves to harvesting. He had a grace about him so alluring for someone lacking a vital extremity. He had a yearning in his eyes as he regarded you, lighting up the muddy brown of them every time you found them aimed at you. Facets coming into play as they caught the light, caught the sun, caught the very emotions brimming from him.

The dance of offers, of equal work for equal pay, of time spent together. Letting you see all he had to give, to share, was willing to. Even if the reality of harvesting had been so different before meeting him, a dark spot of brown amidst the lush green of the planet. Time allowed for his colors to show, for his dance to feel intentional and specific to you.

His colors reveal soft lingering gazes, teasing smirks, melodious laughter. His colors reveal intentional touches, a mouth that was capable of winding you around his finger as he showed how his words weren’t empty platitudes. That he craved you in more ways than just one. With burning kisses that lit you up from the inside out, tracing fingers that held you reverently, the rocking of his strong body against your own.

His colors revealed a heart of good intentions, a mind quick and smart, a desire in him to work hard and earn his share of things.

From that endearing patch of blonde amid his dark curls, that smile he flashed, the glitter of his eyes to the admittance of being skilled in this line of work and having been saved previously by a child he had taken in as his own. Cared for and provided for, not allowing her to get into the same life as he had, to ensure she had the opportunity to have a childhood, even if it was a little late.

For all the man’s plumage, he certainly had captured your attention.

And while neither of you had a nest to return to, that didn’t stop you from creating one together.

Equal time and funds and effort from you both that had you opting out of a return to the green that you found each other in. The dangers of which didn’t seem so acceptable now that there was something to be lost…someone to be lost. Opting not to stray too far from each other now that your bond was so complete.

You recalled his first words to you, and you smiled over the twin mugs as you returned to your shared bed to find him sprawled out and tangled within the sheets. His eyes glittered as they spotted you, not yet clear of sleep. A lazy smile taking over his handsome features that were now all yours. He repeated them to you now, bringing forth a smile of your own.

“Well, hey there, pretty bird.”

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐓 || 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌. 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐄𝐳𝐫𝐚

pairing: joel miller x f!reader x ezra (prospect)

genre: smut, filth filth filth, minors dni

word count: 3.9k (this was supposed to be 1k smh)

summary: you, joel and ezra spend the night together in an abandoned cabin during a snowstorm.

warnings: established fwb between reader and joel, dirty talking, voyeurism, male masturbation, undisclosed feelings, underwear being used as a gag, overall just messy smut, piv, rough sex

requested by @doctorliamsr

a/n: this is part of the dark hearted people'verse but it can be read as a standalone. Everything you need to know is in the fic, enjoy 🖤

AO3 | Series Masterlist | Playlist

Ezra smells dust. Nowadays that’s all he can smell. But the deteriorating cabin they had managed to take shelter in certainly wasn’t any help to his poor lungs. He can feel the small specks sticking to the inside of his lungs. He hears you in the kitchen, sounds of plates clicking together, and metal pans scraping as you move them around. Ezra doesn’t concern himself with what you’re doing. At least he tries not to. You’re meant to be nothing more than entertainment, a thing that he would need to turn away from soon enough. 

But being on the road for so long, trying to earn their trust— it’s hard to keep the line between caring for and using for nice and fresh. 

Joel isn’t much of a problem. He’s easier to push away. Ezra has no complaints with how the older man views him as; untrustworthy, dangerous, a person that should be put down before they attacked first. Ezra can see it in Joel’s eyes. The hatred. But he can also see something else, an anger in the other that is worth investigating. It’s the type of anger that Ezra could use for himself; the type of anger that needs a release. Ezra had no arguments about being on the receiving end of said anger. In fact, it looked like it might be fun. 

His fingers skim over the shelves, a thick coat of dust seeping into his fingers. He rubs his thumb and forefinger together, the feeling of it makes his teeth grind. 

Lifting his gaze, he skims over the titles. Nothing really that interesting, mostly encyclopedias, some history books…

Ezra’s eyebrows raise when he comes across an old sketchbook. His interest piqued, he picks it up from the shelf. The cover of the book is made of thick, textured leather, worn with age and use. It is a deep, rich brown, almost the color of roasted coffee beans, and is embossed with an intricate design of vines and leaves. The edges of the cover are frayed and soft, as if it has been held and handled many times over the years.

He smooths the pads of his fingers over the surface. He feels every crease, every ripped edge. His pulse quickens, an immediate bond forming between him and this old sketchbook. He doesn’t even know who the owner of it was. With a soft smile, he opens the sketchbook. 

The pages creak and crackle beneath his fingertips, revealing a treasure trove of beautiful artwork. The pages are yellowed with age and dotted with small flecks of ink, evidence of an artist's hand. Each page is filled with drawings and sketches that span the entire spectrum of human emotion, from joy to despair.

The sketches themselves are incredibly detailed and lifelike. There are delicate portraits of people, captured in moments of stillness and contemplation, as well as bold landscapes and cityscapes that capture the beauty and chaos of the world before. Some of the sketches are unfinished, with bold, confident strokes of the pen giving way to lighter, hesitant lines that trail off into nothingness. 

His thumb traces over the lines that disappear, a sense of familiarity warming his chest. Without showing the others, he sneaks the sketchbook into his inner pocket. He might have some use for it later. At the very least he can stare at it when he’s feeling particularly lost. 

The open kitchen area is dominated by a large, rusted stove and a wooden table that has seen better days. Ezra’s eyes move around the wooden exterior, already taking mental notes of what can and can’t be used. The living room is sparsely furnished, with a sagging couch and a few broken chairs placed haphazardly around an unlit fireplace. The atmosphere is heavy with the scent of wood and old smoke. Joel lays on the couch, Ezra can see his boots dangling over the armrest, his body too broad to be contained by such a small and delicate-looking furniture. 

Ezra sees a rusted axe leaning against the wall and a pile of old books and tattered clothes lying in the corner. The boarded-up windows are covered in thick layers of dust, and cobwebs stretch across the corners of the ceiling.

Outside, the snow falls heavily, piling up against the cabin's walls. It seems as though time has forgotten this cabin and the surrounding wilderness has reclaimed it.

“Should I light the stove?” you ask from the kitchen, drawing Ezra’s attention. The question isn’t directed at him, but an answer already lays heavy on his tongue. 

Before he can say anything, however, Joel beats him to it. A rarity. 

“Sure. How else are we suppose’ to eat?” 

“I found some cans,” you offer. “Peach and pineapple. Some tuna as well but I’m not sure if we should risk it.” 

“Let’s just cook the rabbits.” Joel answers, his voice sounding gruff and heavy with sleep. “I shot them for a reason.” 

“We,” Ezra corrects, prompting the twitch of Joel’s left eyebrow. “We shot them for a reason.” 

Ezra can’t help but head towards the couch, he stands above Joel’s head, staring down at the man trying to sleep. He gently nudges the couch with the tip of his boot and Joel begrudgingly opens his eyes, a snarl already forming on his lips. 

“Wouldn’t lighting a fire put us in danger oh macho man?” 

“In this storm, I doubt anyone would be stupid enough to try and get us,” he grunts, closing his eyes once more. Ezra can see the crinkles of his eyes, the crease between his thick brows as he forces his eyes to remain shut. 

“Does that mean we can light the fireplace too?” Ezra teases, knowing that Joel probably checked the wood and that it was probably unusable.  

Joel doesn’t answer him, and his eyes remain shut. 

Rolling his eyes, Ezra turns to you. You seemed to be in a world of your own, struggling with the old stove and poking it with a rusty spatula. 

“Need help there little bird?” he coos, his feet bringing him to the kitchen.

“I told you to stop calling me that,” you huff, but smile nonetheless. “But yeah. This thing definitely isn’t cooperating.” 

Ezra watches as you make a show of your struggle, as if he doesn’t believe you. Your delicate fingers fumble with the kindling. Something warm and sinister coiling in his stomach, he steps closer. He can almost hear your heartbeat, fluttering like a caged bird. 

"Give’em here," he mutters, his voice low as he reaches for the matches. Ezra allows his fingers to brush against yours. He almost groans at the jolt of electricity he feels, a sharp sensation burning him all the way up to his shoulder. 

With a flick of his wrist, the kindling ignites, and the flames dance to life.

Your eyes go wide, a brilliant orange flickering in your eyes. He can’t help but lean in, take a closer look. He’s sure you can feel his breath across your cheeks, warming you from the inside out. Sucking a breath, you pull back, your gaze falling to the rabbits on the kitchen counter. 

“Thanks.” 

“Always a pleasure to be of your assistance,” he answers, lips curling into a cat-like smile. “You two are helping me find my rather precious supplies after all. The least I can do is help prepare dinner.” 

Your silence speaks words. Ezra follows your lead, preparing the rabbit and emptying a couple of cans of peas to go along with it. It’s not as chaotic as it would normally be when dinner is being prepared. There isn’t much to do so your movements are more languid, a simple dance as you occupy each other’s spaces. He enjoys the dance. He enjoys the way you try to avoid him by not making eye contact, but he’s more observant than you and Joel give him credit for. 

He notices the stolen glances. He notices the way Joel stiffens on the couch, trying to catch on to what was happening, while still keeping his eyes closed. 

But by all means, he’s not innocent. Ezra's gaze lingers on your every move, taking in the curve of your neck, the gentle sway of your hips. He wants to grab you by the nape, push you down and fuck you right then and there. Unlike him and Joel, You have an unbridled need to trust others. He likes that about you. He likes that you listen and believe in what he says, despite what your partner in crime might think. 

Placing the pieces of rabbit into the pot, you turn to grab a spoon. 

Ezra feels it before he sees it— The accidental brush of your ass against his groin, your softness and curves forcing him to hold his breath. A hiss makes its way between clenched teeth. The two of them stay like that, your back to his chest, neither one of you daring to move. Your breathing accelerates slightly, the sound prompting him to further close the distance, his body towering over yours. 

Time seems to stand still in that moment, and he’s content to just stay like that forever. Frozen in time. Just like this cabin buried within the snow. 

The fabric of his shirt and pants are rough against his skin, and the feeling only serving to heighten the arousal coursing through his veins. He aches to fill you up, to feel the warmth of your body around him, to finally fuck you until you go stupid. His cock stiffens under his pants, eager to follow the path of his twisted mind.

He can’t help himself, his hands wrap around your waist, pulling you closer. You don’t stop, your movements slow as you allow him to hold you. He can hear the blood rush in his ears, his breath comes in shallow gasps. 

He can feel Joel’s gaze on them both, but Ezra doesn’t stop. 

He’s not a weak man, but he’s not that strong either. That he can fight the temptations

Ezra’s fingers move up your  shirt, gently tracing circles on your skin, his touch light, fleeting like every moment in this world was. He wants more than anything to kiss you, to feel your lips on his, to taste your sweetness. 

But he can’t.

Some part of Ezra wants Joel to get mad, to march over to the kitchen and bend him over. He wants to hear the older man growl into his ear, telling him to behave. Ezra’s heart races at the thought, his mouth filling with saliva not from the scent of rabbit but from the one that seems to despise him. He lets out a slow breath, his fingers twitching and burrowing themselves further into your body. 

Finally, you pull away, your movements a beat too fast, and panicked. 

A chill envelopes him without your heat. He ignores the tug at his heart, the ache in his lower stomach. Ezra turns to cook the peas, but in his periphery, he notices Joel still staring at them from the couch. His gaze is blank and unreadable, but there's something about it that makes Ezra's skin crawl. 

He turns away, focusing his attention on the food, but the moment has already been broken.

The flickering flames are nothing but small ambers warming the late hours of the night. The cabin is a spacious one, filled with rooms, but Ezra had decided to spend time by the fire, leafing through the sketchbook he’d found before dinner. It’s a pleasantly look through. Ezra had missed seeing other faces beside his and those who he was with. He’d forgotten how different people can look. 

He only looks up when the small dots of orange of the ambers also fade away. The cold of the night settles in and he decides to head to bed. They would leave in the early hours of the morning so it’s probably best to sleep early rather than later. Ezra winces at the way his muscles ache, the bottoms of his feet burning with the rough drag of his tattered insoles. He can’t wait to be rid of them. 

Walking through the dark hallway, he wonders where you and Joel are asleep at. Ezra, again, had notices that you and Joel are in some kind of situantionship—he suspects there is more to it— but you two never actually slept in the same room together. He presumes it’s part of the deal you two have going on. 

Ezra’s fingers graze against the worn walls, all the room doors seem to be wide open, not a soul inside. How peculiar. His lips part and he rubs his jaw, he’s in dire need of a shave. 

Once more, he checks the rooms. Nope. There wasn’t a single soul inhabiting these rooms. 

His heart races with the sudden thought that you and Joel might’ve ditched him, but then he calms himself. Takes a deep breath. With the snow laying as thickly as it did outside, it would be suicide to leave. 

So where the hell are they? 

He suddenly catches sight of a faint light in the distance. Intrigued, he quickens his pace and turns the corner to find a covered walkway leading to a small shed.

The walkway is made entirely of glass, with moss and ivy creeping up the walls, the panes reflecting the flickering of the moonlight. Ezra's eyes travel upwards, taking in the sight of the roof, which is covered in a thick layer of snow. The shed itself looks ancient, its wooden walls and door rough and worn.

When he reaches the shed door, he hears heavy breathing and soft moans pouring through the crack of the door. His steps slow. He knows what they’re doing. 

He knows that they’re fucking. 

His breath caught in his throat, he nears the door until he can peer inside. There’s a lantern dimly illuminating the room and he can see your bodies clearly from where he stands. You’re bare naked, hands hanging on a wooden beam for dear life with your breasts pressed against it. Joel looms behind you. Fully clothed, except for his cock that Ezra can see the base of every time the older man pulls his hips back. 

Stupidly, Ezra steps a bit too close, the tip of his boot nudging the wooden door ever so slightly. A creak echoes and Ezra stops breathing. Eyes glued to your moving forms, sweat glistening across your skin, he holds his breath and watches, waiting for one of you to hear him. 

Neither you nor Joel notices the uninvited visitor, too lost in the pleasure, in the warmth—in the act of it all. 

His cock twitches eagerly, growing under the confinements of his jeans. Licking his lips, he unbuttons himself and sneaks a hand down his pants, cupping his erection. The cold that littered his skin melts away, leaving burning ash and coal in its wake. A soft groan echoes in the back of his throat. His fingers squeezing the base, and moving up to swipe a palm over his weeping head. 

He hears your moans, Joel’s grunts. He can’t help it. The other man pounds into you with an intensity and desperation Ezra had only seen in animals. He thinks of the moment in the kitchen, what he thought of when you had your ass pressing against his clothed cock—how desperately he wanted the older man to put Ezra in his palace, how he wanted to feel that anger and hatred being let out against his weaker body. 

Heat builds at the end of his spine, he circles his cock with thick fingers, his lips parted as he comes even closer to the door. He can almost smell the sex and sweat clinging to your skin, he wants to get closer, wants to inhale you and burrow you into his lungs. He gives his cock a not-so-gentle tug, hissing as pleasure pricks at his skin. 

His fingers move faster, spreading the drops of precum over his length. His breathing becomes shallow and erratic. His balls tight as he watches the two of you. The moans and grunts coming from the two of you become a soft background noise, almost like background music to his own pleasure.

He can hear murmuring but can’t decipher the words. Not that he cares. Ezra’s hips stutter forward, every muscle drawn taut, he slides his hand along his length. Joel grabs at something from the side, underwear—your underwear, to be precise. 

His breathing hitches and his heart stops— he watches as Joel brings the fabric to your lips, your moans and words coming only as muffled noises, your eyes rolling back in pleasure. 

Ezra's eyes widen, his body shuddering. He can feel it, he's so close, but he can't bring himself to finish, not yet. He pulls his hand away from his now aching cock and takes a step back, away from the door. His erection still throbbing, he wants to—no, he needs to watch. This is a rarity, something he’s only thought about in the late hours of the night. 

He takes a deep breath, his heart still racing and his cock still pulsing. Gathering his thoughts, he takes a step closer to the door, unable to tear his eyes away from the scene. He can feel his body heating up, his mouth going dry. Ezra reaches down, feels the weight of his balls, and rolls them over his fingers. He has to bite his bottom lip to not make a noise. His nostrils flare as he breathes heavily, the pleasure burning him from the inside out.  

His other hand reaches for his cock, squeezing the head and giving himself hard, slow, strokes. 

Ezra continues to watch, mesmerized. Joel shows mercy and reaches for your mouth. The fabric is pulled away, revealing swollen lips and wet, skin. Joel thrusts harder, faster. His hips move with a frantic rhythm, his grunts becoming louder and more frequent. 

His chest aches, more precum dripping and making a mess of his pants. He hisses through his teeth. 

Ezra’s not sure how much longer he can hold on. 

“You realize he’s watchin’ us right?” 

He grips your hair and tilts your head back, lips finding a spot over the hallow of your neck. Joel bites into the warm skin, his chest trembling with a growl. Your thighs quiver, your insides desperately clenching around his cock. You do realize but you’re too far gone to care. 

And it doesn’t help that your brain purrs at you, telling you how much you’re enjoying Ezra’s hot, heavy gaze on you. 

“You like that he’s seein’ you like this? All fucked out barely able to speak.” 

“S-Shut up, Joel.” 

“You’re a brat.” he clicks his tongue, sharp and loud in your ear. “Takin’ the praise but not takin’ the punishment. That’s not how the world works, honey.” 

Joel takes you harder now, pushing you up against the beam, your body trembling as he drives himself into you. His grip tightens around your waist as he pumps into you. You feel the sweat dripping down your skin, your body for him to use. You clench around him, your cunt dripping down his length and wetting your thighs. A soft whimper parts your lips, the burn in your loins a stark reminder that you’re going to be feeling this tomorrow. 

“I’m startin’ to think you have a little crush on him, sweetheart. Not sure how I feel ‘bout that.” he grunts. “Or maybe you just wanted to rile me up with that little stunt—grindin’ your ass against him,” Joel presses into you deeper, coaxing a shout trembling in your chest. “You know how I feel about sharin’, especially with someone who’s out to get us.” 

“We’ve been on the road for a month. He’s safe. Stop being so paranoid.” 

He cups the back of your neck, thick fingers reaching both sides, he squeezes and pulls your head back. His lips touch the side of your cheek, movements slowing to a torturous grind. 

“It’s been a month and he’s making us go in circles. How the hell are we supposed to find his equipment after so long? He’s stringing us along for his damn pleasure.” 

A grin curls at the corner of your lips. You’re about to say something really stupid, but you can’t help it, you love getting under his skin, pressing his buttons. 

“You like him.” 

“I don’t.”

Suddenly you feel something dry being shoved between your lips. Your eyes go wide when you realize it’s your underwear, the one Joel had been so eager to rip away from you.  Joel clamps a hand over your mouth, his other hand drops to your waist, and blunt nails bite into your skin. 

“I’m sick of your yappin’,” he grunts, hips picking up the pace. “Just fuckin’ take it, I don’t need your needless observations.” 

You bite into the fabric of your underwear, muffling a moan as Joel drives himself into you. His hips thrust up, pushing him deep inside you, his cock stretching your walls. His grip tightens, drawing a sharp hiss from you. You’re so far gone, barely able to focus on anything besides the pleasure coursing through your veins.

Joel’s breath is hot against your ear, his voice a low, rumbling growl. “He’s probably touchin’ himself. Fuckin’ his fist as he wishes it was your sweet cunt instead.”

Your body quivers, a wave of pleasure crashing over you. The thought of Ezra watching, his eyes hungrily devouring you—another muffled moan seeps into the fabric, spit dripping from the corners of your lips. Joel’s thrusts become more desperate, more primal. His fingers dig into your hips, his grunts turning into a feral snarl as he slams into you.

The pleasure builds, every nerve in your body on fire. Joel’s hand tightens around your throat, his thumb stroking your clit as he continues to drive himself into you. You’re so close, your body trembling. With one final thrust, Joel pushes you over the edge. 

He rips the underwear away from your mouth, dropping it to the floor. 

You scream, your voice echoing in the night air. All you can think of is Ezra; the darkness of his gaze, the poetic lilt to his tongue—the way he’s probably fucking his fist just like Joel said. You clench, gushing around his cock. His fingers continue to circle the sensitive bundle of nerves, lighting your fire again and again as his cock strokes your deepest parts.

“That’s it,” he groans, lips pressed against your heat. You tremble at the rasp in his voice. “You like it, don’t you? Being used by one while being forbidden fruit to the other? My insatiable fuckin’ whore.” 

He nuzzles your cheek and it feels like whiplash, but you lean into it, nonetheless. He’s right, you do enjoy it. 

Pulling out, Joel follows shortly after, his body going rigid as he spills himself over the curve of your ass. It’s hot and sears your skin, you wish you could feel that warmth inside, feeling it dripping out of you when he pulls away.  

You collapse against the beam, your body tingling. You’re sweaty and out of breath, but still, your eyes move to the door. You don’t see him, however, you do hear soft footsteps moving further and further away. 

You’re not sure which one of you left the door open, you or Joel. 

[wannab-urs]

Ravage

Pairing: Ezra (Prospect) x f!Reader (in the role of Venetia)

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: “Oh birdie… I could just eat you.” OR Saltburn-style hate as consumption

Warnings: Weird vibes, period/menstruation smut, bloodplay and blood consumption, weird classism stuff, biting, fingering, oral f!receiving

A/N: Inspired by, but not a one for one recreation of, the Saltburn vampire scene between Ollie and Venetia. It’s a little combo of both scenes between them that take place outside the mansion + some details I thought would make it more interesting. Oh and I skipped the ED stuff.  Thanks to @beskarandblasters and @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for letting me yell about this fic

Ezra Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi

You’d left your room in a near daze, wandering the halls of your family’s estate barefoot and in your thin nightdress. A wraith speared through by the moonlight, flitting from corridor to corridor until you ended up outside. You settled on a bench just below the guest room window and gazed out toward the labyrinth. It felt, often, as if your mind were trapped in that hedge maze. Circling, wandering, endlessly lost. 

“Birdie?” 

You nearly topple off the bench, a scream getting tangled in your throat and falling in a pathetic whimper from your lips. 

“Fucking hell, you scared me.”

Ezra, your brother’s friend, steps out of the shadows. He pops his knee out and puts his hands on his hips, eyeing you. 

“Apologies, little bird. I feared you might be sleepwalking.” 

You give the man a withering glare. His way of speaking seems to come naturally to him, though from anyone else you’d swear it was some sort of performance. Perhaps a mockery of high society or the educated class. 

“I just wanted to look at the moon. It’s nearly full. You know what that means?” You turn your gaze to the sky and draw your bottom lip into your mouth. 

“Can’t say that I do. Enlighten me.” 

You flick your eyes to him without dropping your chin. “We’re all about to lose our minds.” 

Ezra stares at you a moment, the blonde patch in his hair nearly glowing in the light, and a deep chuckle suddenly bubbles from his chest. You join him in his laughter, even though you think he’s making fun of you. He goes quiet again, staring at you. 

“You must be cold,” he intones, stripping out of his plush robe – provided by your family, of course, so really it’s your robe. He’s nearly naked underneath, broad chest bared to the moonlight, bulge in his briefs at your eye level. 

“I’m coldblooded. We’re all coldblooded. Haven’t you noticed?” Your voice holds a note of disdain – for him or your family, you’re not sure – but you take the robe from him and wrap it around your bare shoulders. 

“Oh birdie, you’re not coldblooded. Your family has been more than generous to me.” Ezra drifts closer to you and you almost unconsciously part your thighs. 

“Sweet,” you whisper. 

“No one has ever ventured so far as to call me sweet, little bird.” Ezra saunters away from you, turns his back on you, and it feels somehow like a loss. 

“Real, then.” 

Ezra hums, moves behind the bench you’re sitting on and lets your back press against his naked torso. 

“You’re presumptuous,” you sneer, as if you hadn’t just been mourning the loss of his heat between your thighs. 

Ezra’s hand threads into your hair and tilts your head back as he bends to whisper in your ear, “And you are adorned in a transparent night dress just outside my window.” 

Your body shudders, in fear or arousal or both. “It’s– it’s my house. I can go wherever I want.” You try for defiant, but your voice shakes. 

“Oh, okay. And your desires led you to be in a transparent nightdress just outside my window?” He straightens again and pulls your body back into his. 

“I didn’t really think about it.” 

“Just a masochist, then.” It’s not a question. He moves slowly, almost predatory, until he’s settled on his knees in front of you. 

“Maybe,” you stare at the moon, refusing to look at him kneeling before you. 

He sits up on his knees, pinches your chin in his fingers and forces you to look at him. “Oh birdie… I could just eat you.” 

He grabs the hem of your nightdress and shoves it roughly up your thighs. You smack his hands, shoving the gown back over your legs. He pushes the hem up again, and you don’t stop him. Your hands grip the bench beside you. 

“Ezra. It’s– it’s not– it’s not the right time of the month,” you plead with him halfheartedly. You don’t want him to stop now. 

“Do you think that will hinder me?” He quirks an eyebrow at you, his hands gripping the meat of your thighs tightly. “How fortunate for you, birdie, that I am a vampire.” 

The tip of his middle finger swipes through your folds. You gasp sharply, but his hand is gone as quickly as it came. He holds his fingers up in the scant space between your faces. You feel trapped in his gaze as the pink tip of his tongue flicks against his shiny red finger. He traces your bottom lip with it and your mouth falls open. 

You’re trapped somewhere between disgust and awe. His finger plunders your mouth, smearing your own slick and blood on your tongue. His other hand snakes up your thigh, two fingers plunging into your slick heat while the fingers in your mouth hook your jaw. He shoves your head back until you’re looking directly above you, the robe falling from your shoulders. 

You’re hooked on him at both ends, unable to pull away even a fraction. You gasp and moan around his digits, pressed so far back in your throat you’re almost gagging on them. His thick fingers feel perfect inside you, gliding easily through your slick and blood. 

He drags your face to his, slotting your lips together. It’s not so much a kiss as Ezra trying to eat you alive. His right hand slips from your mouth and grips your hair. He drags your head backward even further, forcing your chest out and baring your throat to him. You are entirely at his mercy. His lips and teeth clatter down your neck. His tongue dips into the hollow of your throat, his teeth graze your collar bone, his lips close around your pulse point and he sucks hard enough to bruise. 

He jerks your head back up to stare into his eyes once again. “You got a little something there,” he whispers, his thumb dragging over your bloodstained chin. He has a feral glint in his eye. He looks every bit like a wild animal barely contained in the body of a man, and he’s on his knees before you. 

You almost laugh. Maybe you do laugh. He throws the hem of your nightgown over his head and buries his face between your thighs. He grips your hips tightly, pinning you to his face and keeping you from toppling completely off the bench. 

His tongue curls languidly through your folds, as if he’s trying to collect every bit of you and swallow it down. You grab his head through the sheer fabric of your dress and let yourself fall into the sensation. 

Two of his fingers slip easily into your cunt and his tongue finds your clit. He lathes your bud in steady circles, bringing you to the edge. You squeeze your eyes shut so tightly you see starbursts of color behind your lids. His fingers curl perfectly into your spongy walls and your eyes snap open as your body convulses in pleasure. 

Ezra quickly replaces his fingers with his tongue, your core spasming around the wet muscle. His hand, shiny with your own blood, slithers up your body, smearing red on your nightdress. His face remains buried in your cunt as his hand finds it’s way to your mouth. You should push them away, but you let him press the pads of his fingers against your tongue, let him fill you up with his spit and your slick and your blood. Your lips close around his digits and you suck them clean. 

He groans into your pussy before dragging his lips down your inner thigh. You can feel a wet trail where his mouth has been, skin tingling from his mustache. His teeth latch onto the sensitive flesh where your thigh meets your groin and you scream, the sound muffled by his fingers in your mouth. He almost certainly broke skin. 

He releases your flesh only to bite down again, slightly lower. You bite down on his fingers in return, splitting open the skin of his knuckles. You smooth the bite with your tongue as he finally drags his hand out of your mouth. 

Ezra places his left hand on the small of your back and brings his right back beneath your nightdress. You wish you could see more of him than the outline of his body between your thighs. 

His lips close on your clit at the same time he buries his fingers inside you, your blood combining with his inside you. He pumps his fingers deep inside you, so hard it feels like he’s trying to scoop out your insides. His blunt nails catch your front wall and you try to squirm away from him, crying out at the sharp sensation. He clutches you closer to him, catches your clit in his teeth and smooths the pads of his fingers over your agonized cunt. 

You are shockingly close to coming again, despite the pain radiating from your thigh. His tongue joins his fingers inside you and you bear down on him, his aquiline nose grinding into your clit. His nails dig into your back, pulling you even closer to his face, and you’re free falling. 

You cry out into the wet night air, feeling at once scattered in the breeze and held entirely in the grip of the man still between your legs. He rises slowly, releasing you. You nearly fall backward without the support of his strong hands on your body. You cling to the bench, chest heaving, panting breaths puffing mist into the air between you. 

The moonlight casts him in an eerie glow, but his face is almost entirely in shadow. He looks satisfied or disgusted, you can’t quite tell. He turns on his heel and saunters slowly back up the stairs, leaving you beneath his window. 

[pedroshotwifey]

Pedro Pascal Characters:

Joel Miller

Din Djarin

Frankie "Catfish" Morales

Jack "Whiskey" Daniels

Ezra (Prospect)

Javier Peña

Dave York

Marcus Pike

Max Lord

Javi Gutierrez

Marcus Moreno

Dieter Bravo

Oberyn Martell

Other Characters:

Logan/Wolverine

Series:

Favorite Bounty Din Djarin x f!reader - All it takes is a beskar-covered bounty hunter and his little green child to transform your life completely. Settling into life on the Razor Crest is easy enough, but what happens once the tension between you and the Mandalorian gets to be too much? Will you be able to handle the conflict that keeps getting thrown your way? (47.8k ongoing)

To the Flame Dark!Javier Peña x afab!reader - It doesn't take much for you to fall in love with the objectively perfect, older man from your home town. He easily sweeps you off your feet, and helps you to remember what happiness feels like until you think he's truly all you'll ever need in life. What happens though, once he tethers you down and starts to change before you have a chance to realize what's happening? (53.9k ongoing) DDDNE

Other Collections:

Christmas Countdown Collection A series of one shots containing a mix of fluff, angst, smut, or a mix of all three! (Complete)

Requested fics (my ask box is always open!) A mix of delicious fics resulting from delicious requests

Drabbles lil fics around 500 words

[aliorsboxostuff]

MALE!READER WRITING REQUESTS OPEN!

Come check out my works bellow!

I've seen how devastatingly little male!reader fics are in my big fandoms, and as a gay man i feel like i should provide us with said fics! Which is why I'm opening my ask box for any and all male!readers and gn!readers requests! (Including anon requests!)

RULES:

I WON'T ACCEPT FEMALE!READER FICS REQUESTS. I’m a trans-masc genderfluid, so male!Readers or gn!Readers are the ones that I usually write and am comfortable with. It’s hard looking for male!reader fics, especially in female-dominated fandoms, that's why I'm opening requests for any and all sad and touch-starved dudes out there! If these don't fit your preferences then you are free to leave, and if you're a female user/reader entering my blog, I hope you remain respectful about the fics I write or get requests for, thank you.

NOTE: I NEVER USE ANY FORM OF Y/N IN MY FICS. Please be aware that i write based on my current fixations. Fixations may vary in how much i want to write them so i’ll be ranking from the MOST interested to the LEAST interested but will write. Please be patient in waiting for your fics as i, sadly, have IRL work to worry about too! 

What i will write:

male!reader

gender-neutral reader

Ftm! Reader

Smut 

Platonic or Romantic relationships

Kid!reader (ONLY platonic-parental relationships)

angst

fluff

comfort

headcanons

nsfw alphabets

drabbles

Series

Age gap (CHARACTERS MUST BE OVER THE AGE OF 19)

What I Won't write:

female!reader

underage characters (anyone under 17)

necrophilia

real people

pedophilia

Omorashi

age play

rape/non-con

incest

offensive/harmful things

THE CHARACTER LIST!

Current immediate fixation:

HOUSE MD (Up to s2)

Gregory House 

James Wilson

Robert Chase

Lisa Cuddy

PEDRO PASCAL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE

Ezra (prospect)

Joel Miller

Javi Gutierrez

Javier Peña

Frankie Morales

Whiskey (Kingsman)

MORTAL KOMBAT 1

Johnny Cage

Kenshi Takahashi

Tomas Vrbada

Syzoth

HONKAI STAR RAIL

Boothill

Welt

Sampo

Gallagher

Dr. Ratio

JUJUTSU KAISEN

Satoru Gojo

Nanami Kento

Higuruma Hiromi

Ryoumen Sukuna

Yuuji Itadori (Fluff)

Toge Inumaki (Fluff)

Less interested (but will write) Fixations:

TOP GUN 86’ & TOP GUN: MAVERICK

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin

COD MODERN WARFARE II

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

John 'Soap' Mactavish

König

DETROIT: BECOME HUMAN

Connor (RK800)

Nines (RK900)

HONORABLE MENTIONS

Chris Knight (Real Genius)

Hannibal (NBC)

The Corinthian (Netflix Sandman)

Leon S. Kennedy (RE4 Remake)

Luis Serra (RE4 Remake)

Understand that these are all works of fiction; I am perfectly fine with writing for topics including mafias, mobs, murder, organized crime, war, mental illness, abuse, etc.; but please do not romanticize them in any way. Reading it is fine; please don't romanticize them in your head.

If any of this provided information may seem confusing or have any questions, feel free to drop a DM and I will explain further! I will try to post fic requests as regularly and as fast as I can!

For refrence, these are fics i've written and uploaded to my AO3!

Steven Grant/Male Reader fluff

XMEN Family Pride Fic

Steven Grant/Male Reader Smut #1

Steven Grant/Male Reader Smut #2

Deadpool/Male Reader Fluff Confession

Deadpool/Ftm Reader Smut

Robert 'Bob' Floyd/Male Reader Fluff

Robert 'Bob' Floyd/Male Reader sunshine x grumpy

Tangerine/Male Reader Fluff/Angst Mature

Tangerine/Male Reader Mature

Tangerine/Male Reader (Escort Fic) Mature

Tangerine/NB Reader Teen&Up

Tangerine/Gender-Fluid Reader (Coming out fic)

Francisco "Catfish" Morales/Husband Reader

Joel Miller/Ftm Reader & Ellie Fluff

Joel Miller & Kid Reader

Joel Miller/Ftm Reader & Tess Fluff a bit Angst

Miguel O'hara/Male Reader Fluff

Miguel O'hara/Male Reader Spicy Fluff

Miguel O'hara/Male&GN Reader Spicy Fluff

Miguel O'hara/Male&GN Reader Fluff slight Angst

Din Djarin/Boyfriend Reader Smut

And the Short Fics/Drabbles on Tumblr!

Pulse (Tangerine/M!reader)

Deep Dive (Namor/M!reader)

Hold Tight (Tangerine/gn Reader)

Ner Mesh'la (Din Djarin/Male Reader)

Trinkets (Kurt Wagner/Gender-fluid Reader)

"Anythin' you wanna be." (Hobie Brown & Ftm Reader)

Little Nap! (Meows Morales Drabble)

Anyone that starts an argument about me writing exclusively for men and gender neutrals alike will get a very passive-aggressive and sarcastic reply to your request. There is an abundance of female!readers fics and writers who provide them; I am just here for people that takes a whole day searching for good male!reader fics. IF you do start an unnecessary rant about my fics or my writing preferences at a given moment; I’ve been in fandom spaces for the last 7 years of my life and run on pure manic adrenaline, I will throw hands. 

Without further ado, REBLOG TO TELL ALL DUDES! I OPEN MY FLOOD GATES! WELCOME ALL MALE!READER REQUESTS!

[pedgito]

Hiiiii, can i ask for one of Ezra with smut plsssss? i really loved the pre-outbreak!joel miller <3 thankssss

pairing | ezra (prospect) x fem!reader

content warning | 18+ content, dubcon (it's a sex pollen fic, so just to be safe) but it's fairly consensual aside from that, but read at your own risk! this is set pre-movie time, so the plot is pretty loose, mutual masturbation, unprotected sex [6.5k]

author’s note | smut starts about 3k words in if you just want the naughty bits! i wanted to try something new for the recent milestone i hit as a treat but if this flops don't look at me, i've never written this trope before forgive me

↝ other fics | requests? | ao3

The sky is a sickening yellow that burns in the daylight here, hand crowding over your face to block out the glaring sun as it beats down, sweating through the thick padding of the suit that acts as your lifeline. You hate these trips, the ones that are purely for scouting and not for the attempt at digging and coming away with at least something of value to keep for yourself. It seems pointless and reckless, always poised for an attack by rival prospectors threatening to lay claim to an area you haven’t learned much about. 

Luckily, this moon was untouched. Nothing like the ravenous Green you were used to. It’s both a relief and a danger. There was something off about this place, the air, the ground, the foliage that surrounded, and the lack of active life. Not an animal, parasite, nor any other species, human or something similar to be found. It’s barren and eerie but full of energy, the plants surrounding breathing in the air as if they are the living beings of this place.

You’ve only ever heard about these places in stories; the moons that no one dared to visit in fear that they might never leave, that the ground would swallow them whole and feast on their bodies. No one that landed ever left, always mysteriously disappearing off the face of the universe. 

Yet somehow, you still ended up here. Alone, completely alone. 

“What a sight this is,” A voice speaks from a distant, head whipping around all sides to find the source, the bulbous helmet obstructing your view, “do my eyes deceive me?”

You left your gun on this ship–first mistake. But, you had the small knife tucked away in your pocket handy and ready for use if needed, fingers lingering around the pouch until your eyes laid claim to the person the voice belonged to. Helmetless, too.

“You stay–you stay back,” You warn, voice shaken, “why are you–how are you breathing this air?”

Almost for show, he takes a deep breath.

“Amazing, is it not?” He asks, shifting some of the tall foliage out of the way as he walked closer, following the make-shift trail along the dirt that threaded through the tall plants, encasing you in a small fortress. “I only found out a couple days ago. It is–quite amazing, you agree?”

“Why are you here?” You avoid his weird approach at an introduction, examining his features to assure he was human–it seemed that way, a small scar settled under his left eye that brought you more questions alongside the small patch of white hair hovering above his forehead. His accent was even stranger, from some far off area you’ve never heard of, the dialect all it’s own.

“I could be asking you the same thing, little bird.” He tilts his head curiously, tapping on the thick glass of your helmet as he approaches closer, “This is…high end. Interesting. What is someone like you doing out here, all alone?”

“My job. I'm here to prospect and harvest.” 

It's what everyone’s job was now–digging for gems and valuables to make a profit, making a living, keep themselves alive. Wash, rinse, repeat. You did well, always came back with a plentiful bounty. But, something told you this time was different.

“So, you're a floater. Where do you reside?” He asks curiously. "If you even have a home."

“Doesn’t matter.” You ignore him, “Are you going to kill me?”

You can see the gun attached to his hip and loaded, just a small flinch and he could have you dead in a millisecond.

“Now, come on–give me some of the benefit.” He pleads, but takes a second too long to continue, his face quickly morphing into amusement, “Unfortunately, you’re right, birdie. I’m required to shoot on sight, protect the product, and wait for the arrival of my crew. Now, why am I telling you this?”

“You want me to leave.”

His smile grows wider, his body tilting into the movement as he dips into his next step, snapping his fingers in a ‘aha!’ fashion, proving that you were correct. 

“Smart, I appreciate that,” He compliments, his face quickly washed of emotion when he sees you unmoving, the small knife now poised between your fingertips, lowered close to your waist, “heaven waits girl, flee or die.”

“You don’t scare me,” You assure him, flipping the knife in a defensive stance as he invades your space further, watching you, examining. Like a meal, “what are you protecting here?”

“Hmm, brave…” He ripostes, “What do you think?”

It feels like he’s fishing–for information or clues and it dawns on you, the small amount of hesitation he has for not killing you outright, almost like he’s afraid.

“I think you have no idea what this place holds,” You challenge him, “how did you find out this air was breathable exactly? Did you trip? Were you attacked? Or were you just that stupid enough to take your gear off on a hunch?”

The silence is long and telling, his demeanor changing on a dime again, eyebrows furrowing slightly in annoyance and…anger?

“Oh shit,” You huff out a laugh, “were you–you were abandoned weren’t you? Betrayed by your own men? Your filters junked and took your fuckin’ chances like a dunce, but man, people like you are hard to kill, aren’t they?”

“You don’t know what you’re walkin’ into,” He warns, “you wanna take them chances alone?”

Truth is, he didn't either. He hadn't stepped a few yards away form his camp until now, too terrified by what lingered come nightfall, the planet feeling like it might split under your feet.

You’ve met men like him before, scared little boys hiding behind their big man persona to fill their own egos, but when it came down to it, he was just as terrified in this world as you.

But, at least you could admit it.

“I came here alone,” You point out, “What do you think?”

He knows the answer but doesn’t respond and eventually, he retreats.

“Look, girl–there’s somethin’ out there and it’s...big, loud–whatever it is, it’s alive and if you’re not terrified to go near it, you’re insane. I hear it at night, it’s worse than anything you can imagine, even the stories your parents told you as a child. Something is hidin' here, waiting.”

You always knew that the real monsters were the people, like you, because they had motive and intent, which made them far more dangerous.

You grab onto the connectors of your suit suddenly, decompressing your helmet on a whim. The air is crisp and clean despite what you’re expecting–it doesn’t burn or constrict, rather it expands, breathing a new feeling into your lungs.

“Fear is a good thing,” You tell him, nicking his hand with the knife unexpectedly when he moves to close, a quick prick that catches him off guard as he pulls away, nursing his thumb between his lips as he sucks, “keeps us human, right?” 

Because whatever fear you had felt earlier toward the man had quickly dissipated and shifted onto him, his eyes a little darker as he watched you pocket the knife, letting your guard down when you realize just how helplessly harmless he was despite how he flared himself off in the beginning. 

“I’m not leaving here empty handed,” You take in the full frame of him, tall and lean but less intimidating now, “are you?”

It was a mistake, something you will soon realize. Most of the moon is covered in a deep foliage to thick to search through, but after what feels like a few hours of walking, some tense small talk where you find out that the man who so easily threatened your life was named Ezra.

In a show of good faith, you tell him your own.

He’ll be dead by the end of this either way, either by your hands or the blade of your knife after you use him to get what you need—he wouldn’t see it coming, not a chance.

And he’s older too, lingering somewhere near his early early 40s from the way he talks. He’s weathered and callous around the edges and he’s seen things, you can assess that much. 

He asks your age but it’s quickly snuffed out by a, “Doesn’t matter,” still, it’s obvious you’re younger and a little more naive in your brevity and willingness to risk your life on a whim.

You stumble upon the cave after the sun has set, the sky a hazy purple that creates a soft glow over your skin and you lead into the cave with little trepidation, amazed by the sight before you. 

“God, these are beautiful,” You spoke candidly, examine the tight cracks in the rock that were lined with an interconnecting of vines, an ecosystem growing inside this dark, dwelling cave and acting as a beacon of light as it thrummed alive, glowing bright before dimming gradually in a continuous manner, “you were scared of this?”

“Something lives here, comes out at night when the sky is black and makes the ground shake,” Ezra warns, careful to linger back toward the entrance, “we don’t have much time.”

“My—these are bioluminescent, right?” The flower glowing in your hand as you touch it, dragging a delicate finger along the spine of the stem, “I’ve only read about them, some of these carry healing properties. I should take a few, could make good profit from them.”

Your greediness tells you to harvest, keep some for yourself, but Ezra is on you in a flash, grabbing your wrist as the flower puffs to life, startling you as it expands.

“Get back!” He shouts, “Those aren’t—“

But, it’s too late. A puff of glowing powder filtrates the air and into your face, sucking in an involuntary breath as it nearly suffocates you, pushing you back onto your ass.

Ezra scrambles, wiping your face with a delicate touch despite his worried expression before he’s gripping your wrist and yanking you back toward the entrance.

“What the hell—what was that?” You ask raggedly, wiping your face of whatever substance had spewed itself at you.

“Only ones I’ve heard of are poison,” Ezra admits, “Paralyzing agents, slow killers, nothin’ good.”

You follow him blindly, a hand tugging on your suit as he drags you along, hearing the faint shake of the mulch underneath your feet and you both tense, a shared look of worry.

“Little bird,” Ezra tugs you hard, hoping his urgency is conveyed in his eyes as he locks onto you, “we’re not makin’ it back to your pod I’m afraid.”

The shaking grows stronger, paired with a low rumble that has you both stumbling to the ground, body jolting at the touch of his fingertips against your neck where he catches you, hands planted into his chest as you plant yourself above him.

“I know I’m not one to trust,” Ezra admits, “But, I’ve got a tent a few meters east, it might keep us safe ‘til daylight.”

You quickly shove his hand away, the touch burning your skin in an unpleasant way, a weird feeling coiling in your stomach.

“Might?” You seethe, eyes growing comically wide at his unsureness. 

“I told you comin’ this way was a bad idea, you chose not to listen,” Ezra ignores the distaste for his touch as you wretch his hand away, “it’s up to you—run back to your pod and hope you make it or we can saddle in at my camp.”

You’re logical enough to know there’s only one choice.

Self-preservation.

You let him guide you upright before immediately separating yourself, following his quick footsteps as he led you back toward his sanctuary.

The difference in you, Ezra notices, is night and day.

Your eyes are scanning around frantically as he reaches for the cover of the entrance, mindful of his touch as he guides you inside, realizing the severity of the things you had encountered in the cave.

He’s never seen it for himself, assuming most of it was a myth. Some of it is collected and concentrated into a small drug that’s used in the places that are higher-up, living more luxurious, the people overflowing with wealth that have nothing better to do than get high and fuck—it’s that simple, a sex drug.

But from the source, natural—there’s no telling the strength. Even him, though not in the direct pathway and mostly by touches transferred between you two, has him feeling a little perturbed, his skin feeling itchy underneath the suit, like he wants to crawl out of his body. 

The silence that settles inside the tent when you’re both seated, far apart and in the two separate bunks stationed on either side, the one full of his belongings shoved to the side as you sit, pulling at the collar of your suit desperately. It feels like you’re suffocating, drowning inside the suit while your skin breaks out in a sheen of sweat, eyes squeezed shut as you force out a shaky breath.

Ezra watched it all happen, pulling lazily at the fingers of his gloves before unzipping his own suit, kicking it to the side and leaving him in his normal undergarments; a fitted black sweater paired with some black slacks. 

You glance over briefly, confused by his calmness, confused by your sudden affinity to be out of this suit and near him, needing the feeling of something other than this thing pressed against your skin. He looks eerily normal like this, dressed in his day to day clothes. 

“I think I might know what’s ailing you, birdie.” Ezra admits, forearms resting on his knees where he’s bent them, feet planted on the ground in front of him, “can I ask how you’re feeling?”

“Fine,” You grumble, the poor lie slipping past your lips, “Just—need out of this suit.”

He nods, extending a hand that you quickly defer away, eyes growing wide, “No, don’t fucking touch me.”

“I won’t touch your skin,” Ezra assures you, “That’s what’s got you worried, right? Feels like you’re on fire?”

His description is perfect, somehow managing to convey what you’re feeling, desperately alone inside your mind with thoughts that shouldn’t be.

He shifts to move, walking with his knees until he’s by your side, hands held up in surrender until he’s close enough to you, undoing the bindings in your suit to let you free, letting them fall to the floor with a heavy klunk as you kick them away.

“What—what was it?” You know he knows. Or that he at least had some kind of notion, his eyes scanning you carefully. Despite the sudden coolness to your skin from the thin tank that you’re wearing, it feels like a heat is bubbling underneath the surface.

“I’ve only ever heard of these things elsewhere,” Ezra explains slowly, bouncing around the truth, “it’s a, uh—enhancement of sorts, a drug to most.”

“Ezra.” You grimace, pushing him toward the point. It’s the first time you use his name, acknowledge him, and it feels weird. He’s not used to hearing it, either.

“Sex pollen.” He drives it home, no more beating around the bush. “It’s why you feel like jumpin’ out of your skin, why you couldn’t stand my touch.”

“Fuck off,” You scoff out tiredly, a bitter laugh lingering in the back of your throat, “that stuff isn’t real.”

Ezra’s eyes narrow, pointedly on you as he examines your response to him coming near, extending his fingers out carefully, “Give me your wrist.”

You back away unknowingly, hiding your hand away and ignoring the insistent beating of your heart in your chest, the sound of your pulse in your ears, the slow churning in your gut now impossible to ignore.

“Don’t touch me,” You warn, “Is this how you approach strangers? Tell ‘em they’re high on a sex drug and hope they’ll believe you?”

He says your name softly, hand dropping to his side, seeming a little irritated himself, though less so than you. 

“I’m tellin’ you because whether you want to be or not, you’re stuck in this tent with me until sunrise.”

You scurry toward the corner of the bed, chest heaving through deep breaths, brow furrowing as you stare him down. 

“Keep to your side,” You tell him, “I don’t want you coming near me.”

Ezra backs away without argument—he may be something of a scoundrel, a murderer, but he never had any intention of hurting you. Not before, not now. He was good at playing it up, but he knew you saw through it.

“You’ve got about an hour,” Ezra tells you, “maybe less now, but eventually that fever is gonna affect your brain, just like any other sickness and you’ll be worse off than when you came here.”

“Are you some kind of doctor or something?” 

“You learn a thing or two in this line of work,” He pulls haphazardly at the suspenders held snug around his shoulders, letting them fall loose to his hips, “I’ve never encountered it like this until now.”

“And you—you don’t feel…off?” You ask carefully, a sudden urge to squeeze your thighs together and soothe the growing ache between your legs. 

“I didn’t inhale it like you, didn’t get as deep of a dose,” The contact with you initially was just enough to keep him on edge, the itch under his skin growing slowly, he felt it too—the need, “you sure you’re alright?”

It’s the first moment of vulnerability you have with him as you glance up through downturned eyes, hands gripping the thick, coarse material of your pants.

“It hurts,” You admit quietly, “like a—like an ache, almost. Are you sure it’s safe here?”

Ezra nods, “Believe it or not, I’m not interested in the business of killing you.”

Not anymore.

“Forgive me for not thinkin’ that’s true, considering you threatened my life the moment I stepped foot on this moon.”

Ezra shrugs, fiddling with his sleeve silently.

“You’re full of empty threats, aren’t you?” You patronize him, turning your back to him now, settling down on the bed in hopes to calm whatever feeling was spreading throughout your body. “Come near me and I’ll shove that knife into your chest, got it?”

“Sure,” He responds distantly, “sweet dreams, birdie.”

And he himself tries to settle in, allow himself a moment of rest, but just as he’s lingering on the edges of sleep he hears you rouse, letting out a small whimper of pain as you pull at your slacks in earnest, “God, it fucking hurts.”

Ezra rolls to his side, head propped up lazily in his hand as he speaks, “M’gonna be blunt with you—only thing that’s gonna help is sexual release.”

“Stop talking,” You groan, the sound of his voice a few feet away and at a much lower register, thick with exhaustion, “it’s not like I can just take care of it with you here.”

For Ezra, it’s more of an annoyance, the tingling underneath his skin, the filthy thoughts running through his mind despite himself—he’s not that type of person, never would be, but that sight of you, the curve of your body even in this light, it’s enough to keep the flame alive.

He can see you’re struggling, fighting away whatever you were feeling and denying it despite the horrible pain you were in. 

“Let me step out,” It’s not a solution to the problem, “I can give you the room.”

And really, you weren’t sure it would even help. There was a need for contact, even as you wrestle with the button of your slacks and press your hands flat against your stomach in an effort to ease the ache, it’s not as satisfying. 

It makes you feel rabid, wiping the thin layer of sweat from your cheeks as you take a chance to look at Ezra when you turn on your back—he seems relaxed, aside from the insistent fidgeting of his fingers against one another, clenching and unclenching his fist every so often.

“Be honest with me,” You plead, “you’ve seen this before?”

“Only heard things,” He admits, eyes dragging toward the flickering light placed between you on the central beam supporting the tent—he’s talking to you, but he seems distant, far away, “it’s meant as an aid for—you know—“

You feel the impending but coming.

“But, like this—I don’t know much.” Ezra breathes out a deep breath, adjusting the slowly growing tightness against the front of his pants. “Even a small dose like that can be hell.”

You sigh shakily, fingers drifting until they’re only a few centimeters under your waistband, noticing his subtle attempt to adjust himself.

“Are you—do you feel it?” You ask softly, hanging by a thread. “I didn’t think you inhaled it like me.”

Ezra clears his throat, trying to respect your boundaries by not openly grinding up into his own hand—he was a bad man some days, but he wasn’t a savage. 

“Just being near you,” He assumes, “it absorbs into your skin or something like that and by touchin’ you I got a smaller dose. You’re hurting somethin’ bad, aren’t you?”

You nod jerkily, earlier disgruntled emotions toward the man forgotten. He’s proven to not be as big of a threat as he posed and he’s almost friendly now, keeping his distance and trying not to scare you. It wasn’t like you couldn’t handle yourself, but you hated how easily your thoughts betrayed you. You wanted someone near, didn’t matter who—you both just had the misfortune of being stuck together in a situation like this, dancing around the obvious. 

“Maybe—“ You sigh softly, eyes roving his body for a moment, “if we just take care of it ourselves, just close our eyes and no one’s gotta leave?”

“I don’t think—“

You’re impatient, fed up, fingers dip until they meet your core, drenched in the sweet slick of yourself and painful to the touch, a moan blossoming in your chest involuntarily.

“Little bird, I am not so sure that—“

“Shut up,” You sigh heavily, rubbing insistently at your clit for relief, constricted by the stiff waistband of your pants as you flex your fingers to fit inside you, “just do it, get it over with so we can get some sleep and leave this place come—come morning.”

He knows you don’t mean what you’re implying; the off-chance you might take him with you after being abandoned, he’s not that lucky, he never was. 

You gasp when your fingers breach your center, pressing beyond your tight opening and Ezra can feel the noises rattling him to his core.

“If I wanted to be treated like a lady I wouldn’t be doing this—in front of you, right now.” Ezra actually laughs at that, a small chuckle the rumbles from his chest. “Don’t worry, I won’t look.”

It’s the coyness in your voice that does him in, his hips rutting up into his palm slowly before he’s breaking that seal, assuming a similar position and hastily shoving his hands down his trousers, grinding down on his teeth to muffle the sound that escapes him when he feels the first touch, feeling everything more intensely now that he had given in.

“Better?” You ask curiously, voice still tight and ragged, the ache that was once dull was throbbing at your core and up your spin, growing the more your fingers dragging along your slit and over the small bundle of nerves.

It wasn’t enough. Didn’t feel like enough. Part of you knew that one simple orgasm by your hand wouldn’t solve this, but you remained naive, breath quickening as you shoved your pants down further, hastily, kicking them off the rest of the way.

Ezra hums a lousy response from your right, the soft shift of fabric against fabric, his movements quickening as he finds a rhythm, hand tightening around his shaft at the awkward angle he was forcing himself into with his cock still stuffed inside his pants. 

Honesty would be good, right? Right now? 

You let out an exasperated growl as you scramble upright, head hanging back between your shoulders.

“This isn’t fucking working,” You admit, “It doesn’t even feel good it just hurts.”

And the emphasis on the word is prevalent as you chance a look over at Ezra, his hand stilled underneath his clothes but his eyes wide, a little comical as he takes in the sight of you now, bottom half bare and visible under this light, the smallest sliver of your stomach peeking through your top that had ridden up.

So much for keeping eyes closed.

“I—“ Ezra stops himself, face scrunching up with a dilemma, “what are you thinking?”

“I’m not,” It felt like your body was working on autopilot, shifting your body to face him, “I need—god, I need more. Do you think, maybe—“

“Yeah,” Ezra answers immediately, already matching your thought as you scramble the short distance toward him, his palm pressing gently against your chest, “holy—birdie, your heart is racing.”

You nod absently, shifting his hand down abruptly to cover you cunt, a needy whine escaping your throat at the touch. 

“I don’t have time to— talk this through,” It’s disjointed, voice airy as you speak to him, “help me, please?”

He’s never been more unprepared and unequipped for a situation in his life, falling privy to your motions as you grind against the heel of his palm, feeling his fingers explore cautiously. 

“Whatever you need,” He agrees, nodding insistently as he winds his free hand around your waist, guiding you over his lap in a movement that has one of his fingers pushing past your entrance, fist clenching into his shirt tight, “tell me—tell me.”

He sounds wrecked, beside himself, feeling guilty for the circumstance and regretting having taken the risk to talk to you, letting his ego get the best of him. He would’ve never been in this situation, never have met you.

And somehow, you still feel empty, eyes brimming with tears at the discomfort, the neediness you feel across your entire body, the desire to be taken over and consumed by him—there’s a brief moment where you lock eyes with him, almost like a transfer of energy as he feels your pain.

The contact somehow managed to make things worse for him, or more equal on your level as his opposite hand grips tight on your hip, fingers working dutifully to keep you full as his head hangs, working with the little friction he received from his cock being trapped underneath the tight fabric as he followed your movements, pushing in when you pulled away, a messy dance of limbs as you clawed at each other.

“More,” You cry softly, “give me more.”

“Little bird,” He says as a warn, though his voice is nothing but comfort, “you don’t have a clue what you’re asking of me.”

You nod frantically, “I do, I do.” 

His eyes pull to your lips, mouth hung slightly open as you gasp, feeling like you’ve been running for miles without doing any of the actual work, a type of primal desperation you’ve never felt before. 

“We don’t have to—“ You squeeze your eyes shut, voice strained, “maybe if we just—“

Ezra understands without you asking, shifting his pants down hastily with you over him, briefs follow with before he’s just as bare from the waist down, kicking his clothes away mindlessly as you settle down against him without warning, the suffocating heat of your core drawing his attention back to you.

“You’re burnin’ up,” He notices, hands settling gently against your waist as he feels the hesitant tilt of your hips on the first drag, a deep sigh combining between you both, “does that—does that help?”

“Shh, shh,” You hush him kindly, hoping that focusing on the sensation and rather his voice—which was driving you equally as mad by how wrecked he sounded—would help, but it soon dawns on you that there’s only one way to satiate the ache, pushing at his chest until he understands, a slow fumble back onto his elbows as you grind against him more insistently, the excessive wetness of your core soaking him at the base, his grip against your hips tightening with every passing second as a groan creeps from his throat, paired with your own shaky sigh, “I can’t—can’t focus.”

Ezra feels partly to blame, too lost in his own head to realize the severity of the stage you’re in—most coherent thinking nearly gone and replaced with nothing but this, him, an eagerness to dull the painful ache in your body and by association, his own. 

The lewd thoughts intensify with every pass of your center along his shaft, the head of his cock rubbing against your clit in an almost satisfying way, but there’s an emptiness that’s keeping you stuck, dangling over the edge.

You need him inside of you—want, as does he. He’s been picturing it since he saw your fingers dip past your core, since the strength of the pollen invaded his body and filled his mind with involuntary thoughts.

“Ezra,” You sound broken, tears having slipped down your cheek through the haze, “I need you.”

Ezra nods understandingly, his hand creeping up to cradle the side of your neck, your head lolling lazily into the touch, “I told you, little bird. Just tell me. Tell me what you need.”

“Want you inside,” You admit on a pathetic whimper, fingers slowly clawing up his clothed chest, fisting in the fabric as you move more insistently, “Ezra, please?”

In any other situation he would think this through, considering the consequences and ask you for reassurance, but he finds himself nodding before he can catch himself, guiding your hips up gently with his hand before you’re taking control and guiding the head of his cock to your center, seething him completely and to the hilt in one full motion, punching a strangled groan from his chest.

Ezra falls back fully with the force of your grip, huffing roughly with every eager bounce of your hips, watching as your eyes roll back slightly, feeling a slow sense of relief with how easily he fits inside of you. 

If it weren’t for the thick layer of his sweater you would’ve broken skin by how hard your grip was on him, his own grasp teetering on painful but dulled by how badly you needed to cum, or feel any type of release for that matter.

There’s a soft repeated mumble of “please, please, please,” falling from your lips that doesn’t stop, not entirely sure what you’re asking for but Ezra soothes a comforting hand up your waist and over your shoulder as he watches you, slowly losing yourself to the sensation of being filled so fully.

“I’m right here,” He assures you, a faint echo in the back of your mind, “fuck—I’m right here.”

He soon feels suffocated by the thickness of his sweater, your body heat overwhelming him inside and out as he silently guides you up and quickly rids himself of the last bit of material he had left on his body, hastily helping you with your own when he sees your hand struggling to pull at the damp fabric.

But once he gets his eyes on you, taking in the rawness of you, all desperation and mindless need as your breasts bounce softly with your movements, squeezed tight between your arms from where they’re planted against his chest and all Ezra can think is touch.

He wants to touch you—and like you’re thinking on the same wavelength, bodies interconnected and driven by one thing, lust—so, you ask. Or more accurately, beg,

“Stop thinking,” You tell him, “touch me, it’s okay.”

Ezra feels pained by your response, your own voice riddled with the tears that kept falling, though the obvious lack of sadness behind them. He nods, lifting a hand to knead the soft flesh between his fingertips, your muscles clenching around him involuntarily and pulling a moan out of you that he mimics with the same fervor. 

“Sweet jesus,” He speaks candidly, “you feel—“ Ezra doesn’t even have the words, landing on something that flashes through his mind quickly, “perfect, fuckin’ perfect.”

And Ezra can feel the intensity build as your hips falter, the brazen sound of skin slapping against skin slowing to a slow grind as you squeeze your brow line together, panting slightly.

“I got you,” He reminds you softly, slumping into him tiredly as he lifts his frame, flipping you over swiftly but carefully, settling your legs around his hips with a gentle touch, barricading you in with the taut muscle of his forearms, his hips moving slowly inside you still, “just focus, you gotta let go, birdie—only way you’ll get any relief.” 

You nod instinctively, vision increasingly hazy as you pull him in closer, his mouth connecting with your shoulder in a wet press of his lips—not quite a kiss, but not subtle enough to be a touch and without even asking, he’s fixing a hand over your cunt alongside his cock from where he’s working you to a near point of something similar to an out of body experience, like you might finally lose your mind.

His touches are tender but pointed, his own moans increasingly debauched as he rubs your clit in messy circles, the wet squelch of you and him as you move together driving you closer to the edge, the intense tingling along your spine growing to the point of near unbearable, body shaking under his touch as he slips his other hand behind your neck, lifting your chin up as you gasp, clenching down hard as you came, body taking on a mind of its own.

The feeling is so intense you feel like passing out, spotting in your vision as you drift away for a moment, whimpering softly against his touch as the intense feelings you’ve been having dull for a moment, the torture of your body betraying yourself gone for now but still lingering dangerously close in the shadows.

“Fuck, fuck—” You hear his voice muffled over the ringing in your ears, staring blankly at the ceiling of the tent while your heart rate calms, your name falling from his lips like a warning as he feels that pull, low in his groin, shifting away hastily to work a quick, feverish hand over his shaft and spilling over your stomach in warm pulses, face slack with pleasure, eyes closed and drifting into a familiar feeling of exhaustion. 

“I think–I think it’s over,” You mumble softly, fingertips dragging gently against his thighs, a contrast to the earlier hard grip you had on him as he drove you toward your orgasm, “Are you okay?”

Ezra shakes his head in disbelief, leaning back on his legs.

“For the moment,” He thinks briefly before nodding, noticing the worry in your face, corners of your mouth downturned in frustration, “—are you?”

And you would be, but even now as the exhaustion creeped in, that gnawing sensation was still lingering, leaving you wondering if this would last forever until you ended up dying some miserable death on this moon.

Ezra moves around slowly, reaching for one of the bags stowed away on the spare bed you were using prior and finding some sloppily cut cloth, he notices your weariness, “Just something to…” He gestures toward the mess of him on your stomach still, something you hadn’t really noticed until he pointed it out, his gentle assurance a comfort to you, “was usin’ them to keep clean when workin’ on my pod but…no pod, no reason to keep hoarding them.”

He leans back between your legs, cleaning you up without a word, silent as he drags the soft cotton over your stomach with a tenderness that shouldn’t make you feel that way. You barely know him and you’ll blame it on the ridiculous sex pollen filtering through your bloodstream, but he looks more docile now, like you might scare him if you move the wrong way.

He’s just as terrified as you.

“Ezra,” You call out softly, grabbing his attention, “can I be honest with you?”

“I would appreciate it, yeah,” He responds with a faint smile, “seein’ as the situation we’re in.”

“I don’t,” You blow out a tired huff through your lips, hands pushing away the wet, sticky hair from your face, “—it’s still there. Is that–normal?”

“Uh,” Ezra pauses, thinking, “I mean, I’ve heard a few hours, sometimes even a day. But, it should fade now, since you were able to—”

He couldn’t bring himself to say the words with your eyes staring him down so intensely. 

You wouldn’t be able to sleep like this, the impending exhaustion come sunrise would make it nearly impossible to get home, thinking back to how easily you could’ve turned around and left and never put yourself in this situation. Choices, decisions, nothing good ever came from haste thinking.

“If–if it doesn’t?” You ask softly, suddenly feeling scared of the unknown.

“It will,” He responds calmly, nodding, “but how long…there’s no tellin’.”

An eerie silence settles between you two, aside the gentle hum coming from outside of the tent, a distant worry now–most places you were taught to be scared of the people you might come across, but here, inside this tent, you couldn’t feel more safe.

“Forgive me for being so forward but–it’s safe here, at least for a day or two. I’ve got the food, the water. We can wait things out until morning, little bird.”

You huff a soft laugh through your nose, moving your legs around him gently to one side as he adjust himself, draping the blanket shoved near the end of the bed over his lap and carefully covering your own.

“What would you have done if you never saw me?” You ask curiously, “Your people abandoned you, only a few days of supplies, do I want to know why you were stranded here?”

Ezra shakes his head simply, that answer being enough for you to gloss over the topic.

“So, is this the part where you ask to come with me?” Ezra’s shoulders shake in a silent laugh, hanging his head as he looks away, “What a fuckin’ day this has been.”

“You don’t have to drag me along,” He tells you, “doesn’t feel right askin’. But, since we’re stuck here for a bit, least until this shit wears off–”

He feels the sensation burrowing in the base of his spine too, the release of endorphins allowing you both a moment of calm before it ramped up again, undoubtedly. And there’s a sudden urge from you to touch him, stopping his palm over your stomach as his fingertips feel the material of the blanket.

“I can be convinced,” You tell him, eyes softening under his gaze, “It’s all I do for a living, bartering, trading–you’ve proven pretty useful, anyways.”

Ezra smiles at your indication, thumb rubbing along the back of your hand and reminding you that this wasn’t near over yet, his touch leaving a dull burn in its wake. 

“Keep the pain away and I’ll give you a free ride,” You promise him, “no tricks, I swear.”

“Another one?” Ezra says jokingly, finding the smile that breaks out on your face a clear indication that it wasn’t too much of an overstep, adding a little light to the situation, “I’m honored.”

And even if it did takes hours for the pollen to leave your system, a few tiring orgasms later shared between you both in a very heated, messy exchange of bodies rubbing against each other or his head buried between your legs, there’s a clear indication to never come back here, leave this behind you, and try not to be hung up on the man you met on this moon as he parts ways with you not soon after you arrive back home. But, there’s a reassurance in his words as he leaves you, leaning against the open door of your pod as you restock for your next journey.

“Can’t keep myself in one place too long,” He says regretfully, “but I know where to find you.”

“Don’t get yourself killed out there.”

Ezra laughs at that, full-body and amused.

“Not a chance, little bird.”

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

[acaciusbride]

Heat (Ezra x F!Reader)

Summary: mutual attraction and a pair of sinfully tight sweatpants lead to more than you or Ezra could have expected. (There’s no plot, it’s just smut).

CWs: Spitting / slapping / mutual pining / cumplay / unsafe PIV sex / absolutely filthy talk / oral sex (f receiving) / praise kink / f masturbation / implied squirting /

Masterlist

For @miller--trash & @serenaxpedro ❤️

You’re starting to think you’re losing your mind, or at the very least getting close to it. This was meant to be a simple expedition, dangerous or not. Drop in, spend a month prospecting, drop out again, hopefully get rich enough to never have to return to The Green.

Getting a big stupid crush on your companion wasn’t meant to be part of the plan, but then Ezra had come along with his stupid drawl, broad frame, and that stupidly attractive smirk. 

Everything about him pisses you off, but that’s less to do with him and more to do with how increasingly needy you are where he’s concerned. 

Is it just you, or is he taunting you? You feel as if he’s more than aware of your interest, using it against you in a subtle way. 

Like right now, for instance. He's taken to coming out the sanitiser still half damp, hair sticking to the nape of his neck, no shirt in sight, barefoot. That would probably be easy enough for you to ignore, and you had, quite successfully, for some time, until he'd found the damn sweatpants.

Dark grey in colour, they leave absolutely nothing to the imagination. You wish you were exaggerating, but you can see absolutely everything outlined in those sweats. Every thick, slightly curved inch.

Honestly, the damn things are obscene, and if you were on any sort of civilised planet, he’d probably get fined for public indecency. But you’re not on a civilised planet. The Green is lawless territory, and anything goes.

You wish you could remember that a little more often, or useful facts from the prospecting guide, but instead you have the outline of your companion’s arguably sizeable cock imprinted firmly into your brain. Great.

You have to force your expression to remain neutral. Force your eyes to move past him, look at anything else, because god knows you’ve already been looking too long. Long enough for that slow, lazy smirk to creep into his features as he leans against the closest countertop, watching you.

Why the fuck is the lander so small? Or maybe he’s just big and imposing. Who cares. You flop down in your bunk, try to return your attention to your book, but honestly? The prospecting manual isn’t exactly a riveting read at the best of times.

Still, it must work to take some of the heat off you, because he stops slouching against the bench, practically saunters across the small space, hauls himself up the short ladder to the top bunk, and stays there.

You don’t like heights. Not even bunkbeds. Almost ironically, you’re starting to wonder if sleeping on the bunk below his is as close to getting beneath him as you’ll ever get.

Your cheeks heat at the thought.

The lights in the lander go out at a touch of the control panel set beside the bunk, leaving only the faint glow of the emergency lighting, the sign that the security system and the air filters are still running at full capacity.

You could still read by overhead lamp, but it’s easier to put the book aside and pretend to be asleep. It’s only when you hear Ezra’s breathing become more steady and lazy that you dare to move again.

It’s embarrassing, honestly, the way you’re dancing around the subject. Reduced to getting yourself off in the sanitiser or in your bunk, trying to keep yourself quiet.

You’re almost certain you’ve heard him do the same once or twice, but you’ve been genuinely half asleep and unable to tell if you were hearing what you wanted to hear.

The thought of him wrapping one of those big, scarred hands around his cock, stroking himself slowly, trying to muffle any sound, is enough to make you soak your panties. His hands are big enough. You’d probably need to use both.

The idea of sleep is now the furthest thing from your mind, the ache between your thighs far more pressing and needy than anything else. Carefully, trying not to make too much noise, you tug your panties down, kick them off under the blanket that’s suddenly too hot.

Your shirt comes off too, tucked up by your pillow. It’s a lot more comfortable this way, naked under the blanket, your hands wandering across your body. In the dark it’s easier to imagine the hands are his, even if they are far too small to realistically be so.

You dip a single finger into your soaked core, spread your own slick across bare skin as your other hand slips upwards, cups a bare breast, fingers pinching a sensitive nipple into a hardened bud.

It’s not enough; you add a second finger, consider the thought somewhere in the back of your mind that his hands are so big, you’d probably need to fit three or four of your own fingers inside yourself to take two of his.

The thought makes your cunt clench around your exploring fingers, a soft whimper almost escaping before you bite down - hard - on your bottom lip to keep it trapped.

Not trusting yourself to keep quiet enough, you release your nipple, cover your mouth with your hand as you start to rock slowly onto your own fingers, chasing release, mind foggy, nothing mattering in the moment more than the feeling of pleasure beginning to overwhelm you as you imagine him inside you…

“I can hear that undoubtedly sweet pussy singing for me from up here.” His drawl interrupts your fogged, hazy mind; you almost sit bolt upright, almost jump, but instead you freeze.

“Don’t stop on my account… unless of course you’d be more acquiescent to the idea of my assistance.”

You’re used to the way he speaks, like something from an old world poetry book. Even in the fog of your brain, you understand what he’s saying. What he’s offering.

“Get the fuck down here.” Your response is far less eloquent, but then again he’s the one with the words.

You swear to god you hear the smug bastard laugh as he rolls out of his own bunk, slides down the ladder.

“Normally I’d make certain you knew I disapproved of your uncouth manner of speaking, but… in this case? I suppose it can be forgiven.” He shrugs in the dim light; you can see the smirk on his face as he leans against the bunk frame, watching you.

“You gonna just stand there and watch? I thought you offered assistance.”

You don’t even care how needy you sound; he’s caught you completely off guard, your fingers still soaked with your own slick, desperate and hormonal and definitely not thinking with your brain.

“Patience is a virtue, sweet girl.” Still, he obliges you, tugs down those sinfully tight sweatpants, leaving him entirely bare to your hungry gaze.

Fuck.

The outline may have been impressive, but it’s nothing compared to actually seeing him. He’s big and broad, carries himself with a sort of easy swagger, but even that doesn’t prepare you for how fucking perfect his cock looks. Just as thick as you’d expected, big and slightly curved, soft curls framing that and a pair of heavy balls that you want, desperately, in your mouth.

“Please… get over here… right now.” You remember your manners this time, even if your mouth is watering and your pussy dripping at the sight of him.

Maybe asking nicely does something to him, because he doesn’t taunt you this time, just peels back the blanket, dark eyes taking in your naked form before he crawls on top of you, leans in to devour your mouth in a hungry kiss.

You cling to him, hook one leg around his waist to keep him there as your fingers drag up his back, across broad shoulders. His tongue plunders your needy mouth in such a way that leaves no room to doubt that he wants this, wants you, just as badly as you want him.

You can feel him pressing against your thigh, the hot, heavy weight of him, and your pussy clenches around nothing yet again at the thought of him inside you.

“Now, what were you doing down here?” He breaks the kiss to ask, one hand crawling down your torso, cupping your drenched pussy lightly.

“Ez, please…” you’re so fucking needy for him, want him inside you so badly it aches, uncaring if he’s too big to take.

“Patience, dove, it’s not my intention to hurt you. When I have you screaming, I want it to be purely in pleasure.”

Then he moves, effortless, so your thighs are resting on his shoulders, his face so close to your cunt that you can feel the heat of his breath on your skin.

“I heard you, of course, but I know I can do an undoubtedly superior job… all you have to do is sing for me, sweet dove.”

Then he leans in close, spits on your cunt, and traces a lazy pattern on your clit with the tip of his tongue, uncaring of the mess he’s making, what with his own spit and your slick coating his tongue, your thighs, the sheets.

“As sweet as nectar, just as I suspected.” He half murmurs it against your skin, slides his tongue inside you and moans, completely without shame at the taste of you, at the way your smaller hands fist into his hair as you grind yourself against his mouth.

He pulls away from you, drawing a disappointed whine from your lips.

“So needy,” he sounds half amused, half aroused; you can’t see, of course, not in this position, but his cock is aching and throbbing against the sheets of your bunk, leaking pre cum into the fabric.

“Ez…”

He lays a soft slap to your overstimulated pussy, drawing a sharp gasp from you.

“Patience.” He leans in and kisses where he slapped, traces his tongue around your clit before sucking it greedily into his mouth, releasing it with a lewd sound before delving his tongue back inside you.

He’s about to become the worlds’ biggest hypocrite, and he damn well knows it, because the more he licks and sucks at your cunt, the more desperate he is to just fuck you. Especially when you start whimpering, practically convulsing beneath him with the force of your climax.

He doesn’t even bother wiping his mouth, uncaring that your slick is dripping off his tongue, into his short beard, coating his moustache.

Moves instead so his forehead is pressed to yours, one big hand cupping your breast as you recover.

“Tell me, dove, have you had enough? Or do you require more assistance? I’d be more than happy to oblige you in whatever you wish for, although arguably I’d be more in favour of you begging me to feed that sinfully sweet cunt my cock.”

A kiss to your lips before he continues, rolling a pebbled nipple between thumb and forefinger.

“I just know you can take me, can just imagine how well those soft, sweet walls will envelope me. Tell me, sweet girl. Tell me that you want it.”

Your brain is so fucking hazy from your climax, from his words, but you’re greedy. Greedy and desperate and you want more. Want him to feed your tight little pussy every bruising inch of his cock, satisfy the desire and need for him that’s been building, neglected, for far too long.

“Please, Ez, I need it… need all of you…”

He keeps his forehead pressed to yours as he releases your breast, keeps himself propped up on one arm, uses his free hand to position your leg how he wants you, before wrapping that same hand around his cock, the tip and underside coated with his own pre release. He strokes himself slowly, thumb caressing the thick vein in the underside of his length, repressing a slight shudder at how sensitive he is already.

He’s halfway to guiding himself to your cunt when your much smaller hand reaches down and starts to caress his balls, soft little touches that draw a groan from him. He doesn’t even bother trying to repress that sound, moans softly as you touch him, guides himself to your heat and sinks inside.

You moan the moment he slides inside you, panting the second he sinks the first inch of a considerable amount into you. Your hand abandons its caressing of his balls, flies to his back to brace yourself instead.

“Slowly now, dove,” he’s trying to be somewhat careful, as close to gentlemanly as he’s capable of being; knows he’s big, doesn’t want to hurt you.

You have other ideas.

“No, not slowly.” You demand, arching up against him, wrapping your thigh around his waist to try and get him in deeper. “Need all of you, need it so bad…”

Ezra is not a man known for his patience, more given to fits of impulse, and it’s that side of him that wins out as he presses deep into you in a single fluid movement, slamming his hips flush against yours.

Oh, but the sound you make, makes it worth losing the prospect of savouring the moment, taking his time filling you up. The way you scream for him, nails clawing sharp lines up his back, leaving little crescent shapes in his shoulders.

He can feel you tighten and pulse around him, cock throbbing and aching in response. He wants to say something, anything, something poetic, but you beat him to it, in your far less eloquent manner.

“Fuck, Ez, you feel so fucking good…”

He likes the shortened version of his name on your lips, even more so when you sigh it like that.

“Do I, sweet girl?”

Fuck, he loves hearing you praise him, praising his cock, feeling you soak him, the way you claw at him.

“So good,” you repeat, leaning up to kiss him as he starts to move, slow, teasing little thrusts that make you whimper.

“Tell me you love my cock, dove,” he moans as you tighten around him again, tight little pussy barely able to take him, and yet…

“I do,” you babble as he starts to move properly, slow, lazy, deep thrusts that brush your cervix and make you gasp in pleasure. “Fucking love your cock, Ez, need you inside me, needed you for so long.”

It’s enough, more than enough, to short circuit his brain; nothing matters anymore but the heat of your smaller body beneath his, the way you arch up against him, moaning and mewling and babbling praise to him that only serves as fuel for the fire burning inside him.

It feels like simultaneously no time at all and an eternity have passed before you’re convulsing beneath him again, lips parted in a desperate, broken moan as you soak his cock, giving him better friction to drag himself out of you, slam back in.

His stamina is moderately impressive, but he’s not going to last, not like this, not when you’re so perfect for him, one hand clawing at his back, the other fisted into the sheets.

“Better tell me where you want me, little dove,” he breathes it into your ear, “or I might just be inclined to plant my seed in this sweet cunt and claim you forever.”

You whimper, lock your legs around his waist, make him smirk in satisfaction.

“Oh, you’d like that?”

You moan your affirmation, pussy tightening and throbbing around him at the very thought, the idea of him filling you with endless ropes of his seed…

“I did say I was happy to oblige your every wish,” he nuzzles his face into your shoulder, leaves a soft bite to sensitive skin before he pulls himself into a mostly sitting position, both hands on your waist, dragging your smaller body onto his cock again and again, using you for his own pleasure until he feels his balls tighten, cock aching as he finds his release, spilling endless heat of his cum into your waiting, needy cunt.

You whimper, wriggle beneath him, desperate to keep every drop he’s given you inside. He stays there, looking down at you with something like feverish adoration, until he feels himself start to soften inside you, pulls out of you, watches some of his spend drop from your swollen cunt onto the sheets.

“What a waste…” he murmurs it almost to himself, before he moves down between your thighs again, fingers catching what’s dripped out and pressing it back inside.

“Ez?”

“Hm?”

“What’re you doing?” Your voice is thick with fatigue, and yet lust still hangs heavy from every word.

“I want to test the hypothesis that our tastes combined are sweeter than any possible drug I’ve had the fortune to sample in my time.”

You blush as you realise what he intends to do, his hands already spreading your thighs as he leans in to taste himself inside of you.

It’s going to be a very, very long night, and you’re going to love every last moment of it.

[aurorawritestoescape]

The Beast Within

Pairing: Dark!Ezra x f!reader

Genre: smut

Tw (dead dove): 18+, mdni, noncon but reader wants him and is ok with it, somnophilia, oral (f and m receiving), squirting, cum eating, tiny bit of ass play, Ezra is rough, overstimulation, pet names.

Summary: trekking the Green with his new partner, Ezra is overtaken by his need to have you. While you sleep in the camping tent, the animal within Ezra pushes him to act on his desires. Little does he know, you’ve wanted him as well.

Word count: 2k

A/n: filthy smut and nothing else. just needed to let it out after watching Prospect for the first time. Hope you enjoy<3

——————————————————————————

Ezra wanted you the minute he heard it—your heavy panting in his ear coming through his headset shot straight to his cock. You two were new partners and had been trekking the Green for two days at that point, searching for Aurelac gems. You needed to get to the camping tent before it got dark, so you had to move faster. The warmth of your suit and non-stop walking made you overheat, and you were breathing hard. So as soon as he heard those pretty noises of yours, he knew that he was fucked.  From time to time, he adjusted himself as well as he could, which was difficult in the suit, but even that was making matters worse, as any touch to his cock made it ache with need. 

You were very pretty—beautiful, in fact—but your breathing right into his ear was a nail in his coffin. A couple of times, still walking forward, Ezra shut his eyes for a moment to imagine you riding his cock. Your accompaniment made it so real in his mind. At one point, you stumbled over a tree root, and your sudden breathy “Fuck!” almost made him come in his pants. The familiar animal within him had woken up and wanted you, and Ezra knew pretty well that it couldn’t be stopped. He had to get his release. 

Finally, you two got to the tent and took off your heavy suits, bulky helmets, and headsets.  Ezra didn’t hear your breaths as intensely as before, yet the desire had already nestled deep in his abdomen, making his cock strain in the confines of his sweatpants. Ezra and you ate and climbed on the bunks opposite each other. Exhausted from the journey, you immediately fell asleep. Ezra wasn’t that lucky. The images of your naked form huffing and puffing under him were flooding his mind. 

He was about to get off in secret next to his sleeping partner, but then you sighed quietly in your sleep and turned on your side, facing him. In the dark, the contour of your slightly opened lips sent electricity to his member, and in his torturous mind, he saw those lips around his throbbing cock. The beast in him took over in a flash and sprang into action. He wasn’t a good man. 

Ezra was standing in front of your sleeping body with his weeping cock in hand, just inches from your face. The human in him, albeit overtaken by the predator, questioned his actions, asking, “What the fuck are you doing?” The animal didn’t answer. He nudged your mouth with his cock and traced it with the tip. In the almost-dark he could see the precum glistening on your lips, and his whole body shivered. Ezra carefully slid his cock between your teeth, opening you up more, and a slight pain added to his pleasure. Your tongue was soft and hot, and it felt like heaven. He dropped his head back and moaned silently. He was gentle not to wake you, and when you moved your arm a little, he froze, still holding the tip in your mouth. The gods sent him a gift then. Without waking up, you glided your tongue around his bulbous head like you were dreaming about the tastiest lollipop. But the gift quickly turned into a curse as his cock twitched and a little amount of precum spilled on your tongue. That jerk, plus a salty taste, sent a signal to your brain to awaken. He saw the whites of your eyes in the dark and pulled out hastily. But you could still see him standing there with his cock out in the open. 

“What... what are you doing?” you asked quietly, and your innocent tone crushed him. There was no anger, no fear, just confusion in your raspy voice. 

Ezra dropped to his knees, sweatpants around his ankles, and cock rock hard, and took your face between his big hands. There were tears in his eyes. 

“I’m so sorry, dear. Please forgive my horrid actions; I was overpowered by the desire in my obsidian soul. I’m weak for you. So weak.” He put his head on your chest, and you could feel wetness on your skin. 

Feeling a surge of sympathy, you lifted his head and looked into his puppy eyes. You saw the need and desire there, and your body quickly mirrored them. 

The days you spent together added attraction to your partnership; something raw and carnal was growing in your gut, making you blush and tremble at every sweet nickname he gave you. Throughout your trek, you saw him glancing at you with his dark eyes, and the tingling sensation in your cunt morphed into a constant ache. You weren’t sure if he would reciprocate, but after getting rid of your suits, you saw the tent in his sweatpants and got excited. However, the exhaustion took over, and you could think of nothing else but sleep. 

After waking up and finding him consumed with desire for you, to the extent that he would take your unconscious body, the warmth in your abdomen swelled and bloomed. The taste of him on your tongue made your mouth salivate. 

“Give it to me,” you asked quietly. He furrowed his brows and stared at you with disbelief. You had to repeat yourself. “Give it to me, your cock. Fuck my mouth. I want it.”

His jaw dropped in disbelief. Still flabbergasted by your reaction to his crudeness, he was quick to oblige. He stood up and took his sweatpants off, keeping his wide and lustful eyes on you. You laid on your back, grabbed his thighs, and pulled him to yourself. Ezra obeyed and got on your bunk, placing his knees at your sides and positioning himself above your head. You lifted yourself on your elbows, reaching the hard cock in his hand. Looking up at him, you licked the tip and gave it a peck. A low rumble escaped Ezra’s chest. Then you enveloped his head with your lips and began swallowing him, swirling your tongue around. He was big, so you shifted  your weight on one elbow, spat on your hand, and grabbed the base of his cock. You began bobbing your head up and down, helping with your hand where you couldn’t reach it, and twisting it rhythmically. Ezra couldn’t take his eyes off you, breathing heavily and slightly moving his hips to meet your mouth. 

“My little deity. Gifting a brute like myself the warmth of your generous mouth,” his praise made you moan around his cock as your cunt clenched around nothing. You were drooling, and wet slurping sounds filled a small tent. It was hot inside, and his musk was making your head spin with desire and soaking through your underwear. The sweat on his thighs and stomach reflected dimmer light. 

His hand gently cupped the side of your moving head. Then his thumb brushed the corner of your mouth, collecting your drool, and he raised it to his lips to suck on it. He shut his eyes and dropped his head back. His breathing hitched, and a groan left his open mouth. Sensing that he was near the edge, you gently cupped his balls with your hand.  

“Oh, shit. Oh, shit,” he murmured and choked on his words. Still working his shaft, you saw his muscles tense, his eyes shut, and warm ropes of cum began painting the insides of your mouth. His spend was salty and bitter, and you didn’t stop sucking, mixing it with your saliva, and glazing his twitching cock with your liquids. Some of it was flowing down your throat, and you swallowed it, contracting around his tip and drawing more moans out of him. 

When Ezra stopped coming, he pulled out and saw you completely cock drunk—wet lips and chin, hazy eyes, and sweaty forehead. He quickly covered your body with his, and your back hit the bunk under you. His lips were on yours in a flash, his tongue breaching your lips and tasting his own seed in your whimpering mouth. Ezra’s realise didn’t calm the insatiable beast inside him as he continued groping, kneading, and rubbing your body and limbs. He was everywhere, as your hips shot up to meet his cock. He broke the kiss and looked into your eyes, rubbing your cheekbone with his thumb. 

“I’m tremendously grateful, my little deity. Let me repay my debt to you.” Something wild flashed in his eyes and scared you for a moment. Without waiting for your answer, Ezra sat up on his knees and peeled your sweatpants off, along with your underwear. Then he grabbed your thighs and yanked them up, placing them on his broad shoulders. You gasped, feeling cool air on your wet, naked cunt, fully exposed to his gaze. With your head on the pillow and your ass in the air, you looked up at him with widened eyes. Ezra scratched your soft inner thigh with his scruffy beard, leering at you with an animalistic grin. “Nice and tight,” he commented, and you blushed. 

He didn’t make you wait for long. His mouth darted to your core, and he began kissing your folds with vigour drawing mewls out of you. With one arm holding you up, he moved the other hand to spread your cheeks with his fingers, flattened his tongue, and licked a wet stripe from your tight ring of muscle to the slick entrance reaching your hardened clit. He sucked it in hungrily and then began rubbing and almost abusing your cunt with his tongue. The animal in him was rough and careless, and your pleasure suddenly turned into painful overstimulation. You whined and tried to reach for his forearm, which held you in place. “Hurts... too much,” you managed to mumble, and he stopped for a second, but then he sucked in  your clit between his teeth, nipped, and pulled it slightly. Tears glazed your eyes as you cried out in pain. It only made him chuckle. “Shhh… I shall kiss it better, sweetheart,” he cooed at you and returned his mouth back between your thighs. 

His skillful tongue began devouring your cunt again, but he was much gentler that time,  flicking and sucking your clit, rubbing your thighs with his calloused hands. He was eating you out like his life depended on it, slurping and swallowing your slick. You moaned  and he echoed you with a low groan vibrating through your core. “I feel your cunt beating for me; you are so close, my deity. Let’s finish it off.” With those words, he shook his head, making your lips slap, and your pleasure skyrocketed; you were dripping on him, your cream covering his beard and mustache. 

Soon you felt your walls contracting, and a wave of heat and ecstasy shot through your core. You cried out his name, gripping the covers and arching your back. Your legs were trembling, and your heart was beating fast. You gushed on his face, and he welcomed your juices, lapping up every last drop. Aftershocks were rippling through your body as Ezra was still holding you in place, resting his wet cheek on your inner thigh, taking in the sight of you unraveling because of him. 

When you stilled, he gently lowered your ass back on the bunk and laid down next to you. You were completely spent, the exhaustion of the day coming back in full force as Ezra had squeezed the last drop of your energy. He covered you both with a sheet and draped his heavy arm over your body. He nuzzled your cheek and whispered with a triumphant smile on his face, “As I was searching for treasure, I seemed to be blindly walking alongside it all that time.” You chuckled at his elevated conclusion of the filthy sex the two of you just had. He wasn’t fazed by your reaction and continued cuddling you. “Sleep, sweetheart. I assure you, I won’t bother you again tonight.” You closed your eyes and drifted off, held by your partner, who was finally satiated. 

——————————————————————————

Thank you for reading!

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!🩵

Tags: @unfedmind @brywolf13145 @littlegreendove @pedroswife69 @mrsyixingunicorn10 @musesofthenight

[sixhours]

who knows where the time goes

It's New Year's 2027 and the dads are going through it. An i know you by heart one-shot.

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut. Words: 11k Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Prospect, Joel Miller x Ezra, Joel & Ellie, Ezra & Cee, Joel is bad at feelings and relationships, Ellie is a little shit (affectionate), fluff for once, canon-compliant with season 1, SMUT, smut right off the bat, don't say I didn't warn you, gay sex, anal fingering, blowjobs, bisexual!Joel, gay!Ezra, homophobia and use of homophobic slurs, romance, age gap (~10ish years so barely a thing), I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

Notes: Look Ma, no angst! The boys are back and they're stupid in love and their kids are growing up even if that's hard to accept.

You can also read who knows where the time goes on AO3

Joel is beginning to wonder why the hell he agreed to this.

Ezra came what could have been minutes or hours or days ago. He’s in no rush to finish the job they’d started in the shower, and now Joel is hard as a rock and trussed up with a belt securing his wrists to the headboard, and his partner seems intent on edging him to the point of delirium.

Ezra releases his cock from between kiss-swollen lips and Joel looks down, gritting his teeth in frustration. This is the third time he’s come so close to release he could almost taste it, and now Ezra is smirking that coy little smirk and crawling up the bed in the wrong fuckin’ direction. He kisses his way back up Joel’s body, lingering on his stomach, nipping at the softness there, dipping his tongue into Joel’s navel, then coming up to tease a nipple with the flat of his tongue until he arches.

“Hello, songbird,” he whispers, nuzzling at Joel’s lips with the tip of his prominent nose.

“I hate you,” Joel growls, an errant tear of frustration drawing a wet trail down to his temple.

“You don’t mean that, cher ,” he says, eyes flashing. “You know the safeword. Use it at your leisure, mon coeur , unless…you think you can take a little more…”

Joel groans as Ezra purposefully lays his weight along him, thigh pressed firmly along his leaking cock, offering barely enough friction to satisfy. He wriggles against him anyway, seeking any kind of release at this point, reduced to humping his goddamned leg like a dog.

Oh, the things he’s going to do to that man when he gets his hands free.

Ezra seems preoccupied with his neck, the line of his jaw, stubble scraping against stubble that he wishes was scraping somewhere else. Like between his thighs. There’s the brush of his lips at the hollow of Joel’s throat, the bite of teeth testing the tender flesh. Then he’s being kissed soundly, hungrily, lower lip sucked greedily into Ezra’s hot mouth, tongues slipping over one another in a lush dance that does little to cool the roaring fire in his lower belly or soothe the heaviness between his legs.

And then he’s left gasping, no more friction, no more warmth or weight, and he growls a protest and tugs at the restraint. His eyes roll in his head at Ezra’s gentle huff of laughter, and he’s halfway to slipping his hands out of the belt loops–they’re not that tight–when Ezra’s mouth finds his cock again.

“Ohhh oh oh fuck,” he manages, a strangled cry of surrender.

His breath comes in hot, frantic pants as Ezra’s tongue swirls a brand just inside the tip of his foreskin, and an errant flick against the slit elicits an involuntary whimper from Joel’s lips. Then he’s wrapped in the hot wet silk of Ezra’s mouth, his tongue sliding and slicking every inch, grunting when his cheeks hollow and he sucks, a rough tug upward that sends sparks of molten ecstasy up Joel’s spine. He’s so worked up at this point, it takes almost nothing to bring him to the edge, hips bucking and straining to follow the source of his pleasure.

“Baby…oh, god, Ez, please…I’m gonna…gonna come,” he grits out.

Ezra chooses that moment to pull away, deep brown eyes wide and feigning innocence.

“I do believe that’s the point of this little exercise, mon cœur .”

“Fuck!” Joel roars as his orgasm slips quietly out of reach. Again.

“Mmmhmm,” Ezra coos, drawing it out in a self-satisfied hum as he plants a kiss on Joel’s hip, rubs his scruff against the tender skin of his inner thigh, levers his legs apart with broad shoulders and draws lazy circles along his sac with his tongue. “Yes, that is the idea here.”

“Is it?” Joel pants, bucking his hips in a vain effort to get Ezra’s attention back where it needs to be. “Because that’s not…not what…oh, fuck, Ez, don’t stop…ah, fuck.”

He loses his train of thought as Ezra adeptly sucks one of his balls into his mouth, holds it, runs the soft wet muscle of his tongue around it.

“I think you like it,” Ezra murmurs, muffled by the vee of his legs as his tongue dips and licks and sucks lower, tasting his own sticky release between Joel’s legs. Then one thick finger slides in easily, followed by another.

Joel squirms as he begins petting that spot inside with the tips of his fingers, stoking the throbbing heat in his gut. He’s leaking precum in a steady stream, cock twitching whenever Ezra pushes in and hooks his fingers at just the right angle. Rubbing and rubbing and stroking until Joel fairly keens.

“Please,” he whimpers. “Oh, fuck, please Ez, please I need…I need–”

“What do you need, cher ?”

“You,” Joel growls, the word rumbling up from somewhere deep in his chest, reduced to the throbbing between his legs, the heat boiling at the base of his spine, the persistent aching want of it.

“Since you asked so nicely,” Ezra murmurs.

Ezra lifts his head, securing his fingers and taking Joel’s cock so deep his nose brushes the soft thatch of hair at the root. He can’t look away when Ezra’s eyes meet his own, anchoring him, even as his body arcs and twitches like a live wire, heels digging into the mattress when his sensitive head hits the back of his throat. And when he finally begins to move with purpose, when it’s clear he has no intention of slowing or stopping or delaying the inevitable, Joel thinks he might black out from the intensity, head slamming back to the pillow with a cry that is as much relief as pleasure.

please, please, baby, please, ezra, love, please

He’s not even sure if he’s saying the words aloud. His mouth is moving, sounds of pleasure bubbling forth as Ezra devours him with firm strokes of his mouth, over and over and over, fingers tapping a heartbeat rhythm inside him. He’s nothing but heat and throb and pulse and so full and wet and–

oh oh oh yes there right there right oh god ezra yes please

Joel finally comes, and comes, and comes, orgasm drawn out for what feels like eternity. Arms aching and taut, shoulders on fire, body jerking and arching until he’s drained and limp with it. And Ezra doesn’t stop, just continues his ministrations, softer swipes of his tongue, gentle suckles, licking him and lapping at him like a fucking ice cream cone until even the slightest movement sends his body into a fit of overstimulated shivers and the safeword is dancing on the tip of Joel’s tongue.

When he’s completely soft, Ezra finally releases him, carefully straddling his hips. Joel doesn’t have a single muscle left at his command. He tries to move and his body just…doesn’t.

And Ezra, the smug bastard, seems really fucking pleased with himself.

“Did so good for me, love,” he murmurs, tugging at the strap securing Joel’s wrists to free him from the headboard, guiding his arms down to rest against his chest. He’s far too adept given his lack of a second hand, and if Joel weren’t so fucked out, he might think to question Ezra’s skill with restraints.

Ezra takes one of Joel’s wrists in hand, examining it with soft eyes. He kisses the pink stripe of skin where the belt etched a mark, soothes it with his tongue, then kisses the tip of each knuckle before gently lowering the arm, repeating the ritual with his other wrist. Joel winces; his shoulders are gonna feel it tomorrow. Hell, his whole body is going to feel it tomorrow.

“Sore?” Ezra murmurs as if reading his mind.

Joel doesn’t have the energy to do much more than blink in response. He’s coated in a fine sheet of sweat, the sheets beneath them soaked. His heart throbs in his throat.

When he finally finds his voice, all he can utter is, “You’re a fuckin’ menace.”

Ezra grins then, the boyish, cocky smile that made Joel fall in love with him. He slides down until he’s resting against Joel’s side, lets their lips meet and parts them easily with the deft swipe of his tongue. He tastes himself, lets Ezra lick into his mouth with a shuddering whimper. Even now, overstimulated as he is, he lets Ezra take what he needs, take and take and take, deepening the kiss until his head swims, until they’re both breathless from sharing each others’ air. Ezra is somehow more needy after sex, nuzzling and nipping like he can’t get close enough, only satisfied when Joel finds the strength to roll to his side and wrap an arm and a leg around him, caging him with his body and pressing him firmly into the mattress.

“Let me take my reprieve for a moment, then I’ll draw us a bath,” Ezra rumbles against Joel’s throat.

“Ain’t movin’,” Joel says.

“You are,” Ezra says easily, kissing his nose. “I cannot abide the night in this sweaty, soiled bedding.”

“Shower, then,” he mutters. “You put me in the bath and I’m stayin’ there ‘til next week.”

“Fair enough.”

And they do eventually work up the energy to shower, a perfunctory wash that has Joel leaning against the wall with exhaustion and Ezra doing most of the work to clean them both. He leaves to let Joel finish up, and by the time he’s dried off and pulled on his boxers, Ezra has already changed the sheets and is sitting up in bed, reading glasses perched on his nose as he frowns at some psychology text, damp hair curling around his ears.

The sight of him like this, so domestic, still flushed from sex and the shower, stirs a primal feeling in Joel’s gut, something new and unexplored. It’s the same feeling that led him to stash a small blue box in the back of his nightstand drawer, a box he hasn’t worked up the courage to think about since he put it there a few months ago.

But he’s too damn tired to ponder that right now.

He slides between clean sheets and pulls the quilt up to his chin and plants a kiss on the side of Ezra’s thigh because it’s the only part of him within reach. He’s already half asleep when Ezra pauses his reading to curl over him, whispering a soft goodnight into his ear.

~*~

Joel wakes with a groan several hours later. He’d barely moved in the night, hadn’t even turned over once, and now he’s paying for it, every muscle stiff with the pleasant ache of overuse.

“Songbird,” Ezra rumbles in his ear.

A slow kiss good morning turns into something more, something unhurried and deep and languid with no ulterior aim. Just the thought of trying to get it up again makes Joel’s groin ache, anyway.

“Mmm, mornin’,” he murmurs into Ezra’s mouth, not quite breaking the kiss, not quite ready to leave their warm cocoon. His lips wander, nipping at Ezra’s chin, his neck, suckling at the freckle just behind his left ear, that hidden spot that makes him shudder.

Downstairs, the door slams.

“Joel?”

Ellie’s voice echoes up the stairs. She moved into the garage over the summer, after she turned seventeen, right about the time Ezra started sleeping over on a more permanent basis. The extra space seems to have done their relationship some good and given them all some necessary privacy, but usually she’s the one joining them for breakfast and not the other way around.

“Jesus, what time is it?” Joel mutters.

Ezra rolls over and squints at the clock. “Eight-thirty.”

“Joel? Ezra?”

“We’re comin’,” Joel calls, stealing one more kiss before he slips reluctantly out of bed. “Hold your damn horses.”

By the time he makes it downstairs, a pot of coffee is bubbling on the stove and Ellie is frying eggs in the large cast iron skillet.

“Wild night?” she asks, not looking up from the pan. “Wait, don’t answer that. I don’t wanna know.”

Joel snorts, headed straight for the coffee, dropping a kiss on the back of her head.

“This the good stuff?” he asks, peering over her shoulder.

“Mmhm. Leftover from Christmas,” Ellie says, flipping an egg, yolk breaking all over the pan. “Damnit.”

He groans in wordless appreciation and pours himself a cup. The first sip is almost as orgasmic as…well. He sighs a deep, rumbling sigh and carries his mug to the table, holding it in both hands with reverence.

“Should I leave you two alone?” she snarks, just as Ezra joins them.

“Morning, gem,” Ezra says, eyes brightening. “Ooh, is that real coffee I smell?”

“The finest shitwater this side of the Mississippi,” Ellie drawls. “100% pure, uncut shit.”

This does nothing to dissuade Ezra from pouring himself a cup and indulging with the same reverence as his partner. Ellie pours herself some apple juice and slides the eggs onto three plates, carrying all of it to the kitchen table.

“Are you two going to the bonfire tonight?” she asks, sitting down and forking half an egg into her mouth in one swift motion.

“Wouldn’t miss it, gem,” Ezra says, just as Joel mutters, “Don’t think so.”

Ellie smirks as they exchange a look.

“S’the same thing as last year,” Joel grumbles. “New year, new flag, someone gets drunk and tries to set themselves on fire by fallin’ into the pit. Not a whole helluva lot to miss.”

“Come, songbird, you can’t tell us there isn’t a certain hopeful, buoyant energy about the time. Is there nothing more sacred than the ritual of a community overcoming all odds, welcoming the year with fresh spirits?”

“At least it’s not a stupid dance,” Ellie supplies. “And there’ll be marshmallows. Talia made loads.”

“See? Marshmallows!” Ezra nudges Joel, who grumbles a non-answer and returns his attention to his coffee.

“And I heard Marnie Jacobs designed the flag this year,” Ellie continues. “So you know it’ll be weird.”

The town flag has become a Jackson New Year’s tradition. Instead of a ball drop, the final ten seconds of the year are celebrated by raising a new flag in the town square. The design is kept secret by the council and its creator until its reveal, and at this time of year, speculation runs rampant. Joel figures this is what passes for entertainment in a world without reality TV.

“Ellie,” he scolds mildly.

“What? It’s true, Marnie’s a fuckin’ weirdo. Didn’t say it was a bad thing. Anyway, I’m going to be with Cat and Dina and Jesse so feel free to pretend you don’t know me.”

“Won’t Cee be joining you?” Ezra asks.

“No, she’s going with Luke.”

There’s a heavy pause as Ezra narrows his eyes. “I see.”

“You don’t like him very much, do you?” Ellie says nonchalantly, taking a sip of her juice. Joel gives her a light kick under the table and shoots her a look.

Ezra scowls, grabbing his plate and taking it to the sink. “I have no reason to dislike the boy.”

He spits out the word boy with clear disdain. Cee and Luke have been an ongoing topic of contention since they started dating last summer. Ezra seems to have abandoned his usual easy-going attitude with regards to this particular part of Cee’s life in favor of watching the two like a hawk and griping about how close they’ve become, both literally and figuratively. There’s nothing inherently wrong with the relationship that Joel can see–just that Cee is one of the two people involved.

“However–” Ezra begins, clearly about to hold forth. Again.

“Annnnd that’s my cue,” Ellie says, hopping up from the table with a mouthful of food, gulping down the rest of her juice, and tossing her plate in the sink.

“Deserter,” Joel hisses under his breath as his kid abandons him to Ezra’s monologue, practically frolicking out the door. 

“Cee is too young to be tying herself down, she’s barely old enough to know what she wants, what’s good for her–”

“Uh-huh,” Joel says, sipping his coffee, knowing it’s better to let Ezra wear himself out than try to interject. But he’s still going when the dishes are done and they’re walking to their respective assignments; Ezra to his office, still at his old house, and Joel to a remodeling project on the north end of town.

“I know you see her as a kid, but she’s twenty years old, Ez,” Joel tries, when it’s clear his partner is not going to be subdued.

“He’s older,” Ezra counters.

“By six months,” Joel says, quirking his lips.

“Still, I am loath to see birdie’s impressionable young mind corrupted by–”

“She’s a smart kid. She ain’t gettin’ corrupted.”

“They’re always together, always on top of each other–”

“Most I’ve ever seen ‘em do is hold hands.”

“The autumn dance?” he says insistently. “Remember? One couldn’t have pried the two apart with a crowbar.”

“He was nothin’ but respectful, hands never went south of her waist. I know, because you made us watch ‘em all damn night,” he grumbles. “Luke’s a good patroller, hard worker, got a good head on his shoulders. He’s polite, does his job. Mom’s on the council–”

“None of which means he isn’t harboring sinister motives, songbird.”

“They seem happy enough. They’re young, sure, but…Cee could do a lot worse.”

“Well, I don’t trust him. You and I are far too familiar with the habits of young men of a certain age.”

Joel snorts. “You’re preachin’ to the choir. But the clinic’s got birth control.”

“She’s on it, I made sure of that,” he says, frowning. “But there are worse things than pregnancy. She has that whole house to herself, and I can’t help but think they have a bit too much freedom, too much space in which to make trouble.”

“Don’t think ‘trouble’ is the word you’re lookin’ for,” he smirks, eliciting a scowl from Ezra. “You could sleep at your place more often.”

He hates the idea as soon as the words are out of his mouth.

“Don't doubt I have considered it. I recognize the need for some independence on her part. I just…I can’t help but feel incredibly protective of her.”

“Congratulations, dad ,” he says wryly. “Welcome to the club.”

“I know where we come from, songbird,” he says, shoulders sagging a little. “I know what she…what we…went through. I fear she doesn't have a solid grounding in intimate relationships and therefore lacks the experience and…and foresight to fully grasp the consequences.”

“You fared alright,” Joel counters softly.

“Yes, well, I’ve had years to draw my own conclusions. She’s–she’s…”

For once, Ezra seems to find himself at a loss for words.

“She’s gonna figure it out the way the rest of us did,” Joel finishes for him. “Trial an’ error, an’ a little bit of heartbreak.”

They’ve reached his office. They linger outside while Ezra frowns, thoughtful.

“Would you be so cavalier if it were our…your young prodigy?”

Joel can’t help but notice the our , but he bites his lip on that.

“Y’know…I think I would,” Joel says. “‘Sides, Ellie’s not into that stuff yet. She’s got her friends…her patrols. Doesn’t seem all that taken by anyone.”

Thank fuck , he doesn’t say. He tries to imagine Ellie in a romantic relationship but can’t quite manage it. That Jesse kid seems to have taken a liking to her, but then he’s always hanging around with the girls…to the point where Joel wonders if he’s a little more like Ezra than Joel.

“Well, when she is, perhaps you’ll see it from my point of view,” Ezra sighs.

“Maybe so,” Joel says agreeably, placing his hands on Ezra’s shoulders until they’re standing face to face. “What was it you said? ‘Hopeful, buoyant energy?’ New year, new start? It’ll work out.”

He brightens. “Does that mean I’ll see you at the bonfire tonight?”

Joel huffs a breath into the cold. “Yeah…fine. I’ll be there.”

“Perhaps we’ll share a New Year’s kiss?” Ezra grins, moving closer. “We could practice…”

Joel lets himself be pulled into a one-armed embrace, lets Ezra’s mouth slant over his in a kiss reminiscent of their morning explorations, something on the edge of indecent for standing in the middle of the street.

“Yeah, yeah, go on,” Joel mutters when he finally pulls away, a blush creeping from the base of his neck to the tips of his ears. But he walks the rest of the way to work with a lightness in his step, thinking of the small blue box in his nightstand drawer.

~*~

The evening of the bonfire settles over Jackson crisp and clear. Joel goes home after work to wash up, finding a note on the table from Ezra–he got roped into helping set up in town. Ellie is nowhere to be found, probably finishing up with her work shift or off somewhere with her friends, so he eats a supper of leftover chicken and potatoes standing at the counter, alone. There was a time in his life here when this was the norm, and he doesn’t miss it.

He heads to the party around nine, drawn to the north field by plumes of fragrant woodsmoke and the sound of live music. They’re far away enough from town not to cause concern but still in sight of the square, and close to the creek so they have ready access to water, but there’s no wind tonight and no reason to think there will be trouble. There’s already a crowd around the roaring fire. Cold as it is, the intense warmth radiating from the central pyre is welcome.

Joel helps himself to a bottle of hard cider–it’s the closest thing they have to champagne–and finds Ezra at the edge of the crowd, chatting animatedly with Marnie. She’s eccentric, he’ll give Ellie that–bushy red hair, Coke-bottle glasses, neon pink ski jacket decorated with patches and buttons, but she’s friendly and talented with a sewing machine. She’s made clothes for half the town, and Joel is pretty sure the flannel he’s wearing under his jacket is one of hers.

He lingers in the background, content to watch his people enjoying the celebration. He glimpses Ellie and her friends off to one side, huddled together in that secretive way of teenagers, wanting to be in the middle of the action while still appearing aloof. Tommy is wrangling Isabel, the toddler doing her best to keep her father on his toes, drawn like a moth to a literal flame; Joel can’t help but think of Sarah at that age, the constant need for distraction and redirection. Maria is chatting with one of their neighbors, looking more relaxed than he’s seen her in a while. Izzy must finally be sleeping through the night.

Then he catches sight of Cee sitting on a log on the other side of the fire with Luke. They’re close, heads bowed together as they strain to hear one another over the crackling, popping fire and the crowd, lost in their own little world. Ezra sidles up to Joel with a frown.

“Perhaps I should check in, ensure our little birdie is–”

“Leave it,” Joel says, threading their fingers together. “And hello, by the way.”

“I just–”

“Ez, c’mon,” he murmurs, tugging him back, wrapping an arm around his waist. He’s not usually so affectionate in public but Ezra is pliant enough. He settles against his side, still eyeing the oblivious young couple with suspicion, and Joel not so subtly turns them and marches them in a different direction.

“C’mon, let ‘em enjoy the party without us old guys hangin’ around.”

“Their ‘enjoyment’ is exactly what I’m afraid of,” he grumbles, glancing over his shoulder as Joel practically drags Ezra to the cider table and forces a bottle into his hands.

“Never developed a taste for this stuff,” Ezra says, wrinkling his nose.

“Well, develop one,” Joel says drily. “You need to relax.”

“I am perfectly relaxed,” he mutters sourly, but he takes a large swig from the bottle.

At some point Ellie flits by, licking her fingers clean of what is probably her fifth toasted marshmallow, if Joel had to guess. She’s talking excitedly with Cat through a mouthful of white fluff when she notices them, waving with a grin and wandering their way. Cat is the most reserved of Ellie’s friends. Like Dina, she lives with her older sister, but Joel gets the sense she’s not looked after closely.

“Dude! You actually came,” Ellie says, punching Joel on the arm in greeting.

“Seems that way,” he agrees mildly, keeping what he hopes is a not-embarrassing distance. It takes all his self-restraint not to pull her into a hug and give her a noogie.

“What a pleasant surprise, you’ve decided to acknowledge our presence,” Ezra quips.

“Don’t worry, it’s temporary,” she smiles, eyes shining. “We heard Marcello found a bunch of those sparkler things on a scavenging run. We’re gonna go see if twenty-year-old fireworks still light.”

“What could go wrong?” Ezra says at the same time Joel opens his mouth to protest. But someone taps him on the back–Tommy with Isabel in tow–and Ellie and Cat and their plans are lost to the crowd. He sends up a silent wish for his kid to survive the night with all her fingers and toes intact before accepting his niece, bundled up against the cold in her winter snow suit.

“Someone wanted to see her uncles,” Tommy says, looking a bit rough around the edges.

“Unca Jojo! Unca Ra!”

“Sure she did,” he smirks. “More like daddy just needed a break from chasin’ her around all night, huh bug?”

“Biiiiiig fow,” she agrees. “Big fow owie.”

“You bet, kid. What’re you doin’ up this late, anyway?” he asks, and she launches into an explanation in toddlerspeak that Joel just barely understands.

“Mama n’ Dada bing Izzy wiff. Big fow! No ni-ni.”

“Everyone an’ their great aunt is here tonight,” Tommy shrugs. “Couldn’t find a sitter so bedtime is canceled. Don’t think we’re gonna make it to midnight, though.”

“Didn’t ask me,” Joel says. “Would’ve loved to have an excuse to get outta this.”

“I beg your pardon,” Ezra says, feigning offense, sticking out his tongue at Izzy, who giggles shyly. Babies aren’t Ezra’s thing, but he and Izzy have developed a tentative friendship based on a regular exchange of funny faces.

Conversation turns to the usual subjects; the weather, the never-ending list of community construction projects, council business, Izzy’s sleep habits, Ellie’s misadventures. At some point, Ezra quietly excuses himself and Joel loses track of him, focused instead on talking to Tommy and keeping Izzy from wiggling her way out of his arms.

When Joel thinks to look for him, searching the crowd of familiar faces, he finds his partner hovering over Cee and Luke. The kids look less than pleased. Joel is debating whether to intervene when Cee stands and leaves in a huff, and Ezra takes her place on the log next to a very uncomfortable looking Luke.

“Shiiiii–shoot,” he mutters, interrupting his brother and handing the baby back. “I gotta go.”

Tommy arches a brow. “Everythin’ okay?”

“Dunno yet,” he mutters before striding over to the other side of the bonfire.

“‘Scuse us,” he says to Luke, pulling Ezra up by the hand before he can protest and steering them away from the poor kid. Joel remembers when Sarah was little, how he and Tommy would joke about sitting on the porch, cleaning their guns if she brought a boy home. He’s pretty sure he just saw Ezra’s version of that in action.

“The hell did you say to them?” he growls when they’re away from the crowd.

“ Moi ? Nothing untoward. I simply asked after Luke’s intentions toward our…my…toward Cee.”

“Uh-huh,” Joel says, unconvinced.

“And then I had a…chat…with this Luke boy.”

“Worse than the damn toddler,” Joel grumbles. “Gotta follow you everywhere just to keep you from gettin’ in trouble.”

Ezra sulks, but he promises to leave the kids alone for the rest of the evening—an easy promise to make now that Cee appears to have abandoned the party.

The last of New Year’s Eve passes with conversation and music and the heat of the fire on their faces. Joel nurses his bottle of cider and keeps to the edges while Ezra wanders and returns to his side every so often. At some point, glittering trails of light appear in the distance, writing nonsense patterns against the dark. Apparently, twenty-year-old sparklers do still light.

Eventually, Ezra returns and tucks into Joel’s side for warmth, wrinkling his nose as someone on the music crew strums an off-key rendition of Prince’s 1999 .

“You should be up there,” Ezra nudges him, nodding toward the makeshift band.

“Hell’s gotta freeze over first,” Joel says.

“If hell were going to freeze over, Jackson would be the place to do it,” Ezra mutters, shivering a little despite the heat of the fire. 

“S’nice, though,” Joel murmurs, low enough for only Ezra to hear. “Glad you talked me into it.”

The countdown begins at ten seconds to midnight. The crowd watches as the new flag ascends to its place in the square and the design is pretty tame for Marnie’s work. The silhouette of a bison stitched onto a canvas backdrop, quilted from dozens of scraps of fabric representing the town’s diverse citizenry. Tomorrow they’ll examine it up close and see remnants from blankets, shirts, and even a scrap from last year’s flag—pieces of cloth that have likely touched every single resident at one point or another. It reaches the top of the pole just as they welcome in the new year with raucous cheers and the ringing of bells and a chorus of Auld Lang Syne .

But Joel has stopped watching the flag ceremony, unmoved by the din, head turned instead to watch his partner in the firelight. And when the final cheer rises up, he’s waiting and ready to take his kiss. More chaste than their exchange this morning, but still a balm to Joel’s heart.

“Happy New Year, songbird,” Ezra murmurs when they pull apart, and Joel thinks there might be something to his words of hope earlier, because his eyes are the slightest bit wet. He’ll blame the smoke from the fire and the single cider he finished an hour ago.

Then Ellie’s voice rises above the din, the shrill, angry note turning Joel’s stomach and tightening his jaw before he can spot her.

“Say it again, motherfucker!”

She’s squared off with someone on the other side of the fire, blurred by the heat haze. Joel is moving toward them without thought, following the sound of Seth McLeland and his big drunk mouth. Ellie is still tiny for her age, barely coming up to Seth’s shoulder, but she’s solid on her feet and her opponent sways like a tree in the wind.

“I said,” Seth spits, slurring his words, “m’surrounded by a buncha fuckin’ faggots.”

“Ellie, c’mon–” Dina is coming over, but Joel gets there first.

“You piece of sh–”

“C’mon, kid, he ain’t worth it,” Joel grits out, grabbing Ellie by the arm just as she’s winding up to take a swing.

“Joel,” she hisses, turning on him. “He said–”

“I heard what he said, but he’s drunk as a fuckin’ skunk and he’ll get what’s comin’ to him. Ain’t worth your time or mine.”

Seth snarls. “Used to be this was a decent town. Can’t go ten feet without seein’ this…this rainbow gay shit all over the fuckin’ place.”

“Perhaps I can help mediate?” Ezra pipes up, and Joel glares at him, still hoping to stave off a Miller family brawl with the town’s notoriously homophobic jackass. Ignoring Joel’s silent plea, Ezra steps up to Seth with a smile that’s more predatory than friendly, leans in, and whispers something into the other man’s ear. Joel waits, still holding Ellie by the arm, watching closely. Seth’s face twists in a sneer, then he ducks his head with the air of someone shamed.

“What do you say, my good man?” Ezra says, still smiling his shark-tooth smile, clapping Seth roughly on the shoulder. “Let’s say you call it a night and we all forget this ever happened, hmm?”

And whatever he said, it looks like that might have done the trick. Seth grunts a wordless response, and Ezra turns away.

But then Seth sneers under his breath, the slur unmistakeable. “Turn tail and run, fag.”

The crunch of the man’s nose breaking under Joel’s fist is the most satisfying thing he’s felt all damn day.

~*~

“My hero,” Ezra says drily, when they’re back at home and he's tending to Joel’s bruised knuckles at the kitchen table. He definitely aggravated the old hairline fracture; his hand is going to ache for weeks. Thankfully Maria and two others intervened before Seth could throw a punch, so that’s the worst of the damage.

Worth it , Joel thinks.

“Wish you’d let me hit him first,” Ellie sulks from her perch on the counter.

“Better me than you if someone’s gonna get in trouble for fightin’,” Joel says. “‘Sides, I’m stronger. He ain’t gonna be able to breathe out his nose for a month.”

“Rude,” Ellie says, but a smirk pulls at the corner of her lips.

“I had hoped we might extract ourselves without it coming to fisticuffs,” Ezra says pointedly. “But your Joel here couldn’t let sleeping dogs lie.”

“He’s only mine when he’s behaving,” Ellie supplies, hopping off the counter with a yawn. “He’s all yours tonight, Ez.”

Joel gives her a look, but she just pats him on the shoulder on her way out the door. “Great start to the year, dudes.”

“Fucker was overdue,” Joel grumbles when she’s gone, then remembers Ezra’s failed intervention. “The hell’d you say to him, anyway?”

“Oh, I know all sorts of dirty little secrets about the people in this town, songbird,” he says, eyes glittering. “Just went through my mental rolodex of contenders with regards to our dear friend Seth and found the sweet spot. The one thing that might ruin him should it get out.”

“And what might that be?”

“It’d be unethical to share, I’m afraid,” Ezra says, feigning a pout.

“And blackmail ain’t?”

“Mmm, I am not aware of any such laws on the books regarding blackmail. And in the case of blatant hate speech at a family function? I don’t think the fine members of the Jackson council will revoke my license in this particular situation.”

“You don’t have a license,” Joel grumbles.

“My point exactly,” he grins, finishing the wrap on Joel’s hand. “There, that should hold. The next time you feel the need to defend my honor, try to use the un broken fist. I can give you some tips on throwing a punch with your left. I’ve had plenty of practice.”

“Wasn’t just about you,” Joel says, flexing his busted hand with a grimace. “We’re not the only ones. Kids shouldn’t have to hear that shit.”

“Yes,” Ezra sighs, rubbing the back of Joel’s hand with his thumb. “I can’t argue with your logic or your sense of common decency, cher , it’s perfectly sound. I just wish you didn’t need to come to physical harm in the process.”

“I can take it,” he says, standing and stretching, heading for the stairs. “Did you find out what happened with Cee?”

“I…no. What with all the evening’s drama, I didn’t catch up with her. I suspect she went home.”

“Hmm.”

They leave it at that while they get ready for bed, the kind of mundane routines that still surprise Joel despite having lived together for most of the year. Two toothbrushes by the sink, two razors, and the mouthwash Ezra likes. A stack of books on each nightstand, half a closetful of clothes, and a slew of record albums on the dresser. Joel isn’t sure when he started thinking of it as their home, not his home, but it probably has something to do with the little box in his nightstand drawer.

“Do you think I’ve been too harsh with her, songbird?” Ezra asks as they’re getting into bed. For all his earlier bravado and posturing, he seems deflated now.

“No,” Joel sighs. “Think you’re tryin’ your best, same as the rest of us. Prob’ly been a bit hard on that Luke kid, though.”

“I admit, I’m…I’m probably not at my most objective when it comes to Cee,” he frowns.

“She’s on the patrol roster,” he says, flicking off the lamp. “Maybe I can pair up with her next time we’re on the same shift, see if we can talk it out.”

“You would do that?” Ezra brightens. “Perhaps she’d listen to you. Or…talk to you, at least. I’m not always her first choice.”

“Chasin’ her off tonight prob’ly didn’t do you any favors,” he sighs. “But yeah…I can try.”

“Thank you,” Ezra murmurs, slipping his arm around Joel’s waist.

“‘Course,” he says. They stay like that for a while, Ezra’s head on Joel’s shoulder, fingers tracing the scars that litter his chest and stomach.

“You know,” Ezra murmurs into Joel’s ear. “I hesitate to say anything in the interests of preventing future encounters, songbird, but…there is a certain… je ne sais quoi to watching the man you love brutalize a raging homophobe.”

“Yeah?” Joel snorts. “That do it for ya?”

“Mmm.”

And Joel can feel exactly what it does for him, a certain familiar insistence at his hip. He turns over, met with those dark brown eyes, remembers them lit by firelight, and presses his lips to Ezra’s. Soon they’re panting, Ezra breaking the kiss to huff the words into Joel’s mouth between kisses.

“I…presume you’re still a bit…sore…after yesterday’s…endeavors…”

“I think we can figure somethin’ out.”

And they do.

~*~

A few days later, Joel goes to the stables early to check the patrol schedule. Cee did her training over the spring and summer so she was still considered a junior patroller, but winter patrols were perfect for that. The cold and snow made it difficult for humans and infected alike, making for shorter, less eventful runs and good practice for those with less experience. Joel re-jigs the schedule to put himself with Cee that morning, figuring a few hours on horseback might give them a chance to talk.

If Ellie arrived in Jackson like a feral cat ready to scratch and bite, Cee was more the type to hide in the back of a closet. She was skittish and less inclined to socialize, not unlike Joel himself. They both liked their space, but that meant he and Cee didn’t have Ezra and Ellie’s easy friendship. They’d shared a few conversations here and there, usually over family meals, but little else.

The weather is clear, and the ride to the north ridge passes in comfortable quiet. Joel doesn’t broach the subject until they’re close to returning to Jackson. At least if it goes bad, they’ll only have to suffer for a few miles.

“Hey, so, uh…how’re things goin’ with that guy you’re seein’? Luke, right?”

Cee glares at him. “Did Ezra put you up to this?”

“He didn’t, I swear,” Joel says. “This…this was my idea. I think he’s bein’ a little overprotective, myself.”

“A little?” she huffs.

Joel bites his lip on a smile. “Alright…maybe more than a little.”

“To answer your question, things are fine with Luke,” she says tersely. “They would be better if Ezra wasn’t intent on making a complete ass of himself every time he sees us together. But I can’t seem to get that through his thick skull.”

“Yeah, I…I noticed.”

“I don’t get why he’s being such a dick about it,” she says after they’ve ridden a little further. “I’m almost twenty-one. It’s like…it’s like he still sees me as this little kid.”

Joel clucks his tongue. “You spend long enough protectin’ someone…that’s a hard habit to break. He’s lookin’ out for you the best way he knows how.”

“I don’t need looking after, though.”

“I know. An’ I think he does, too, even if he won’t admit it,” he says. “It’s more about him than you, kiddo. He…he worries he’s not doin’ right by you. Worries he’s not…enough.”

“He’d be doing better if he’d just back off a little,” she scoffs.

“Yeah, I reckon he would,” he agrees. “Ezra’s stubborn, but…he’ll get there. Just has to do things on his own time.”

Cee frowns as they ride on, loping across the frigid landscape.

“I had a thought,” Joel continues. “Might not be the most comfortable way of doin’ things, but…what if we invited you and Luke to supper? Maybe give y’all a chance to, uh, talk. When Ellie an’ I were new here and things were…rocky…with Maria, Tommy had us over every week. Was pretty awkward at first, but then we kinda fell into a routine with it.”

She wrinkles her nose. “That sounds painful.”

Joel chuckles. “Yeah, it don’t sound like a good time to me, either. But it shows Ezra you’re willin’ to meet him halfway. And he’ll probably come around if he can see how much Luke cares about you.”

She doesn’t answer for a while and that suits Joel fine. He relaxes his attention a fraction and enjoys the ride, the crunch of snow under the horse’s hooves, the biting January air. They’re almost home, well within the safest part of Jackson’s territory.

“Okay,” she sighs finally. “We can try the dinner thing…I guess.”

“Yeah? Alright then. It’s a deal,” he says. “An’ it prob’ly goes without sayin’, but…if that kid ever lays a hand on you in the wrong way, it won’t just be Ezra he has to answer to. Understood?”

She smiles her shy, subdued smile. “I know. Thanks.”

“I mean that. You’re family. If anything happens–“

“I get it, I do, but he’s…he’s sweet,” she blushes, looking down at her hands on the reins. “He’s…careful. And kind. He writes. And we like the same books and music and…I dunno. I guess I just feel this…connection with him that I haven’t felt before. I never had the chance. Feels like I’m making up for lost time when I’m with him…y’know?”

“Yeah,” he says softly, thinking of Ezra. “Yeah, I do.”

“I wish Ez would just relax about it,” she sighs. “Like with you and Ellie.”

Joel blinks in surprise, thinking “relaxed” is not exactly how he’d describe his relationship with Ellie. But he doesn’t have a chance to question it before she continues.

“I mean, you’re not all on her case about…oh.”

She trails off with a faint squeak, going stiff in the saddle and jerking the reins. The horse rears and hesitates, sensing her rider’s distress, and Cee has to soothe and shush the animal to get her back on track.

“On her case about what?” Joel asks once the horse has settled.

Cee’s words come out in a rush. “Nothing. It’s nothing, I–I mean…nothing.”

“Wait, Cee…is Ellie…is Ellie seein’ someone?”

“No! No. She’s…she’s not…I didn’t say that,” she sputters, cheeks flushed.

“But you said–”

The gates are in sight and she’s brought the horse to a trot, pulling ahead of him. “Race you back!”

“Hey, hold up!”

But she’s already closing the gap between him and Jackson, waving the red flag to signal their reentry as she leaves Joel in her dust. By the time he rides through the gates, she’s abandoned her horse to the care of one of the stablehands and disappeared. It had gone so well, too; Cee said more words in the last half hour than she’d probably said to him in the last two years.

Goddamned skittish cat , Joel thinks miserably.

He’s still processing their conversation as he walks back from the stables. His chest goes tight as he considers the implications, remembering his seventeen-year-old self, carefree and reckless to a fault. He thinks of the steady rotation of condoms in his wallet and two lines on a pregnancy test. Fuck, they’ve never even talked about this and god knows what bullshit they taught in FEDRA school.

He’s been Ellie’s guardian for three years and he doesn’t even know if she’s on birth control.

This swirling mass of emotions is not assuaged as he approaches the house. Ellie’s garage apartment is unusually dark for this time of day. She’s probably just out with her friends , he tells himself, but the uncertainty churning in his gut leads him to knock on her door.

No response.

He’s raising his hand to knock again when he hears a noise. It’s faint, but not faint enough to escape his poor hearing.

“Ellie?”

Muffled sounds from within, but no response. The hair on the back of his neck prickles.

“Ellie, I’m comin’ in–”

“NO! Don’t!”

His hand snaps back from the doorknob at the sound of her voice, relieved to know she’s safe inside…and yet, not. “You alright, kid?”

“I’m…fine! It’s fine!”

“You don’t sound fine.”

More muffled sounds, a thud, then scraping and shuffling. And…giggling?

“I’m comin’ in,” he growls, but the doorknob turns under his hand and Ellie appears, face emerging from the darkened slit of her barely opened door.

“Don’t,” she pants. “I’m…I’m fine. There’s…I’m just…I was tired and needed to…rest before dinner.”

“You’re not gettin’ sick, are you?”

Another noise. Definitely a giggle. Not from Ellie.

Her ponytail is down, hair curling in wild wisps around her flushed face.

Her shirt is inside out.

She shoots a frantic look over her shoulder at the source of the giggles and offers Joel a weak smile. He puts two and two together just as Cat appears at the door clad in nothing but jeans and a sports bra, equally flushed and tousled.

Joel turns on his heel because he sure as hell doesn’t need to see more.

“I’m…you’re…I’m gonna…go,” he chokes out.

Ezra is sitting on the couch with his book when Joel stumbles in on wooden legs, looking up in alarm at Joel’s shell-shocked expression.

“What happened?”

“Ellie’s…uh…Ellie’s with a girl. With Cat.”

Ezra’s brow furrows. “And…?”

“I, uh…I almost…walked in on ‘em,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut. “Together. Christ.”

“Oh–OH,” Ezra says, eyes widening in understanding. “You mean with -with?”

“With-with,” Joel echoes dully.

His partner slowly closes the book and sets it on the coffee table. “Well that’s…an interesting development.”

Joel trudges over, not bothering to take off his jacket or boots, and sits heavily on the other side. “You didn’t know about this?”

“On my honor, songbird, I hadn’t the faintest inkling of a romantic entanglement on the part of our young prodigy. Are you…certain?”

Joel fixes him with a wordless stare.

“I see,” he murmurs. “Well, I suppose it was bound to happen sooner or later.”

Joel groans and sinks further into the couch, rubbing at his face with both hands. “Go ahead an’ get it over with, then.”

“I don’t follow.”

Another wordless stare.

Ezra tsks and smirks at his lap. “Come now, cher , I’d like to think I’m a bigger man than that. And ‘I told you so’ is such an unattractive turn of phrase.”

“Uh-huh,” Joel grunts. “So Ellie, uh…she likes…girls?”

Ezra’s face takes on a pinched expression that Joel has become all too familiar with in their time together. 

“But you knew that already,” he sighs. “Christ, do I even wanna know how long?” 

“She…may have sensed a kindred spirit in me early on.”

“How early are we talkin’?”

“I believe it was our sixth appointment or thereabouts,” Ezra has the decency to wince.

Joel balks. “You’ve…you’ve known for two fuckin’ years ?”

Ezra gives an apologetic shrug.

“How the hell’d I miss it?” he murmurs.

“I wouldn’t take it to heart, cher ,” Ezra says, reaching over to rub a soothing hand up and down Joel’s arm. “I suspect it’s only recently become something important to the development of her identity. Her first foray into a romantic endeavor, so to speak. It’s natural she’d want to keep it…close for a while. You might recall you were hesitant at first.”

“Yeah…yeah, I s’pose. Jesus. Even Cee knew,” he mutters.

“You spoke with Cee?”

“Yeah,” Joel sighs. “Switched patrol partners for the day so we could talk. Rode up to the ridge and back.”

“Any…insights you might be willing to share?” he asks hopefully.

“We’re gonna invite Cee and Luke over for supper.” 

Ezra blinks. “That’s…not exactly what I had in mind when you suggested a conversation.”

“We’re gonna invite the kids over, and we’re gonna get to know him, and you’re gonna behave. He ain’t goin’ anywhere anytime soon,” he says pointedly. “So if you wanna keep her around, you’re gonna have to figure out how to get along.”

~*~

Ellie storms in the next morning, cheeks flaming, and flops down on the couch without further greeting.

“Let’s get it over with,” she says.

Joel takes a sip of his coffee, thankful it’s still the good stuff because god knows he either needs to be caffeinated or drunk for this conversation, and it’s way too early for a stiff drink. “An’...what are we gettin’ over?”

“Y’know. The usual.”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific or let the coffee kick in, kid, ‘cause you’re not makin’ a lick of sense.”

She takes a deep breath and lets it out in a rush. “You lay into me, tell me I’m being a fuckin’ idiot or whatever, and then we talk about our stupid feelings and I tell you I have no idea what I’m doing and you make me feel better by reminding me that you’re here for me no matter what and then you ground me for like half of forever or until I’m forty, whichever comes first.”

He bites back a smile. “Seems like you’ve already parented yourself. My work here is done.”

“Ugh, dude, stop putting it off and just tell me how bad it is already.”

He walks over and settles into the chair in the living room with a muffled groan.

“So…how long have you an’ Cat been, uh…datin’?”

She rolls her eyes. “Nobody dates , Joel. It’s not dating, we just…hang out.”

“Alright, so how long have you been ‘hangin’ out?’”

“A few weeks,” she shrugs.

“And you didn’t think you could tell me…why?”

“I didn’t tell you because Ezra’s been really fucking weird about Luke, and I figured you’d be on my ass and be all scary to Cat and I don’t want to…to mess it up.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, leaning forward. “Okay, I get that.”

She narrows her eyes. “So…that’s it? You’re not pissed at me? I’m not, like, grounded until I’m forty?”

“Would it stop you from seein’ Cat?” he asks wryly.

“Probably not.”

“Exactly. No, I’m not pissed at you for, uh…’hangin’ out’ with someone…like that. Just want you to be safe about it, is all.”

“I feel like there’s a big-ass ‘but’ coming up.”

Joel snorts. “Honestly, kid, I dunno what I’m doin’ here. I never…Sarah never had a boyfriend or girlfriend, far as I know. Hell, we had the, uh, talk when she was twelve, an’ that was–”

“Awkward as fuck?” Ellie shudders. “Please don’t. I know how all that stuff works.”

“Good,” he says quickly. “Good. But…there’s more to it than just…the mechanics. There’s, uh, protection, and–”

“Ugh, gross, man,” she says, squeezing her eyes shut. “I know about…all of it. And we’re being safe. Promise.”

Joel sighs, biting his lip. “What I’m gettin’ at is…is she good to you?”

“What, does she like, bring me flowers and chocolates and shit?” Ellie says.

“No. I mean, maybe, if that’s what you like. But what I’m tryin’ to say is…in a relationship…like that…you want someone who’ll bring out the best in you. Someone who loves you for you, not what you can do for ‘em, y’know? Someone who…has your back. It ain’t just about the material stuff.”

Ellie arches an eyebrow in a silent what the fuck, dude?

“It’s…it’s a hard time to grow up,” he tries. “It’s always hard growin’ up, I guess, but…it’s especially hard now. You’ve seen things that no kid should have to see, done things no one should have to do. That…scars a person. Makes ‘em see things a certain way. An’ a lot of the people you’ll love are walkin’ around with similar…stuff. Am I makin’ any sense?”

“About as much as you usually do,” she sighs, but she’s smiling in that way that tells him he’s getting through.

“It took me twenty years of fightin’ to get to the point where I could…um. Where I could love someone…like that…again. An’ I want you to know you don’t have to…settle for anything you don’t want. I know you prob’ly haven’t had a lot of…examples…”

Ellie seems to consider this for a minute, looking at her lap as she speaks softly. “Cat’s good. She’s…we’re good. You don’t have to worry.”

Joel huffs a soft laugh, shaking his head. “I’m always gonna want to protect you. Keep you safe. That don’t just mean infected or raiders or…or bad people. Sometimes it’s about protectin’ your heart, too.”

She wrinkles her nose and fakes a gag, and he can’t resist reaching over to tousle her hair.

“Yeah, alright, enough of the mushy stuff. You’re not in trouble, kid.”

“That’s nice for a change,” she smiles. She’s making to leave when he has another thought.

“Oh, um…I hope you didn’t think I’d be mad it’s…another girl. ‘Cause I’m not. That’s…you’re, uh…you love who you love an’ all that.”

“Why would you be mad?” she asks, brow furrowing, then her eyes widen in understanding. “You didn’t know?”

“Uh…I guess I–are we talkin’ about the same thing?”

“You mean that I’m gay?”

“Yeah, uh…that.”

“Dude, I didn’t tell you because I thought you already knew,” she laughs. “You seriously had no idea?”

“How would I know somethin’ like that?” he grumbles.

She throws up her hands. “I dunno! Gay-dar or whatever!”

“That ain’t a thing.”

“Oh it totally is, and yours is broken ,” she says. “Besides, even if it wasn’t totally fuckin’ obvious–and it is–I figured Ezra would have said something forever ago.”

“We don’t talk about you like that, kiddo. Wouldn’t be right.”

“Wow,” she breathes, then laughs again. “I can’t believe you really didn’t know.”

“You can quit rubbin’ it in any time,” he mutters.

She grins. “What can I say? I’m a chip off the ol’ block, emphasis on the old .”

“Alright, alright,” he says, chuckling. “Ease up, I get it. I’m out of touch.”

“ So out of touch,” she grins, but her words carry an easy affection. “Ancient history. A fucking dinosaur.”

“You love dinosaurs,” he reminds her.

“Yeah…I guess I do.”

“Hey, uh…before you go. We’re havin’ Cee and Luke over for supper next week. Maybe you wanna invite Cat? Make it a family thing?”

“Not a fucking chance, dude,” she says easily, then ducks her head. “We’re not…there yet.”

“Alright,” he nods. “I get it.”

“But I will be there,” she adds, eyes shining. “Wouldn’t miss that shitshow for the world.”

~*~

He decides on pasta because it’s quick and filling and something he can’t easily fuck up. Joel is ready to open one of the jars of summer tomatoes for marinara, but Ezra intervenes, insisting that a cream sauce is faster and less prone to staining.

“Preferably with lots of garlic,” he mutters. “To discourage kissing.”

“They ain’t vampires, Ez,” Joel says, but he lets Ezra take over dinner preparations. He’s the better cook, anyway.

When Cee and Luke show up, shuffling their feet and offering a plate of cookies, Joel has to elbow a tight thank you out of Ezra, and it doesn’t get much better when the food is served.

They crowd five people around a table that’s made for four and Jesus fuck , it’s awkward. Joel wonders if this is how Frank and Tess felt watching him and Bill snarl at each other over wine and roasted rabbit. Unfortunately, this party doesn’t have the benefit of Bill’s curated wine selection or Frank’s natural aptitude for hosting.

Cee stares at her plate and pushes her food around, Luke looks slightly green, Ezra glares and takes tense sips from his beer, and Ellie props her chin on her hands and takes it all in with a smile, occasionally asking pointed questions designed to stir the pot. Joel has to kick her under the table twice.

But somehow, they get on the topic of music. As it turns out, Luke plays guitar and writes songs and poetry. And when they settle in the living room to peruse Ezra’s impressive album collection, Ezra is smiling and chattering enthusiastically about some obscure indie punk band from the 90s, and Luke is looking slightly less inclined to flee.

Eventually, Joel excuses himself and tugs at the hood of Ellie’s sweatshirt, nodding toward the kitchen.

“C’mon. Need help with the dishes.”

She rolls her eyes but follows him willingly enough. They stand together at the sink; he washes, she dries. And when the kitchen is clean and it’s clear the other three are still wrapped up in discussion, Joel ushers Ellie quietly outside to let them continue undisturbed. They go to her little garage apartment, and he sits in the chair and she perches, cross-legged, on the bed. They have the kind of conversation they used to before Jackson, when they were on the road and it was just the two of them around a campfire.

She tells him about her art, about Shimmer, about Jesse and Dina’s on-again-off-again relationship. He tells her about the time he and Tommy got caught egging his social studies teacher’s house on Halloween, then immediately regrets it when she asks where she might procure some extra eggs.

And then it’s getting late, and Joel tips his head back and closes his eyes and they drift in a comfortable shared silence. When Ellie speaks again, her tone is soft and thoughtful, almost shy.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said, about Cat and me…I know it’s a different time, and we haven’t had…a lot to look to. But…we have you and Ez.”

“Oh…yeah?” Joel croaks out, trying to sound nonchalant and failing miserably. Ever since Ellie came into his life, his heart might as well be emblazoned in flashing neon pink on his sleeve.

She smirks, fidgeting with the corner of her comforter, eyes downcast. “Yeah. You two set a pretty high bar.”

Joel looks at her, his girl, their girl, and swallows hard around the lump in his throat. 

“I–oh…”

He’s interrupted by the sight of the front door opening back at the house. They watch through the window like nosy neighbors as Cee and Luke emerge onto the porch with Ezra behind them.

“Well, Luke appears to have all his extremities,” Ellie says as Joel draws up alongside her to get a better view, breath fogging the window pane. “And no one’s yelling. That’s a good sign, right?”

“Sure hope so,” he murmurs.

The three of them talk for a minute, then Ezra pulls Cee into a hug, and the young couple turns to leave. Ezra stands on the porch, watching them go with a wave. Then he turns slightly and cocks his head, squinting until he’s looking directly at Joel and Ellie in the garage window. Even at this distance, Joel can make out his partner’s arched brow before he shakes his head and disappears back into the house.

“Oops,” Ellie giggles. “Caught.”

Joel can’t help but laugh a little himself before they’re interrupted by a knock at the door. He goes to answer and finds Cee on the other side, already pink-cheeked from the cold. Luke hangs back, offers a tentative wave from the end of the driveway.

“Hey,” Joel says. “Everythin’ go alright?”

Cee nods, and before he can speak, she’s leaned in and wrapped him in a hug. “Thanks, Joel.”

“It’s, uh…s’no problem. You’re always welcome, y’know. Both of you,” he adds.

He leans in the doorway and watches them disappear around the end of the cul-de-sac. Ellie joins him, tucking herself under his arm in a rare moment of affection, bumping him with her hip.

“Not bad for an old man who’s shit at talking about feelings,” she says.

“There’s hope for me yet,” he agrees.

He says goodnight and returns to the house. Ezra is sitting at the kitchen table sipping a beer, waiting for him.

“Well, out with it, then,” Ezra says, all feigned annoyance, easing back in his chair.

“With what?”

He narrows his eyes. “Oh, surely you’ve earned your ‘I told you so’.”

“I’d never,” Joel smirks. “S’an ‘ugly turn of phrase.’”

“The mark of a gentleman,” Ezra says, thumbnail scratching absently against the ridge of the bottle. “Though I suppose I do owe you a debt of gratitude for helping me see the light, songbird. I was too quick to judge and too harsh in my estimations. Luke is…an acceptable mate for our birdie. As long as he continues to treat her well, I don’t foresee us coming to blows.”

“Let’s hope it don't come to matin’ for a few years yet, either,” Joel says.

Ezra snorts and stands. He wanders to the sink to deposit the dregs of his beer, thoughtful, eyes darkening.

“But if he so much as mars a hair on our young gem’s blonde head, songbird, mark my words…there will be no force in heaven or earth that could save him from the pain I will inflict.”

It’s an all too familiar sentiment. Joel sighs and moves to Ezra’s back, wrapping his arms around his waist and resting his chin on his shoulder. 

“If that happens,” he breathes, letting his lips graze the shell of Ezra’s ear, “I’ll be there with the shovel.”

~*~

The next day, Joel’s evening patrol duty gets cut short by an incoming blizzard, and he comes home early, stomping the fresh fallen snow off his boots, shaking the stuff out of his hair. They’ll be snowed in tonight, but Joel can think of worse ways to spend an evening.

Music drifts from the record player in the living room, something soft; he places it after only a couple of seconds— Songbird . A fire crackles in the fireplace, emitting a soft light and a steady heat that prickles Joel’s wind-burned cheeks. He finds Ezra sprawled on the couch, fast asleep on his back, head pillowed on his arm. His book lays face down and open on his chest, reading glasses having fallen to the floor. His t-shirt has ridden up to reveal a stripe of warm caramel skin and a trailing vine of dark curls peeks over the waist of his jeans, sending a heat up the back of Joel’s neck that has nothing to do with the fire.

That feeling is back, the usual aching want and the new thing, the softer thing he hasn’t named but can no longer deny. He thinks of Ellie’s words and knows instinctively what comes next. He wants this, he wants them , for as long as he has left.

We have you and Ez. You two set a pretty high bar.

Before he can talk himself out of it, he climbs the stairs and goes to the bedroom, heart a frantic staccato in his ears. The little blue box is still in the back of the nightstand drawer. His hand shakes slightly as he pulls it from its hiding place, fumbling to take off the lid, pouring the contents into his palm. The result of a spare moment of exploration on a scavenging run and a whim born of hope, a pair of dark brown eyes, and a cocky, boyish grin.

He clutches it tightly, pausing only for a second to take a breath, steadying himself before he heads back downstairs.

He kneels beside the couch, picking up the reading glasses, folding them carefully and setting them on the coffee table. With the same care, he reaches out and draws a thumb along the crescent scar on Ezra’s cheek, down the line of his jaw, reveling in the familiar scratch of scruff, running over the hidden dimple of his smile.

Ezra stirs at his touch, blinking slowly awake.

“Songbird,” he whispers, a sleepy smile blossoming on his face. “You’ve returned.”

“Hey,” he rasps, throat tight. In the background, the record plays on, the first strains of I know you by heart fill the room. Joel doesn’t know what to say.

“I—“

Ezra waits, patient as always, blinking up at him with a love that makes it hard for Joel to breathe, let alone speak.

“I thought—I found these…a while ago an’ I—“

He’s holding out the offering in a closed fist but he’s so overcome he can’t bring himself to uncurl his damn fingers.

Then Ezra’s hand covers his, gentle but curious, reminding him to relax his grip. He does, revealing two identical gold bands. Joel can’t pull his eyes away from Ezra’s face, hoping to find the answer in the arc of his smile or the tear at his lash line, terrified he will see neither of those things, or maybe terrified he will.

But Ezra doesn’t even see the rings. One fingertip lightly grazes gold, dips in to touch the center of Joel’s palm. Then he’s surging up, hand cupping the back of Joel’s neck and pulling him close, noses brushing, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks.

He shudders a single word against Joel’s lips, sealing the vow and their future with a kiss.

“Yes.”

[insomniamamma]

Threefold: Ezra x F!reader w/Cee

A/N: I am still working on my kiss prompts for @yearofcreation2023. Yeah yeah. I know we are well into 2024. But I am determined to finish these prompts. The prompt for this fic is "Kiss as a lie." This does not connect to any of my other Prospect fics, even though some terms may overlap. Enemies to reluctant allies. Reader is disabled and relies on body mods to assist her breathing. This one really got away from me. like 6K away from me.

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of injuries and medical procedures. Alcohol and drug consumption. Vomiting. Smut but nothing super graphic. Mentions of bodily fluids. This is not my usual Ezra. He is a shit in this one.

 “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t splatter your brains all over this bar.” You jam your thrower into the curls at Ezra’s nape. You watch him in the bleared bar mirror, watch the color drain from his face even as he smiles, starts to turn his head and you dig the barrel of the thrower in deeper, feel your finger tightening involuntarily, your need for vengeance vying with your need for satisfaction, for some sort of answer for what he did, finger curls slightly and releases again, Kevva knows you never expected to see him again, Kevva knows—something cold jams beneath the angle of your jaw and you snap back into the present. The bar mirror shows a slight girl with a halo of pale hair and thundercloud eyes, a small, freckled wisp.  “Put it down,” her voice is soft and steady, “I don’t want to hurt you but I will.”   “Well if this isn’t quite the predicament,” says Ezra, “How but you ease up on the trigger and we talk this out like civilized folk.”  “Your time for talk ended five stands ago,” Your eyes flick towards the bleary girl in the bar-back mirror, “I don’t know what he promised you, kid, but he’ll fuck you over the second it makes sense. You’re what, fifteen stands? When he ditches you on some no-name moon what’re you gonna do?” The barrel digs deeper into the flesh at your neck. Ezra says your name, not darlin or kitten or sweetheart or any of the slew of names he gave you down on The Green, but the one you told him, the one he murmured against the sweaty column of your throat while you arched beneath him, quivered around him, felt like a blessing from his lips as he spilled fever hot inside you.  “I did you wrong,” says Ezra, “You weren’t the first and you certainly weren’t the last, and, if I’m being honest, I did not think on you overmuch—“ The little girl in the warped mirror shakes her head--  “Ez--“ You feel the gun held against your throat tremble.  “But these past stands have not been kind,” says Ezra, “To either of us, I imagine.” His eyes flick up towards your reflection and you know exactly what he sees, and how could he not? Paired auto-breathers clipped to your collarbones, metal and plastic welded to meat in an a scarred seal, ports that can be used for a filter-hookup with the right adapters.  “So what? That’s the Fringe, isn’t it? That’s what you told me then—“  “How, exactly, do you imagine this plays out?” says Ezra, “You kill me, she kills you. Both of us dead here on the deck-plating and what’s the point of it? Revenge? Satisfaction?” You dig the barrel of your thrower into the meat at the nape of his neck, even as his girl shoves her weapon tighter against the angle of your jaw.  “Or let’s say I kill you,” Ezra purrs, and you become aware of a buzzing, like a neglected data pad with incoming message against your inner thigh, but that doesn’t make sense, data pad’s in your left breast pocket and he grins in the mirror, flick your eyes down and damned if he doesn’t have a laser scalpel pressed into the meat of your leg, blood corona already spreading, “Think you can make the shot before I clip your femoral artery? You didn’t crawl out of Bakhroma’s well to bleed out in this dive, did you?”  “Damn you, Ezra. You owe me. You left me to die down there.”  “I did indeed, and if you ease off the trigger for a tick, I can offer your recompense.You think it’s an accident? You and me nested into the same ring? Show her, Cee.”  “Ez, I don’t think-“  “Show her. And I’ll get us some drinks. I think a toast may be in order.”

“You know what we need to do, when we meet up with the others, right?” You cling to him despite the sticky heat of the tent, air thick and heady with the smell of sex, his come smeared between your bellies as you lay half atop him, head on his chest, his arm curled around your shoulder.  “I stay on one,” you say, yawning, drifting as he traces aimless patterns up and down your arm, “You switch to two. Give them the talk. You fake a comms error and go for your channel box. You take the big one and I pick off the leader. The one with the red. Then we get,  we get out of here.” He squeezes you tight as sleep takes you, his heart slow and steady beneath your ear.

 Cee sighs, rolls her eyes, pulls her thrower off your throat.  “Fine,” she says, and reaches for a bag slung at her side. 

 Ezra hails his crew, and hiss of static on your ear when he switches to two, your thrower in hand, trained on the leader, brilliant red plast pauldron over his exosuit, waiting for the signal, for Ezra to go for his channel box, what is he waiting for? He looks animated, smiling through the fog of his helmet, this is wrong, you think, and he turns, thrower in hand and shoots and the world whites out for a tick, your leg collapses under you and when you lift your head there’s Ezra, tucking his thrower back into his holster, the press of his boot against your shoulder rolling you on your back from where you curled around yourself, broken nerves screeching around the path of cooked flesh just above your knee. You know what’s happened, but part of you can’t believe it—  “Help me!” You say, met by the hiss of an open channel, he grabs your trophy case and tosses it to his friend, the big man with the railer he was supposed to kill, leans in and reaches for you and for a moment you think this is all some mistake, something that can be made right and he wrenches your filter out of it’s clip, cuts the hose so it’s you and the dust laden atmosphere.  “Why?” You ask and know he won’t answer, makes a big pantomime of tapping his helmet and shaking his head. Your eyes scrim over with tears, the cooked nerves in your leg screaming a wordless anthem, “Please.” Ezra bows his head but still smiles, presses his gloved fingers to his helmet and  blows you a kiss , that’s the fringe, girl, even with comms cut you can make out the words, and then he turns away, walking off into the brush with his crew. 

 “Carom-burned pearl,” you say, mouth taking over while your brain runs wild, this gem is trash, sure, but the size— “So what?” You drop your thrower back to your hip without even thinking on it. Impossible to tell the quality with the membrane half-burned into the surface, but still—  “Don’t play stupid.” says Cee, “You were on The Green. You know what you’re lookin at.”  “I know that I am looking at a botched pull,” you say, “I’m also looking at a little girl who thinks she’s found a friend way out here in the ass-end of the Great Arm. Did he give this to you, spring-sprite? Spin you a tale of buried treasure? He promise you an even split—“  “60/40. My way. 16th per point garnishment to clear his debt,” she says, “Ezra works for me.”  You laugh, a real one deep from your belly and the intake fans, your intake fans whir faster to make up for the perceived oxygen debt, vibrations through your bones that you can’t seem to get used to even after all these stands,   “Oh, honey, I was gonna kill him, but now I don’t think I will. Think I’ll let you reap the consequences here. Me and Ez? We’re done.”  “It’s the Queen’s Lair,” says Ezra, and you stop cold, half-way up off of your stool, seep back down like your legs have forgotten themselves. “I know. I know you’ll never believe me, but we were there.”  “You just happened on it right? Just happened to drop right down in the place that every fool and their brother went hunting for on that Kevva-forsaken rock.”  “Not me,” says Ezra, “Cee’s father.”  “So why isn’t it him making the pitch?”  “He didn’t make it,” says Cee. And you nod. Spacer’s phrase for a constellation  of mishaps. A blown hull. A dust infection. An altercation in some shit station bar over points or pussy or any number of things. An invitation to not ask. “It wasn’t even really him that found it—“  “Cee—“  “My father was contracted to harvest for Karoclan. Group of mercs found the Lair by accident. Probably digging a shit-pit. We landed bad. By the time we made it to the site it was just me and Ezra, and things got complicated.”  “Complicated.”  “We had to fight our way out. We barely made the sling.”  “You couldn’t do the job,” you say, “And you know I can.”  “That’s not-“  “She never learned the trick and I was trying to cut the blisters weak-handed,” says Ezra, “That’s why we need you.”  “You went back there. Even after all you took from me. You could’ve gone somewhere better with your cut but you didn’t. You got addicted to the rush.”  “I did,” says Ezra.  “Me and Ezra and now you are the only people that know the Queen’s Lair is even real,” says Cee, “We go there, we get a good pull and we can live off it for years. Now that the line’s dead the value’s just gonna go up. We get the pearls and trickle them into the market—“  “How’re we gonna get there with the line dead? No one makes the BG sling anymore. They just route everything around Ikhar and—“  “Got a hot-jumper willing to take us for a cut.” Says Ezra, “We ride the line till just after the Ikhar sling and then unclip and burn. Gets us in orbit in 6 stand months.”  “Risky,” you say, tapping you index and middle fingers against your right breather, vibration passing from metal into bone, a nervous habit born out of a rerouted urge to scratch at the healing skin.  “Yeah. But if we do it right, if we play it smart, none of us will have to drop down some Kevva-shunned well for a hand of points ever again. We can have the lives that sharp-toothed bitch moon took from us.”  “Like you didn’t have a part in it—“ Ezra reaches across the sticky bar and folds your hand in his—

 He grabs you under the arms, woah there girlie, this is bad ground, yanks you back, so focused on the pull that you didn’t feel the ground shifting beneath you, grab your gear and hold it to your chest even as you’re pulled back from the rapidly forming sink-hole in the loamy dirt, draw your thrower and whirl on the stranger, your gear scattered all around your feet. Don’t fuckin touch me.  Is that anyway to talk to someone who just saved your life? What’re you doing out here all alone anyway?   who says I’m alone?  You got crew? Raise ‘em on coms. Yeah that’s what I thought. Gonna get killed out here all alone.

 “I had every part in it,” says Ezra. “The breath of your lungs, Cee’s only living kin, and the arm from my own body. All victim to my greed and stupidity and short-sightedness. I used you and I duped you and robbed you and left you to die and Kevva rightly and thoroughly kicked my ass for it. If not for Cee I would have breathed my last in that forsaken jungle-“ You yank your hand away as if burned.  “You do not touch me,” you say, “We are not friends, we are not lovers. That part is over. Forever. We clear?”  “Clear,” says Ezra, that infuriating little half-smile crawling up his cheek, “That mean you’re in?”  “Maybe.”

 Didn’t realize how loud those fans were gonna be.  Maybe you’d like me to suffocate about it.     Does she ever turn that player off?  Do you ever turn your breathers off?  Not the same.  To her it is.

 What’s with you and her? You aren’t kin. You said you cost her only kin. In that pretty speech you gave me so I wouldn’t shoot you.  That is a complicated and lengthy tale.  We’ve got time.

 “Ezra? I don’t like this.” Cee eyes the blue gel pack in her hand.  “Once the bolts release Jada’s gonna burn hard,” says Ezra, “She’s got mods to deal with the pain and sickness, but we don’t. If we don’t dope down, we’re gonna be in a world of hurt.”  “People’ve died,” you say, and Ezra shoots you a dark look that you give right back, “They go into shock sometimes. Don’t wanna risk that right?”  “It’s not addictive, if that’s what you’re worried about,” says Ezra, “We’ve got a sixteenth to take it and have it work. You go past that and it’s your choice, Little Bird.” Cee’s eyes flick from your face to his, and you wonder how you’ve slipped into caring for this girl, this orphan of Ezra’s making, how you became someone she’d look to in a place of indecision.   “I’ve never hot-jumped myself, but I was crew with a man who was on a prison transport that did,” you say, hoping the grain of truth in the story will be enough to get Cee to chomp down on that gel pack when the time comes. You heard the story second hand on over drinks on Leylan bench, but Cee doesn’t need to know that. “They didn’t bother doping down the prisoners. Guess they didn’t want to spend the points. Aggie said him and most of the others exploded from both ends. It wasn’t nice. Hallucinated on top of that if I remember right. Hot jump fucks with people.”  “Heard some of those tales myself,” says Ezra. “Jada’s a professional. She’s so modded up she can’t handle a drop down a well anymore. She wants her cut we’ve got to be her hands. It’s not in her interest to lead us wrong.”  “We got a sixteenth?”  “Yeah, but how bout we get ourselves secure and do it all together?”   “Okay,” says Cee. The three of your wordlessly prep, following the instructions Jada gave you on boarding. Wear something soft. No jewelry, nothing rigid. These, Jada had flicked a finger against Cee’s music player, are a no-go. The crash beds have plenty of give but I’ve seen people come out the other side with holes in em from fancy buttons on their pants. These gonna be a problem?  Jada eyed your breathers and poked at one with a questing finger. How long’ve you had em? Bout five stands. Should be fine then. Bone’s had time to remodel and deal with the extra mass. You’ll be sore though. You remove the ring your mother gave you before you left the well, remove the studs from your ears, don the softest clothes you have. Cee wears an over sized shirt with Puzo in his space suit, long, coltish legs and bare feet sticking out. Her toenails are painted an alarming sparkly green, and your heart squeezes a little. She may have shoved a thrower into your neck but she is still very much a little girl.   “We ready?”  “This is gonna taste bad isn’t it?”  “Most likely,” says Ezra, “We bite down on a three count, yeah?” Cee scrunches her face, tucks the gel pack into her cheek and you and Ezra do the same.  “Ready? One, two, three-“  “Oh that is nasty-“ says Cee. You crunch down and swallow the drug in a convulsive gulp, bitter medicinal taste beneath something that is supposed to taste like bananas. Not that you’ve ever seen or eaten one.  “That is just—wrong.” You feel sleep sucking at your bones, and you can hear the sound of the hot-jumper’s engine’s spooling up, a bright spike of anxiety tries to lodge itself in your chest, familiar whir of your breathers kicking up as your heart rate rises and then the drugs take you down. 

 Come to with a raging headache,  Ezra and Cee are already awake and at the controls.   “Here,” says Cee and tosses you a pack of stim-chews, “Just do one. It’ll kill the headache.” You crunch one, sickly fruit and bitter and you feel a little more alert, but not in a pleasant way, like remembering the last bits of a long and unpleasant dream, not sure exactly what happened, but there was blood and horror and pressure.  “Something happened—“  “That’s the drugs,” says Ezra, “Telemetry’s good. We’re right down the line. Five by. Took you a little longer to come out of it, that’s all.” You try to sit yourself up, and your pectoral muscles scream, your clavicles ache where the breathers are clipped to them. You must make some sound, because Ezra turns to look at you, those dark eyes locked on you and you want to slap that concerned face right off his skull—  “You okay?”  “Yeah. Gimme a minute. Jada said it would hurt.”   “Should’ve said something, Kitten, I would’ve gotten you a patch—“  “I’m not your kitten, and it’s not your business.”  “You’re right,” says Ezra, “it’s not my business. But we go hot in a sixteenth and I’ll need you sharp. You know what you need to do?”  “Do you?”  “How bout both of you shut up and focus on the drop,” says Cee, “You can fight it out once we’re clipped back in and bench-bound.”  “Fair enough, Little Bird,” says Ezra, “You take the conn, Cee. Your controls.”  “My controls,” echoes Cee.   “Where’s the pain?”   “Clavicles. Achy around the breathers. I don’t think anything’s fractured-“  “Here,” says Ezra. He hands you two pain patches. “Peel these and I’ll stick em.”   “Fine.” You open one patch and then the other, stick them to your fingertips and hold up your hand for Ezra to take them. Scoop your hair out of the way and Ezra smooths the gel-patch on to the join of your neck and shoulder.  “There you go. Let’s get the other side.” His hand lingers, brief and warm and before you can tell him not to touch you he withdraws. “That should keep you creamy until we’re dirt-side. Don’t be shy about takin what you need from the kit. Need you steady downworld, we clear?”  “Clear.”

 This feels nothing like a normal drop, not the warning alarm and dull thump of bolts retracting. Going hot means a hand of solid fuel boosters will push you screaming towards the Green Moon, igniting as soon as the clips let go, push you away from the hot-jumper without slowing, vibration shaking the dropper in a sick two part resonance that hurts your ears and churns your stomach—  “Oi! chute status” Lock your eyes on the jittering screens.  “Bolts are go. Drogues are go. We’re go.” You flip up the toggle guards and hold your fingers above the switches. The thrusters fire and the dropper rocks, flipping itself so the engines face down, watch the numbers on your screen go green and listen for the callouts—  “Heat shield sep!—“  “Tracking?”  “We’re clear! Go for drogue deploy on your mark—“ The switches vibrate beneath your fingers, you feel the vibrations in your skull, in your bones, strange resonance in your ears that churns your stomach, crush your eyes shut so you don’t have to see the way the screens jitter in and out of focus.   “That’s atmo—“ says Cee.  “Blow the drogues in 3..2…1…mark—“ You flip the toggles and lurch forward hard into your harness, and then back into your crash-couch as the landing burn starts. “Where we at—?”  “Transonic,” you say, numbers blearing green on the scope, “we’re green.”  Hook a bag from where its stickied to your seat and wretch into it, smell of fake chocolate half-digested Bitz-Bars and jump drugs. Grav and spin enough to fuck your inner ears, and the engines burn hard,   “Landing gear deploy—“ calls Cee. There’s a hard thump and you’re down and stable but your roiled stomach and pounding skull and tight neck betray you and you dry heave while the others gear up.  “Gimme a minute,” you say, pressing your eyes closed, trying to get some sort of control over yourself, “Haven’t done much well-work since— since—,” heave helplessly over the bag but nothing comes up, there’s nothing too come up. Ezra rests his hand your arm.   “Hey. Look at me—“ You try to lift your head, and the world starts spinning again, too much time station-side, too much time in the gentle, predictable spin of bench-rings, your body’s forgotten the suck of the world on your bones, on your blood on your lungs  “Can’t,” you crush your eyes shut, welcome dark nulling out some of your screaming nerves.   “Okay,” says Ezra in the roiling dark, “Okay, Baby, I need you to breathe real deep through your nose for me.”  “Not your baby—“  “I know,” he says, “Deep breath. Through your nose. One, two, three--“  You breathe in, left over bitz bar chunks making their presence known, irritation followed by something numbing and cool and slightly spicy, you stomach calms but sweat breaks out all over your body--  “Is this even gonna work?” Cee glares, hands on hips, mostly suited.  “Finish kitting up and start scouting the perimeter,” says Ezra, “Stay on two unless I tell you different. We’ll be out shortly.” Cee narrows her eyes, but does what she’s told, seals her helmet and clips her filter and steps through the hatch, brief breeze of equalizing pressure, scrubbers kicking up to deal with the dust as do the fans clipped into you. When the seals cycle Ezra hands you a styrette.   “This’ll kill the nausea. Also you won’t be able to shit for a half-hand or so. It’s intramuscular”  “I’ve given myself hot-shots before,” you slide your pants down and jab the styrette into the meat of your thigh. Ezra’s eyes flick away.  “Cee’s funny about chemical help,” says Ezra, “Her father was an addict you see. He’d dope down and then stim awake and it scares her so-“

 “Let’s just suit up and do the job,” you say, baring your back to Ezra so you can don the compression garments that go under your suit. The suit’s a custom-job to accommodate your breathers, filter clipped into a hose split and spliced three ways, clean air for your breathers to pass on to your dust-scarred lungs, and another than clips in to your helmet. Settle your mic-rig over your ear.  “Channel two how read?”  “Channel two clear,” says Cee.  “Two clear,” says Ezra, odd doubling of his voice through your rig and through your helmet. And then the channel goes dead. Hollow thump of Ezra’s fishbowl pressed against yours.   “Can we do a suit check right quick?” His voice muffled by his helmet and yours, “I think i’ve got it, but I’d like—“  “Turn around.”  “Cee usually—“   “I’ve got it.” He turns his back to you and you lift the loose fabric off the back seal, two twist catches with hook and loop for the outer seal. You tighten the right side catch and smooth everything else into place.  “Thank you,” he says, “You need checks?”  “No, I’m green.”  “They’re still here—“ Cee’s voice loud and overdriven through your rig and Ezra bolts for the hatch. You shove yourself into the nacreous light, Bakhroma hanging above, it’s curve spanning the sky like a diseased rainbow, pulsing through thick clouds and the endless fall of dust.   “They’re dead, Birdie! Look! They’re just bones in suits. They can’t hurt us, okay?” You turn your back on them. Cee’s breath loud and ragged on two.  “Okay,” says Cee, “M’okay—I just”  “What the Kevva be-cursed fuck?” A plast box rises out of the tall grass, curled around in flowering vines inside and out, a skeleton inside seated on a small bench, glints of gold and bones stained a livid, unnatural pink.  “He got back in the box,” says Cee, “Why would he do that? He let us go and then he got back in the box.”  “Karoclan,” says Ezra, “An oblation I suppose.” Your neck prickles.   “Those folk are fuckin crazy,” You press the back of your hand to your helm and push away, palm out, a gesture to dispel bad luck, can’t rightly remember where you picked it up.  “Look,” says Cee,” standing in a bare, cracked circle of dirt, “This is where we boosted from. Must’ve baked out the soil.”  “Hey. Let’s get the pull. We can get all nostalgic once we boost.” Ezra gives you a dark look, but Cee, bounds past and into the trench.   “Ezra,” she says, her voice flat, even over coms. You and Ezra catch up to where she’s frozen, stone still, “He’s still here. Why is he still here? Why are they still here? It’s been almost a stand.” You push past Ezra and examine the sprawled and sagging suit, nudge the boxy helm with you boot, rotted breather hoses crumbling, dust floating up.  “Are you gonna get your shit together or not?” Cee flinches. Glares at you through her fishbowl. Ezra scowls.  “I hardly think—“  “I’m here to harvest,” you say, “And I will harvest, but I am not doing it alone unless you alter the split.”  “You’re out of line, Kitten,” says Ezra, “You seem to have forgotten who’s hired you on for this venture—“  “It’s okay,” says Cee, “I’m okay. Third time pays for all, right?”  “Third time pays for all,” says Ezra, “Clear.”  “So lets dig,” says Cee, “Fuck these guys, right?”  “Fuck ‘em.” you say, “We’re gonna get rich while these fellas feed the bugs for the next stand and change.”

 The kips that came before you exposed the leading edge of the deposit, oxidized crusts shimmering in Bakhroma’s murky light.   “They didn’t prime any of this?”  “They didn’t know to do so,” says Ezra. “That one over there—“ Ezra jerks his head towards a blood colored suit with faux gold adornments glimmering through a twisted clutch of creeper-vines, “Got himself acid burned for his troubles.”  “Dry breach.”  “Something like.” 

 This is no hurried dig, this is no quick pull and boost, Jada has her heart set on atmo-skimming around the outer moons before hooking back up. Trying to break some record. Ezra hovers at first, flitting around the perimeter you’ve established, light poles stabbed into the boggy ground, and then gets drawn in to the excitement of the pull, peering over your shoulders as you and Cee work. Cee is a quick study, follows your instructions to the letter, and between her hands and yours? The size and clarity is like nothing you’ve seen.  “This makes what we got last time around look like pea gravel,” you say.   “We’re going to have a weight issue,” says Ezra.  “Do we stop?” asks Cee.  “Absolutely not,” says Ezra, “We keep pulling and take the highest grade with us. And then we chem-burn what ever we leave behind.”  “That’s crazy!” says Cee.  “Think on it,” says Ezra, “We burn it behind us and no one else can get ahold of these gems ever again. Not at the size and quality we’re pulling.” You split the fibrous outer husk and Cee squeezes in the diffuser without being asked, and you feel yourself smile.  “The scarcity sets the price,” you say, “We’re the only folk who know about this deposit. No one will ever know we scorched it.”  “But all these pearls—“   “No one knows about them,” says Ezra, “Only us and Jada and she can’t ever drop down here herself. And some hot jumper hits a bench blatting about buried treasure on a world they can’t touch? Only ads to the mystique and rarity, and the points in our accounts.”  “Enough to get me into the Academy? You’re laughing,” she frowns at you, “why’re you laughing?”  “Because this is fuck you money,” you say, “We play this right you can probably buy yourself a station-ring or five somewhere in Central. This is do whatever we want forever kind of money if we keep our heads.”  “She’s right,” says Ezra, “We play the long game and there’ll be precious little we can’t do.”  “Still want to go to the Academy” says Cee, peeling the outer husk away just like you showed her and backing off so you can cut the carom blisters, but there is a tub full of the biggest pearls you’ve ever laid eyes on hardening in the fazer.  “And so you shall,” says Ezra.  “You do this one.”  “You sure?”  “You’ve been watching me excise blisters all cycle. Give it a go.” Cee turns the pinkish mass one way and then another, jaw clenched in fraught concentration, trying to grip without touching the blister, the trick is to slide the blade under and cut it free from beneath, go in at the wrong angle and the cillia react, defensive mechanism.   “What’re you gonna study at the academy?” You ask, and her face loosens up some, her hands do the work they’ve been trained in, pulls the inner husk tight and slides the blade under the blister.  “I’m thinking a botany/anthropology double major,” she says, flicks the blister into the weeds like she’s done it a million times before.  “Huh,” you say.  “Interesting combination, Birdie,” says Ezra. “What ties the two together?” Cee slices another blister and flicks it away, brief curl of steam where it sizzles in the grass.  “What doesn’t?” says Cee, “Why do people bring certain plants from one world to the next? You remember the orchard we saw on Verres? Someone planted those trees there. Don’t you wanna know who and why?”  “Guess so,” says Ezra, “It was a bit creepy seeing all those trees in lines. Verres being classed unihabited and all.”  “I’ve seen stuff like that too. Folks’ve been screwing around in The Great Arm for a long time-“  “Hey! Fazer!” Cee barks and you squeeze the fluid into the cut, watch the husk curl and shrink away.   “There she is,” says Ezra and the three of you look at Cee’s prize, held aloft in the murky daylight, Bakhroma’s ruddy arc taking up most of the sky.  “Not the best one we’ve pulled—“  “This one’s mine,” says Cee, snatches the squeeze and coats the pearl before tucking it into her suit pocket, slow smile creeping up her face, “This is my fuck you pearl. We make it out of here and I’ll use it as a paperweight if I get into the Academy.”

 “When you get into the Academy,” says Ezra, and Cee rolls her eyes, and you feel yourself smile a little. You like Cee.   “You should do one, Ezra,” says Cee, “You peel it down and I’ll hold it for you.”  “I don’t think—“  “Give it a go,” you say,  “Get yourself a fuck you pearl.”

 Ezra eyes the exposed deposit, an irregular honeycomb of aurelac pores, dirt darkened to mud, sprayed water from the onboard tanks to rinse away the caustic slime.   “In for a penny in for a pound,” he says, just loud enough for the mic rig to pick up and shoves his arm inside. His breath comes ragged over two.  “Ezra?”  “I’ve got it, birdie. It’s a big one,” he says, and Cee slices through the dirt flecked umbilicus. Ezra cradles his prize like a kitten then sets it on the tray. Cee gives it a good rinse like she’s been trained to, pinches the outer husk and rolls it between her gloved fingers, loosening it up from the inner husk so Ezra can cut.   “It’s thick,” says Cee, “You got wiggle room. We got time. It’s not like before.” Ezra’s breath steadies and he cuts, splitting the fibrous husk, slow, careful movements, beads of sweat popping out on his brow.  Cee peels the husk away, like taking off a sock and you douse everything with the diffuser. Ezra primes the blade, waits for it hit the right setting and then freezes, sharp edge glinting in the ugly light as his hand shakes. Cee wraps her hand around his wrist.   “You’ve got this.”  “Okie. Yeah. Let’s give her a go. Third time pays for all, right?”  “Third time pays for all.”

 One half-stand later…

 Pain is the first thing, deep, sprained ache in your chest, thirst is second, thirst and taste in your mouth and nose like burnt rubber, third is a warm hand holding yours. Squeeze your fingers around a warm palm, around a plastic handle with a button on top that you press and then there’s no more ache, no more thirst, no more light shining blood ugly through your closed lids.

 Later. You come back to yourself. The pain is less and the thirst is more. Slit your eyes and cram them shut, dark blob leaning over you haloed in screaming light, the hand holding yours lets go.  oh, shit, let me douse the lights.  And the bloodshine through your eyelids stops. Blink the tears out, and Ezra’s face resolves out of the dark his face pinched with worry.  “Oh Kevva, I’m dead.” His eyes go big and then he brays laughter.   “Fraid not, Kitten. Might not feel like it right now but the head nurse assured me that you’re healing well.”  You close your eyes, and press the button that will kill the pain.   “Why’re you here?”  “Cee was worried. She keeps tabs on both of us. She couldn’t make it herself, she’s up to her eyeballs in her new school, she tested in and—“ Sleep is calling, the ache in your chest dying to a low hum.  Why’re you really here? not sure if you say it or think it, and the drugs call you down before you can figure it out.

 thirsty.  “Can you sit? I’ve got you.” His arm curls warm around your back and tilts you up, plastic straw pressed against your lip and you drink deep, frigid water against your raw throat.  “Slow sips,” says Ezra, “Don’t want to shock your stomach.” One arm holds you up, a hand offers you a cool drink. You blink your eyes open, confusion  and cool water against your dry  tongue wake you some, close your lips around the straw and drink deep before Ezra snatches it back, plastic bottle gripped in an intricately articulated prosthetic hand, burnished metal plating like the scales on a snake's belly, telltales and indicators winking, etched over with decorative grooves, circles and curves. Looks a bit like a nav map.   “Slow,” he says. You narrow your eyes at him and swish the water around your mouth, trying to wash the dryness, the foul taste away before swallowing.   “You didn’t go for a regrow?” Your voice sounds lower than usual, ratchety. Ezra shakes his head.  “Too much nerve damage for that,��� he says, “Scarring and time passed.” You reach for the bottle and he puts it in your hand  “Slow,”  you say before he can, “I know. Ezra, why are you here? You got your new arm, I got my breathers out and Cee’s got her schooling. We got the agreement set. Third time pays for all, so why are you here?”   “Cause I did you dirtier than that cache of pearls could ever pay for,” says Ezra, “And you shouldn’t be all on your own right now.”   You want to say something back, but you’re so tired, even the act of speaking has made you tired right down to your bones, chest and throat screaming in protest, and your eyes scrim over with tears. One escapes and Ezra strokes it aside with the pad of his thumb.    “I pushed the call button, Kitten, they’ll be here soon.”  “Not your fuckin Kitten,” you say as Ezra folds your hand warm in his, “Not your friend.”  “I know.”  i know.     

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 || 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌. 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐄𝐳𝐫𝐚

pairing: joel miller x f!reader x ezra (prospect)

genre: smut, filth filth filth, minors dni

word count: 2.9k

summary: Joel’s frustrations run deep; to him you were a twisted source of purity, touching you forced him to think, forced him to feel. But not Ezra, with him he could do anything. A scary, yet also exhilarating feeling. Or alternatively: You wake up to Joel and Ezra having sex

warnings: mlm, anal sex, handjob (from reader to ezra), consensual somnophilia, joel being emotionally unavailable but what's new, polyamorous relationship, anal fingering, spit as lube (pls do not try this at home use lube if you have it), mild choking, ez having a praise kink, a bit of feels at the end

a/n: Okay so I feel like some explanations are due-- This oneshot going to be part of the Dark Hearted People series that isn't out yet. (here's a short little drabble i wrote about it if you wanna see) It's coming, and outlines are being made but I got this horny oneshot idea and wanted nothing more than to write it. All the context that you need is given within the fic, but all I'm trying to say more is to come. Way more.

Also, I would like to thank @pedrito-friskito as always who read through this and cheered me on. And a thank you to @write-and-buried who allowed me to scream at her about this and screamed back at me. Love you both 💜💜💜

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It’s a silent night. 

The darkness enveloped him like a cloak, suffocating and heavy. The silence was deafening, a piercing screech that seemed to slice through his very being. He could hear nothing but the faint rustling of the trees, a constant reminder of the desolate wilderness that surrounded him. Joel straightens his back, a crack echoing in the silence. He can hear snores coming from inside the tent. His fingers twitch impatiently against the rifle he holds. An itch, a burning sensation, crawled up his neck, a physical manifestation of his unease.

You’re a silent sleeper. That much he knows. It’s Ezra who’s the loud one. It’s the same when he’s awake, not granting Joel a minute of peace. 

They’ve been on the road for a while now. The tracks of the group they were following disappearing more and more into the wind every passing day. He’s on the everlasting road of questioning what the hell he’s doing here. With these people. You, he can rationalize. He’s known you since Boston. You were reliable, had a joke or two in you that made him crack a smile. 

But the other one? Meeting him was nothing other than a fluke. A mishap. One blind step. That’s all it took for Ezra to sink his tendrils into them both. 

His eyes dart to his watch, a reflexive action. The heaviness that weighs over him is immediate. He doesn't even need to look to tell the time so he hates that he still does. Every time he looks, he hopes that it would have fixed itself miraculously. 

The state of the sky, the position of the stars, all tell him what he already knows. It's Ezra's turn to keep watch. Joel still isn’t sure why you trust Ezra the way that you do—hell, he’s not even sure why you trust him. 

Joel’s knees protest as he stands up, the rifle dangling from his shoulder. 

The inside of the tent is warm, both yours and Ezra’s scent filling the small space. Your sweetness mixes with his earthiness and iron. Joel shouldn’t be able to tell the difference. His heart shouldn’t start beating faster the more he breathes in. His tongue touches his bottom lip, something warm and heavy rolls in his stomach.

He’s halfway inside when his movements still, eyes dropping to Ezra who’s sleeping closer to the entrance. He’s sleeping in a fetal position, knees nearly touching his chest with his hands tucked underneath his head. Ezra’s soft snores are more audible inside. Joel can see the way his chest rises and falls. For a fleeting moment, Joel's mind plays tricks on him and he imagines that moonlight pours from above, illuminating Ezra's sleeping form in a soft glow. 

But there’s not. 

Joel steps inside, the flap fluttering closed behind him. He falls to his knees, watching. The back of Ezra’s shirt is rolled up, showcasing the dimples of his lower back. Even with only a patch of skin, Joel can see the scars. It’s easy to forget that the other man is actually a couple years younger than him.

He’s supposed to wake Ezra up but finds himself nestling closer instead. Joel lays down on his side, softly placing his arm on top of the other’s waist. That’s the only contact he allows himself. His scent is stronger at this distance. His arm raises with Ezra’s body every time he breathes in. Then out. Again, in… and out. A pleasant repeat of motion. 

What you said to him before the night echoes in his mind. You’re not even giving him a chance, you’d said with your hands cradling his face. It’s been a confusing month. The three of you entangled in each other both emotionally and physically. 

During all of those times, Joel never touched Ezra with love. He’d touched him with need, anger, grief. Never love. He just couldn’t. Ezra never said anything. He allowed Joel to take him rough, fuck him deep. The sounds the other made indicated to Joel that he enjoyed it, his moans stifled yet loud. 

The skin above his stomach grows tight, tingling. He feels a devastating tug at his own loins, a pressing reminder of what he needs. His cock twitches, wanting to be buried in that heat once more. Joel’s frustrations run deep; to him you were a twisted source of purity, touching you forced him to think, forced him to feel. But not Ezra, with him he could do anything. A scary, yet also exhilarating feeling. 

Joel cheats his hand under Ezra’s shirt. He traces the pads of his fingers up his abdomen, feeling every puckered scar that decorates his tanned skin. The other man shudders against him, instinctively pushing back to him until there’s no room to breathe. Joel hisses between clenched teeth. He drags his fingers over a nipple, traces the other, and continues to move up. Ezra’s chest heaves, pulse-quickening under Joel’s touch. 

He’s positive that Ezra’s awake now. But that doesn’t stop him from curling calloused fingers around the other man’s throat, squeezing, a warning to stay quiet. Without looking he knows Ezra’s smiling. He hates that crooked smile, the soft hints of amusement he gets in his eyes. 

The image is so vivid that Joel squeezes harder. Ezra’s ass presses firm against him, his cock throbs, hips stuttering forward. 

“Restless night?” Ezra asks, voice heavy with sleep. 

“Just need you to take me,” he grunts, grinding himself into the other. “Don’t talk, I don’t wanna wake her up,” 

“I’ll try but I make no promises. If she rouses from sleep that’s on you,” 

Joel’s hand slides up from Ezra’s throat to his mouth, silencing him. His lips feel soft against the roughness of his palm. His eyes move to you briefly, you’re still sleeping, your back turned. He drags his nose down the column of Ezra’s neck, taking deep breaths, he slips his other hand down Ezra’s sweatpants. Noticing how hard the other is already, he scoffs. Ezra was probably awake since Joel let himself inside. 

Joel’s strokes are rough and hard. The friction makes Ezra tremble, nostrils flaring, moans seeping into the heat of Joel’s palm. He swipes his thumb over the slit, making Ezra jolt. 

“Fuckin’ stay still,” he growls into the other’s skin. Ezra can only nod, shaking as Joel continues to drag his hand over the thick length. Ezra thrusts into his fist, teeth nipping the inside of the hand that covers his mouth. 

His own arousal hard and aching between his legs, Joel pulls back his hand and spits on his fingers. Ezra’s breath hitches at the wet sound, which makes Joel’s cock drip, precome smearing into the fabric of his boxers. One hand still above Ezra’s mouth, he grips the other’s waist and pins Ezra against him, rolling his hips again and again. 

Taking the hint, Ezra pushes down his sweatpants with shaky hands, kicking them down so they bunch around his ankles. With two wet fingers, Joel traces the rim of his quivering hole. He slips them inside, a tight fit, a bit dry. He pulls them out and spits again, Ezra’s groans vibrate against Joel’s skin. Sinking his fingers again, Joel moves them with shallow thrusts. 

“Fuck, so damn tight,” Joel rasps. Ezra’s whimpers become louder, his eyes nervously fixated on your sleeping figure. “You ready to take me?” 

Joel doesn’t wait for an answer and pulls out his fingers, but Ezra nods anyway. They both know what this is. They both know why Joel asks that. He asks it every time. A weak attempt to peel himself away from feeling any kind of remorse for using someone else for his own relief. 

Ezra doesn’t seem to care though. With a curled spine he grinds himself and feels Joel’s shaft, precome sticks to his skin, the movements wetting the other’s cock. His own length aches painfully, heavy between his legs. Ezra watches you, eyes falling to your ass. He wants to grab a fistful of the tender flesh, pull you close, and fuck you as Joel buries his grief into him—

You start to stir, making both men freeze. The fat head of Joel’s cock is notched at his entrance, throbbing as Ezra’s insides threaten to swallow him whole. Joel’s fingers bite into Ezra’s cheeks. Both of them watch you with wide eyes, heads swimming in half arousal and half anxiety. You slowly turn and tuck your hands under your head, closed eyes facing Ezra’s wide ones. 

Joel snaps his hips forward, sinking into the other man’s heat completely. An unwilling groan vibrates in his throat and he stifles it by biting the inside of his cheek. Joel, with his hand firm over Ezra’s mouth, pumps in quick, deep strokes until he feels his legs start to shake. He swears Ezra is trying to suffocate him, suck him dry with how tight he is. The other flutters around him, clenching and releasing his cock as he tries to desperately accommodate his size. 

Tears gather in Ezra’s eyes, he blinks them away, and breathes heavily from his nose. Joel is not a small man by any means, clenching on the thickness. He stretches him wide, the pain mixes with the pleasure, a harmonizing symphony that short-circuits his brain. Joel pushes and pulls, guiding Ezra at his pace. Your sleeping face is blurred to him, the corner of his vision fading to black like a vignette. Joel’s hand slides down to Ezra’s chest, fingers spreading over his heated skin. 

Ezra’s mouth drops open to a gape almost immediately, heavy pants, and silent moans growing loud. Joel’s pacing is fast, cock hitting deep as he rocks his hips forward. He drags his lips down to Ezra’s shoulder, biting into his skin. His sprawled fingers close over Ezra’s nipple, giving it a sharp pinch that makes him hiss. 

Joel’s eyes are glued to you, your eyelids starting to flutter. But he can’t possibly care when the lust fills the cracks of his soul, a faux sense of peace makes his heart swell. He doesn’t care that Ezra’s moans become louder, he doesn’t care when the other wraps his fingers around his cock and starts to despertly fist himself. 

Joel only focuses on himself, his aching cock and need. His skin grows taut over his muscles, movements becoming strained and uncoordinated. He drills into him, balls tight with his fingers imprinting on the other’s skin. 

“S-Shit— Joel,” Ezra gasps, brows pinched together and eyes rolling back. “H-Harder—” 

They both know you are bound to wake up soon.

You feel warmth between your legs. Your dreams coat your skin with a heat that makes it tingle. You hear moans, wet sounds echoing in the tent. You swipe your tongue over your bottom lip. The inside of your mouth is like sandpaper. Is it morning already? 

Your eyes flutter open and Ezra’s face slowly comes into view. He’s groaning and you think it’s because he’s in pain, but when your vision clears up you see reality as it is. 

Your face burns when you see his expression in its full glory; mouth wide open, eyes glazed over with pleasure, brows furrowed as he rocks back and forth. First, you think he’s touching himself, but then there’s a flash in the dark, Joel catching your eyes over Ezra’s shoulder, staring directly at you. There’s something ravenous in his eyes, something that you can only describe as animalistic. He thrusts into Ezra hard when he catches your gaze, knocking the air out from Ezra’s lungs and making him moan right into your face. 

It’s a wanton sound. A choked-out voice that goes straight to your cunt, arousal pools between the plush of your thighs, you’re already wet. Neither of them seems bothered by you. In fact, they seem to be stirred on by it. Joel holds your gaze, only fucking into Ezra harder. The younger man’s eyes are squeezed tight, his cock bobs heavy and dark between his thighs. 

Your pussy pounds between your legs. Your gaze drops to Ezra’s length. It looks delectable. The head a warm flush of red, precum glistening at the tip, begging to be touched. A whine pulls you away from the sight, and you see that Ezra’s eyes are now open—barely, that is. You can see tears filling his lashline, dark eyes observing you between narrowed lids. 

“Little bird,” he moans, wets his lips, and swallows. “Touch me, please,” 

Your eyes move to Joel, he’s not staring at you anymore. With every thrust, you feel Ezra jolt. The urge to touch yourself rather than Ezra is much greater as Joel begins to pepper the other man’s skin with open-mouthed kisses, you see a bit of tongue poking between chapped lips. You’re not sure why, but you feel jealous almost. Joel’s lips are a form of blessing, something he did as a reward, be it done consciously or not.

With little hesitation, you wrap your fingers around Ezra’s shaft. The man’s head falls back, his hips stuttering in an almost manic way. Coming closer, you close your lips around his trembling adam’s apple, kissing a path that goes all the way to his parted lips. You slip a tongue. Groaning into his mouth, you swipe your palm over the head and smear precome down his length. Every time Joel rocks into him, he buries himself further into your fist. 

It’s so intimate seeing Ezra like this. Pleasure is good on everyone, and to be witnessing it in its full glory makes you want to string him along the edge as long as you can. Sweat coats his face and you feel a tremor in his thighs. He’s completely powerless. You suck on his tongue, lick yourself into his mouth, and nip at his bottom lip. The sounds he makes are unfiltered, debouched. 

You stroke him faster, harder. Wet noises echo from your palm, a sticky mess between your bodies. You’re breathing jaggedly into eachother’s mouths, you squeeze the base of his cock and he gasps. 

“Are you gonna come for us?” you ask into his mouth, a heavy drop of precum slides down your knuckles, making you smile. “Such a good man,” 

Ezra’s reaction to your words is visceral. With a newfound eagerness, he molds his lips into yours, again and again, he sucks the air from your lungs. You press your legs together, hips rocking in a weak attempt for friction. 

Suddenly Ezra’s entire body seizes and he parts from you with a sharp gasp. You don’t need to look to see but you do so anyway. His cock throbs and twitches in your palm, he spills over your fingers, come seeping into the fabric of your shirt. You continue to stroke his oversensitive shaft, your gaze finding Joel’s. 

Joel fucks himself deeper into Ezra, pushing all three of you closer together. You lean towards him, and he licks the seam of your lips before indulging in you fully. Ezra continues to sway back and forth with Joel’s thrusts, you continue to glide your hand over his cock, short pants, and hisses falling from Ezra’s lips. 

Joel’s hips stutter, spilling into the younger man as he flicks his tongue over yours, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth. You let out a sharp hiss when he sinks his teeth, he doesn’t draw blood but the sensitive flesh throbs like he has. Joel feels the warm drip of his own release trickling down, the sensation making him thrust deeper.

You’re aching for them both. A hunger crackling over your skin and warming your neck. Joel doesn’t pull out, soft growls trembles in his chest, hands moving down and squeezing Ezra’s hip. The latter is on the verge of blacking out, his breathing uneven, eyes glossed over. 

Bur despite it all, Ezra manages to move closer to you. He nuzzles your chest, teeth tiredly nipping the swell of your breasts. 

“That was quite the way to wake up,” you murmur, your need to comfort Ezra pushing you to cord your fingers within his short hair, damp with sweat. 

Neither of them answer. Ezra smiles into your skin while Joel averts his gaze, finally pulling out and uncaringly cleaning the mess he made with the first thing he found. 

The minutes later Ezra pulls himself together, leaving the tent with wobbly legs and exhaustion in his eyes. Joel shows his true colors then, pulling you close and laying his chin over your head. He cups your ass with both hands, kneading the muscle. 

“Do you want me to?” he asks, guiding your hips into a sloppy roll. He’s still soft. 

You shake your head, “No. I just want us to rest,” 

Joel nods but continues to touch you. You didn’t lie. The thing the most of you need is rest—but you allow him to do as he pleases. You say nothing when he pushes a hand beneath the band of your panties, sliding two fingers up the wet seam of your slit. A satisfied sight leaves your lips. 

Joel has a habit of thinking he’s unreadable, but over the months you can say that you know him fairly well. What he can take from Ezra, he can’t from you. You know that. Ezra knows that. Joel is the only one who isn’t aware just how abundantly you two know him. Not that it matters. 

You just want him to let go. Allow himself to feel without remorse. 

A dream that will probably never come true. 

[wannab-urs]

Written in the Stars - You Caught Me

Pairing: Din Djarin x Ezra (Prospect)

Series summary: The Mandalorian takes a job unlike any he’s ever had before. Driven by his guilt over working for the Empire, even indirectly, and the strange bond he formed with the man, Din rescues his bounty. What follows is not something either of them ever expected.

Chapter summary: Ezra awakes, suffering from an infection, to find he has been captured by an armored man.

Warnings: The Mandalorian/Prospect crossover AU, canon-typical violence, season 1 rewrite, eventual smut, slow burn, eventual romance, Ezra being a menace (verbally), non-sexual bondage, discussions of wound care and infection and other medical shit, very brief thoughts about Mando being hot. WC: 3.3k

a/n: I'm still not super confident about this fic, but I really hope yall like it. Cover collage by @atinylittlepain, betad by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin and @beskarandblasters, dividers by me and @saradika-graphics

Ezra Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi

Arvala-7

Din lands and checks that his tracking fob is blinking fast enough. The bounty is here.

He lowers the ramp to the razor crest and strides out onto the cracked and dusty surface of Arvala-7. He checks which direction to go before using the scope of his amban rifle to scout his surroundings. He catches sight of two blurrg in the distance, odd looking but seemingly harmless.

As he turns to scope out the area to his left, a blurrg suddenly appears at close range. Din tries to take it out with his flame thrower, but the bastard catches his entire arm in its mouth, slamming him to the ground. He gets repeatedly smashed into the ground and slung in the air, feeling as if his arm may rip clean off. He punches the blurrg with his left hand, throwing as much weight as he can behind it. The creature lets go, but immediately charges him again.

Just in time, a dart lands in the creature’s side, sending a shockwave through its body and rendering it immobile. As another blurrg makes its way toward Din, who is trapped beneath the first one, it is hit by another dart.

An Ugnaught rides up to Din on yet another blurrg – this one seems tame, thankfully.

“Thank you,” Din pants.

“You are a bounty hunter,” the Ugnaught states.

“Yes.”

“I will help you. I have spoken.”

Din gets up and follows the Ugnaught to his farm, which is not far from the ship.

The Ugnaught makes tea as he speaks with Din.

“Many have passed through. They seek the same one as you.”

Din did not know there had been others before him. He wonders if there are others competing with him now.

“Did you help them?”

“Yes. They died.”

“Well, then I don't know if I want your help,” Din scoffs.

“You do. I can show you to the encampment.”

Considering his lack of knowledge of the terrain and his lack of suitable transport across this wasteland of a planet, Din supposes that would be helpful.

“What's your cut?”

“Half.”

“Half the bounty to guide? Seems steep,” Din shakes his head.

“No. Half of the blurrg you helped capture.”

“The blurrg? You can keep them both.” Why would he want a kriffing blurrg?

“No, you will need one. To ride. The way is impossible to pass without a blurrg mount.”

“ I don't know how to ride blurrg.”

“I have spoken.”

Taming a blurrg proves more difficult than Din expected. After she throws him to the ground an absurd number of times, Din finally manages to gain the creature’s trust. He hikes his leg over her back and takes her for a ride.

Shortly after, the Ugnaught leads Din across a cracked maze of muddy land – canyons have formed between the sections of cracked dirt that only a blurrg can jump over. They come upon a compound crawling with mercenaries, who all appear to be armed to the teeth. Din spots a blaster cannon and at least 60 men. Who is this bounty?

An IG unit stands in the middle of the fray, firing away and screaming about some code or other. Din grumbles about competition, his hopes of being the only hunter on the job dashed. And by a droid, no less.

Din drops to the edge of the makeshift battlefield.

“IG Unit! Stand down.” The droid shoots Din in his new pauldron, flinging his shoulder back painfully. “I'm in the Guild!” Din yells.

The two duck out of the way of a volley of blaster fire and hide behind a pillar.

“You are a Guild member? I thought I was the only one on assignment,” the droid sounds annoyed, if that’s even possible.

“That makes two of us. So much for the element of surprise.”

“Sadly, I must ask for your fob. I have already issued the writ of seizure. The bounty is mine.”

“Unless I'm mistaken, you are, as of yet, empty-handed.”

“This is true.”

Din fires a few shots from behind his cover, taking out three of the mercs.

“I have a suggestion.”

The IG unit takes out several men from the top of the compound, their bodies falling to the dirt below.

“Proceed.”

“We split the reward.”

“This is acceptable.”

“Great. Now let's regroup, out of harm's way, and form a plan.”

There are way too many of them and Din wants to act as if they’ve given up so they can take the mercs by surprise that night. The bounty droid has other things on its mind though.

“I will of course receive the reputation merits associated with the mission.”

“Can we talk about this later?” Din fires off a few shots with his amban rifle, evaporating several mercs in the process.

“I require an answer if I am to proceed.”

The mercs advance on their position, pinning them in a corner with no way of escape.

The IG unit starts freaking out. He claims he cannot be captured and initiates a self-destruct sequence.

“Do not self-destruct! Cover me!”

Din runs to the door panel and tries to rip out the wiring, but quickly starts taking fire.

“There’s too many!”

“I will initiate self-destruct”

“Do not self-destruct! We’re shooting our way out.”

The mercenaries power up the blaster cannon and start firing at Din and the IG unit.

“Okay! New plan!”

“Beginning self-destruct countdown.”

“NO! Draw their fire and I’ll take it out.”

The IG unit runs out taking several hits and collapsing against the structure behind him. Din uses his grappling line to jerk the cannon out of the merc’s hands and shoots him before jumping on it and taking out every last mercenary in the vicinity.

Din goes to check on the droid. “Ya know… You’re not so bad. For a droid.”

They use the blaster cannon to get inside the large metal door, since ripping out the wiring hadn’t worked. Din takes out one last mercenary and starts searching the room for the bounty.

Din comes up on a man sleeping on the floor. He’s covered by a pile of ragged blankets and there is a bloodstain on the floor beside him.

“Well. They said 40 years old.”

“This does look to be our target,” the droid quips.

IG raises his blaster as if to shoot the sleeping man.

“No. We'll bring him in alive.”

“The commission was quite specific. The asset was to be terminated.”

He raises his blaster again, but Din is faster. Before the IG unit can even register his movement, there’s a hole in its head.

“Droids…” Din grumbles.

Din aims his blaster at the man and yanks back the blankets covering him. Din is stunned to find the man is missing his right arm, nothing more than a stump ending just below his shoulder. He briefly wonders if a blurrg got him.

Din toes him with his boot, keeping his blaster trained on him. The man doesn’t wake up. Din kicks him a bit harder and he still doesn’t stir, so he picks the man up and heaves him over his shoulders. He carries the man out to the blurrg the Ugnaught let him keep and ties him to its back like a saddlebag.

It’ll be a long walk back to the ship.

Ezra wakes up and realizes he is definitely not in the compound anymore. He’s very securely strapped to some sort of creature. A man clad in what looks like a helmet made of pure silver aims a rifle at two assailants and takes them out easily, evaporating them into nothing but scraps of fabric.

Barring an equally shiny pauldron, the rest of his armor is varying shades of red and brown – like rust. It’s quite the contrast and makes him appear like a rusted tin can.

The silver warrior doesn’t notice Ezra has woken up yet. Ezra reaches out with the Force, trying to get a read on the man’s intentions, but feels only his urge to protect. Until he knows what situation he’s found himself in, he thinks it’s best not to reveal himself and promptly slumps back into the beast, pretending to sleep.

Sometime into pretending, he does actually pass back out, the fever making it difficult to stay conscious for long periods of time. When he awakes, they have made camp for the night.

His arm is tied to his thigh, but he’s no longer strapped to that infernal animal. The warrior appears to be tending to a shoulder wound. If he could trust him, he would heal the man, but he is as yet unsure if this man is going to be his salvation or his damnation. All the same when he was probably going to die of infection anyway.

“Looks like a nasty wound, Tin Can,” he mumbles. His voice is rough from disuse. “I am well acquainted with grievous arm wounds.”

The silver helmet whips in his direction, the black visor leveling with his own stare. He thinks the Tin Can looks annoyed, somehow, despite the helmet.

“Quiet,” the man grumbles, his voice low and graveled.

“Name’s Ezra. And I am not inclined to suffer demands from my captor. Are you taking me back to the Imps?”

The Tin Can doesn’t answer, he simply returns to cauterizing the deep cut on his arm. Ezra takes that as his cue to turn in for the night. He adjusts his position as much as he can in his bound state and falls into another fitful sleep.

Ezra wakes up again and finds himself tied to the creature once more. The armored man has his rifle out and is disintegrating Jawas left and right. The little creatures are loading bits and pieces of a ship into their crawling fortress.

“I don’t think that’s very smart, Tin Can. Won’t ever get your shit back now.”

“Quiet.”

His captor is rude and clearly doesn't like chatter. Maybe Ezra can talk himself out of this kidnapping.

The Jawas quickly load into their land crawler and take off, the warrior right on their heels. He jumps up onto the ladder on the side of the crawler.

Ezra takes off on the creature he’s tied to – it seems to have taken a liking to him – and follows along behind the crawler at a gallop. He watches his captor nearly get slammed into a rockface, but he quickly pulls himself onto a ledge on the crawler.

He’s quite agile for someone covered in armor, Ezra thinks. The Tin Can is very capable indeed, scaling the side of the crawler first with only his hands and then with a grappling hook, all while being bombarded with random objects and shock batons. He makes it to the top of the crawler, despite his grappling hook being violently removed from the ship, and Ezra thinks he may actually succeed in reclaiming his ship parts from the Jawas.

A mere moment after the warrior crests the top of the crawler, he tumbles to the ground. Ezra fears the man may be dead. He isn’t sure why he’s worried, this man is his captor after all. Maybe it is something to do with being tied to a strange creature in the middle of a desert on a pretty unfamiliar planet.

Just then, the Tin Can gets back up. Resilient that one. He shakes off the fall and stomps across the wasteland and right past Ezra, simply expecting him to follow – which he does.

The armored man drops from the cockpit, entirely ignoring the ladder.

“Stripped. They kriffing stripped it.”

That’s the most words Ezra has heard from his captor since their journey together began. The anger he feels is so palpable to Ezra, he can almost taste its bitter tang.

“Will it fly?”

“No,” the man opens what looks like a storage cabinet to find it empty as well. He slams the doors closed angrily.

“So what are we going to do?”

“I am going to get my shit back. You are not going to do anything.”

The man is finally speaking in full sentences, albeit rude ones, and Ezra kind of wants to keep him talking. His low, graveled voice is quite appealing.

“Okay, Tin Can, how do you plan on recovering your items?”

“Stop asking questions. And stop calling me tin can.”

“You have not provided me with any other name by which to call you, my dear captor.”

“Mando. Call me Mando.”

“Alright, Mando. Lead the way.”

Mando suggests they walk to a farm nearby, where he knows someone that can likely help. Ezra lets himself be lifted back onto the creature, his body growing weak from all the excitement.

“Are you sick?”

“I fear I’ve contracted an infection from my emergency field surgery.”

“I have bacta. Had bacta. When we recover it, I’ll give it to you.”

“Why?” Ezra isn’t usually one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but his captor wasting such an expensive item on a bounty seems strange.

“You’re worth much more alive.” Ah, an investment then. That makes sense.

“Fair enough.”

Chants of “Suka! Suka! Suka!” drag Ezra from the black depths he was floating in. He slowly orients himself. He is on a sled mounted to two of the strange beasts he’s become very familiar with. His arm is once again tied to his thigh. An Ugnaught sits cross legged before a crowd of Jawas, Mando next to him – again managing to look exasperated despite not showing his face.

Mando stands and strides over to Ezra. “Good. You’re awake. Get on the crawler.”

“Where are we going?”

“The blasted creatures want a mudhorn egg.”

“This is going to go very poorly, you are indeed aware of that, I presume?”

“I’ll manage.”

Mando reaches down and pulls Ezra to his feet, maintaining a grip on him as they head into the crawler, the Jawas still chanting the entire way to the mudhorn lair.

Mando is much too large for the Jawa sized cockpit. He fills the space up quite nicely, in Ezra’s opinion. He does let slip a giggle when Mando’s shiny helmet slams into the ceiling during the bumpy ride, earning him what is certainly a withering glare.

Mando brings Ezra with him for some unknown reason, but leaves him tied up. It’s not like he’ll be able to help much, but he supposes the hunter doesn’t want to leave his bounty unattended.

Mando sloshes through the mud to the opening of the mudhorn’s cave. Ezra stays at the back of the valley, refusing to get any closer to certain death. Mando checks all of his weapons before stalking into the darkness.

Several minutes later, Ezra hears four rounds of blaster fire, quickly followed by Mando flying out of the cave and landing on his back.

“Ah, she’s awake then,” Ezra quips to no one. Mando is certainly not listening.

Mando tries for his rifle, the one that disintegrates entire beings into ash, but it appears to be jammed. So, Ezra surmises, we’re fucked. While he’s busy kriffing around with the rifle, Mando gets rammed again, flying almost to the back of the valley where Ezra stands.

The mudhorn observes his unmoving form and charges at Ezra instead. Shit. Ezra waits until the heifer is nearly on him and then dives out of the way. His landing is hard, with no arms to break his fall, but he’s okay.

The beast turns on Mando again, who has just started to stand, and smashes him into the ground with its horn. While flames and grappling hooks fly, Ezra wedges the prongs of the discarded rifle under his ropes. He wiggles back and forth, trying to break the tie as Mando gets dragged around by his grappling line.

Ezra’s ropes snap just as Mando gets thrown across the valley once again. That armor must be incredibly strong. Just as the mudhorn sets off toward Mando for the killing blow, Ezra concentrates. He draws on the energy around him and lifts the mudhorn into the air without so much as touching it. He holds it up for a moment and then, closing his eyes, slams it down into the ground as hard as he can.

Mando dives forward with his vibroblade and jams it into the neck of the stunned creature. He drives it as deep as possible, funneling the rage that built up over the course of the battle into his blade before dragging it out of the mudhorn and sheathing it.

Ezra slumps to the ground, completely exhausted. Mando limps over to him, his cuirass completely destroyed, but otherwise seemingly intact.

“You could have done that the whole time?”

“Firstly, I was bound and needed use of my hand. Secondly, I had to exact some form of revenge for capturing me, but I do not wish to see you dead.”

“Why not?”

“You killed all of my protectors. I am alone on this planet and you’re my only way off it,” Ezra says weakly. His consciousness is fading fast. Mando pulls him to his feet, pulling his arm over his shoulder, and half drags Ezra back to the crawler.

Din lays Ezra on the sled, passed out completely. Din and the Ugnaught load up all of his gear as the Jawas devour the egg. All that work for a stupid egg.,

Once everything is loaded up, the three make their way back to Din’s ship.

“Is he still sleeping?”

“Yes.” Din was worried that Ezra had pushed himself too hard and gave him the bacta shot as soon as he had his hands on it.

“Was he injured?”

“No. Not physically. But he had an infection from removing his arm.”

“Explain it to me again, I still don’t understand what happened.”

“Neither do I.” He’s never seen anything like it.

Mando and the Ugnaught spend all night repairing the ship while Ezra sleeps in Din’s bunk. He can’t put him in carbonite with the still healing wound of his stump. He would almost certainly die.

“Good luck with the bounty. May he survive and bring you a handsome reward. I have spoken.” The Ugnaught nods sagely and takes off on his blurrg.

Ezra wakes up in a dark enclosed space, the chill indicating he’s on Mando’s ship. He feels better than he has in weeks, though the mat he’s sleeping on is not much better than the pile of ragged blankets he’d called a bed for several standard weeks.

Ezra stands, steadying himself before feeling along the wall for a way to open the door. His hand finds a button and the door whooshes open. He climbs out into a small space. He’s been here before, the cargo hold of Mando’s ship. It’s crowded with crates, without much room to walk around. He spies the ladder to the cockpit and assumes Mando will be up there.

He very carefully climbs the ladder, still learning how to do things with his off hand, and pokes his head into the cockpit. Mando sits in the pilot’s seat in front of three transparisteel screens that make up the front of the ship. A massive console fills almost half the room up to where Mando sits. There’s a jumpseat behind and to the right of Mando that Ezra decides to make his own.

���No bounties in the cockpit,” Mando grumbles as Ezra plops into the seat, but he makes no move to remove him.

“Shouldn’t have left me untied then, Tin Can.”

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

“You insist on behaving like a rusted old sod and so I will refer to you as one.”

Mando doesn’t answer, so Ezra begins telling a story about channel rats in one of his ships. He unscrews a metal ball from a handle as he does so and begins to levitate it around the cockpit.

“Put that back. Don’t touch anything.”

Ezra simply pings the ball off Mando’s silver head, chuckling, and resumes telling the man about killing channel rats.

@beskarandblasters @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @electriclasso @schnarfer @alltheglitterandtheroar @survivingandenduring @catchallfangirl @nerdieforpedro @yorksgirl @heareball @morallyinept @jksprincess10 @julesonrecord @atinylittlepain

[freakrenaissance]

FANFIC REC MASTERLIST!!!!!!!

It's gonna be quite the undertaking....it'll probably take me a few weeks...but I thought I'd use the remainder of Valentine's Day for a true labor of love.

Still plugging away!!! Thanks so much to all who have liked & reblogged this monster of a list! I won't stop til all my faves are saved here...these masterpieces deserve it! (Check the bottom of the post for the date/time of latest update)

I'm gonna start categorizing alllll the juicy fanfic I'm collecting, so it's easier for me & my tribe to finds what we needs.

The artistry. My goodness. The hellsite we're all addicted to doesn't always show us the goods (tags, searches...you're still left wanting), so, it's high time i created my own card catalogue

I'm going to tag all my lovelies, my faves, & try to categorize them accordingly. Bear in mind, I'm NOT Tumblr savvy, even though i've been on this site for YEARS, so if you take issue with anything, please, POLITELY let me know. Also, if you don't wanna be a part of my lists, feel free to shoot me a message, & I'll remove ya, np ;)

Enjoy!!! & Please, like, share & REBLOG!!!!!!!! & remember: HEED ALL WARNINGS! ALL FICS ARE RATED E, UNLESS OTHERWISE INDICATED

THERE BE BOTH SMUT & FLUFF AHEAD....IF YOU'RE HERE, YOU SHOULD BE OVER 18!!!!!!

Pedro Pascal Characters

Pedro is my love. Has been since before that dark day In King's Landing ...These are the fics that I can't live without:

The Mandalorian/Din Djarin

Fic Rec Lists:

Din - @amorevolousfaith

First Class to Tatooine - @mandosmistress

multi part fic that has made the wait for season 3 an absolute JOY! Fills in every gap in the most delicious ways

Look - @omgreally

one shot - Touch-starved din, making me weak

Dosed - @absurdthirst

one of my all time favorite sex pollen fics!!! sooo delish

Hard Candy - @ezrasbirdie

possessive, bodyguard Din. Need i say more?

You became all the things I wished for, all the things I hoped - @charnelhouse

This entire series! Domestic din at his FINEST

Shared (ft. Paz Vizsla) - @javier-pena

delicously depraved, & exactly where i wanna be. lil dark...mind your warnings. but, omg, what a fave,,,,i've read this so many times! lol

Tattoo My Heart - @mandosmistress

I loooove this fic! our favorite bounty hunter, getting all tatted up & being sexy...I've read this countless times...definitely a fave

i’ve flown too close to the sun - @charnelhouse

One of my all time favorite Din series! That's it. That's the rec. Go check it out immediately!!!

Tie Me Up, Hold Me Down - @mandosmistress

younger din, showing off his knot-tying skills. Dominant & delish

Ner Yaim (My Home) - @dindjarindiaries (G)

A rare bit of fluff. Domestic DIn is my jam...this is adorbs

Carry Me To Safety - @221bshrlocked

More of Din & a lil lactation. this is a series, & I highly recommend going back & reading the whole thing (I'm about to start it all over again) this gem has it ALL

Lord Mandalore - @babybugwrites

Teasing the king in public...ill advised :) Smut ensues. Sign me up!!!

Chemical Feelings - @absurdthirst

One of my all time favorite sex pollen fics! (I should probably just make a whole sex pollen list lol)

Bred - @absurdthirst

One of the best Alpha Din fics in the galaxy. Including shenanigans from our favorite lil baby green bean.

Stuck - @omgreally

Trapped in a small space with our bounty hunter. What's the opposite of claustrophobia? This is one of my faves to reread right here

Marcus Moreno

Frankie "Catfish" Morales

Take Care of You - @whiskeynwriting

Edging Frankie. Sooo perfect

View - @say-al0e

Long distance lovin with Frankie

Ezra (Prospect)

A Girl Walks Into a Bookshop (T) - @oonajaeadira

Bookshop owner Ezra. I think thats nuff said <3

Jack "Whiskey" Daniels

Oberyn Martell

Marcus Pike

Pizza Comes Third - @whataperfectwasteoftime

Marcus finds your nipple clamps at work...then dreams come true lol,,,i love everything about this gem

Good to Know - @221bshrlocked

New Boyfriend Marcus. Size & age difference kink...sooo sweet!

Javier Pena

Dieter Bravo

A Little Like Strip Poker - @mandosmistress

DIrty, & delicious Dieter at his FINEST! The first Dieter fic I ever read, & still one of my faves

Hubris - @javier-pena

A lil hate sex with asshole Dieter. I adore this (every) version of him

In The Script - @the-fic-baker

Running lines with cocky, asshole Dieter. Love this! lol

Measurements - @boliv-jenta

Working on set with asshole Dieter...Gotta go reread every part of this!

Mr. Ben / SNL Pedro

Maxwell Lord

Joel Miller

"The Thief"

Pero Tovar

David York

'Aw, why are you shy now?' - @danidrabbles

I think this was the first time I ever read a Dave fic, & Omg, i was instantly hooked. So intense & delish

Javier Gutierrez

Chris Evans Characters

Oh, Chris. Yes, captain, my captain. It truly is America's ass :) These fics vary in their intensity...be forewarned. There's something very saucy about seeing the golden boy all tarnished ;)

Steve Rogers (AU)

Silent Whispers (i) - @bonky-n-steeb

Lumberjack Alpha!Steve. I need him to be real :P Completed trilogy!

Captain America

Curtis Everett

Ransom Drysdale

Ari Levinson

Lloyd Hansen

Andy Barber

Chris Evans RPF

Sebastian Stan Characters

The winter soldier is the part of a lifetime...but i'm still salty that the mcu stole him from once upon a time. He was a sexy ass mad hatter. gotta find all the jefferson fics!!!

Bucky Barnes / The Winter Soldier

honey, there is no right way (i) - @bonky-n-steeb

Sugar daddy, mob AU Bucky. This has so many layers of awesomeness, I can't even begin. Just go read it :)

nothing holding me back - @bonky-n-steeb

Alpha Bucky being sooo sweet & sexy! Roomies in Love!!!

A Proper Welcome - @navybrat817

More Alpha Bucky, with a special guest...this is one of my faves!

no sweeter innocence - @bonky-n-steeb

Another fave! Dom Bucky corrupting Tony's daughter....sooo yum!

Dinner and Diatribes - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

A dark, regency AU for your pleasure..this is a stunning series!

Whiteout - @dilemmaontwolegs

Oh, to get stuck in a storm with Bucky Barnes...Let it snow, baby!!!

Make You Mine - @bonky-n-steeb

Alpha Bucky, all emotionally wounded...until he takes what he deserves. omg, I love this fic!

None Like You - @bonky-n-steeb

Football (soccer) player bucky, being all dominant in the locker room. this baby is delish. & i love his character in this!! It's a series...settle in :)

I'm a Fiend & You're All I Need - @bonky-n-steeb

Getting hubby Bucky to go harder...an embarrassment of riches lol Dominant Bucky deliciousness

Nick Fowler

Trust Me - @navybrat817

A lil Dominant Nick, with a sprinkle of feels. SO delish

Jefferson / The Mad Hatter

Oscar Isaac Characters

Mercy. I fell in love with this marvelous actor before i even knew what he looked like! I still can't believe he was apocalypse in x-men. & then you get a look at him?! Good gravy. Him & my hubby pedro together. My dreams have come true.

Poe Dameron

Santiago Garcia

Tom Hiddleston Characters

This one was a sleeper lol...out of nowhere he attacked me with those cheekbones & that accent....very friggin Loki

Loki

Jurassic Park Characters

One of my first fandoms EVER! I cut my teeth on dinosaurs, just like a normal kid....then things got nastay! lol Sometimes i'm in the mood for the OG, sometimes i want Owen & Claire. Here's a collection of my faves.

Owen Grady & Claire Dearing

Maisie Lockwood

Alan Grant & Ellie Satler

Ian Malcolm

Bridgerton

Doctor Who (These will mostly involve my river)

Right Person, Wrong Time - 11 x River Song - @mnemosyne-musing

Sugar Baby with Your Champagne Eyes - 12 x River Song @mygalfriday

Miscellaneous Characters:

My Love is Vengeance - Bruce Wayne- @charnelhouse

(more coming sooooooon. gtg back to orders, & i'm very tired. stay tuned for more updates!!!)

4:59am est 02/15/23 - started

10:00am est 04/06/23 - last updated