#i have so many thoughts about this actually but its 1am and i need to be up at 7 and ive had a few beers and i am not able to adress them

[keirametzbrassknuckles]

I do think it's funny though that writing isn't really thought of as something that has "sketches" or "warmups". You're either writing a completely fleshed out original story or you're failing at being a writer.

[aireia]

Am I the ocean you dream of? -- Nanami Kento

tw/cw: gn! reader, angst angst angst, hurt no comfort, nanami's dead.

note: it's almost 1AM. —masterlist

The sound of whirring engines and conversations filled your ears. You leaned back on your seat and looked out the window, the clouds are unhappy today. A sigh left your lips, and you flipped open the small book in your hand. Well, book wasn’t exactly the right word. It was more of a journal, a diary, even. More specifically, the diary of your late lover, Nanami Kento.

Your eyes scanned over the neat cursive handwriting you would’ve recognised in a room stacked to the brim with papers, and you closed your eyes, then tried to remember how you got here in the first place. 

Ah, there it was. You remember how empty you felt the few weeks after the Shibuya incident. You should have convinced him harder to not go, but you knew what he was like. If he is needed, he will show up, even more so because the students were there. Your eyebags were heavy and your movements were sloppy around the apartments as you cleaned through some of the things Nanami owned, and you came across a book with a leather cover, the one you’d always see him write in at night. 

You knew it was an invasion of his privacy, but curiosity got the best of you. You turned the cover and for minutes, you just stood there, staring at the words on the first page. There was nothing there, just his name, and a date. The date of your anniversary, that is. You couldn’t help but wonder if he had started a new book because it symbolised a new chapter of his life with you, or that he had run out of pages in his old journal.

You flipped to the second page, and there it was. “I bought roses to confess to y/n today.” You gulped as you continued reading. “They’re currently asleep on my couch. I’ll leave them something to eat tomorrow because I need to head out early.” 

You could feel the tears welling in your eyes as you continued reading, and one specific page caught your eye. 

“Maybe I’ll bring them to Malaysia for a holiday. Kuantan seems like a good place.”

Right. He’s talked to you about it before, and the last time he’s mentioned it was a while before he got busy with work, always coming home with different bruises and injuries. Hell, he even told you that he thought about moving there with you.

And here you are now, on a seven hour flight from Japan to Malaysia. Your tired eyes continue scanning over the words, and now you aren’t sure whether you’re just staring at the words or actually reading, because you’ve found yourself reading Nanami’s diary at night when you’re unable to sleep. The thoughts you’ve read inside were all things he’d whisper into your ear at night, and those nights you’ve had the book in your hands as you read through, a faint voice of his remains at the back of your mind, as if he were the one reading to you instead.

There was one in particular that you kept going back to. You remember the one time both of you were extremely tired, but Nanami had insisted on cooking dinner for the both of you. He ended up overseasoning the food, and it was too salty to be edible. You laughed at how many times he tried to apologise while you were busy giggling to yourself about how the ‘great cook Kento’ had finally messed up his cooking. 

Now, as you close your eyes as the plane begins its take off, you realise there’s no one’s shoulder for you to rest your head on when you fall asleep. 

When you open your eyes again, everything is blurry, but you can feel the plane finally land on the solid ground. You’re here. The flight attendants see the passengers off the door, and the message the captain spoke through the speakers stuck in your mind. 

“For those returning to Malaysia, welcome home.” 

How you wished that were the case for you now. 

You collected your suitcases and went through the standard procedures, and the first thing you realised the moment you walked out the door was how hot Malaysia was as compared to Japan during this time. It’s winter in Japan, but it’s always summer in Malaysia. 

It wouldn’t be so bad living here, maybe. Then he wouldn’t need to hear you complain about the cold in winter. 

You booked a cab to your hotel. You purposely booked one near the beaches, so that you could walk to the beach after you got checked in. 

Though, that wasn’t really the case. You’re exhausted. Both from the flight and everything you’ve been through the past few months. The moment you got into your room, even though the sun was blaring hot outside, you just wanted to curl up and sleep for the next few days you were here. 

You’ve been telling yourself these days that Nanami’s had it worse, and he was more tired than you were, than you’ll ever be, but now, you’re in Malaysia, wanting to live his dreams for him… And suddenly, it all felt so wrong. You’re alone here, but where was he? He didn’t get to be here with you. 

Somehow, through your vision that was muddled by your tears, you convinced yourself to go to the beach. Perhaps it’s the final page of his diary you never brought yourself to read, the one he wrote the night before the Shibuya incident. 

“If anything happens, I’ll be waiting for them by the ocean.”

The calming sounds of the waves instantly reached your ears, and you took your sandals off before stepping onto the warm sand. With each step, the sand slots itself in between your toes, a tingling feeling you’ll probably never get rid of. You knew you’d never find him here. Maybe at the bottom of the ocean, he’d be waiting for you as a siren. 

The breeze of the ocean blew by, sticking to your hair. You walked towards the ocean and stepped into the water, shivering from how cold it was. You then crouched down and dipped your finger into the waves, and for a moment, you hesitated before bringing it to your mouth and licking it. You almost immediately regret your decision, laughing at yourself for how idiotic you must have looked. 

You breathed out heavily after, before trying your hardest to put on a genuine smile and smiling at the ocean.

“It’s salty.”

by user @ aireia, do not plagiarize and/or translate.

[dyingturn]

Au where Joe lives and Sara dies in the main game from chapter 1. Alright, this is probably not that new of an au but imagine-- this would be so interesting!

I'm thinking of how Sara gets the sacrifice card and I'm thinking of like two scenarios.

Either Sara also takes the sacrifice card and now she got like two cards (after some puzzles and talking to other characters) she meets Joe at the bar. She looks over, thinking he might've also gotten a card and she sees their picture with ryoko. They talk about it, all tension leaving and Sara decides to trust Joe and ask if he saw any card. He says he doesn't and gives him the key master card. I haven't thought out why but it might have something to do with she trusts that just like in the first trial, he'll be able to save her if anything happens.

Or it could be after Sara got the key master card, she gives it to Joe and (after many puzzles later, basically when sou got knocked out) she picks up the sacrifice card and wasn't able to throw it away without having others be suspicious (she doesn't really know what the card means yet, but she has a bad feeling about it).

Its up for imagination how it happens really.

In the main game, the realisation dawns on sara. Her card... sacrifice... she'll die? If not her, then other people will.

... what about Joe?

Joe has the key master.

Sara stayed there panicking, she thought from what to do, to how to survive. And that if she's picked as the victim, she would pick Joe so that they can survive together.

(Uhh yeah, I can't write, but that's basically the idea--)

"You see I'm the keymaster"

"!!"

"Huh???"

Joe looks like he's about to say something but is hesitant, he looks over to Sara who nods, and he immediately announces that he's the keymaster.

And then the announcing that kai was actually the stalker. And then the laptop password. And then the arguing with sou. But half way through, something seems strange. Joe notices half way through arguing with sou, she looked more calm even when her arguments are no longer making sense.

So voting starts, and of course, Sara votes for Joe and the same participants from chap 1 are for preliminary vote except kanna. (I really have no idea how this is going to happen, since I want Sara to manipulate how the discussion is going to flow. she could convince everyone that she's the sage, and since no one is really gonna question her except sou, kai would probably see through her plan and go along with it, not saying anything)

And then 3 minutes are left, Sara tries to pressure them like there isn't enough time to know which between sou and kai is the sacrifice, and that its okay to vote for her. Joe argues with her bur ultimately gets nervous and tries to think how to identify the sacrifice. Of course keiji is suspicious asking her if she's actually okay with it. She agrees And he stays silent, before saying something like "...I guess my instincts were wrong" and of course, sou ruins the whole thing by accusing her of being the sacrifice.

(Yeahhh, that's about my 1am creativity for this. I need to sleep)

[danieyells]

I asked bc some people are touchy with baby trap! Hshs either way I was thinking. VERY likely it's ooc but it's a thot

The mc manages to be freed by the curse but for some reason the matches don't work so darkwick is already like 'sure, finish studying here but you have to go on missions' I'm imagining that something like the Jiro dubcon fic happens but with some changes

like rather than just touching over their clothes he gets bold enough to slide inside them, and that the anesthesia is strong enough for the reader to barely remember it as a wet dream if at all. He ends up cumming inside thinking it would be alright bc he can give you some anomalous b plan pill, but during the while it takes the reader to wake up he warms up to the idea lightly, he wouldn't mind having to take care of your prenatal care. Maybe you could teach him how families work and feel

A few weeks later the reader is in a check up because of general sickness and soreness and Yuri notices something weird in their blood work like hCG so he questions them like "are you sexually active and you didn't think it was important to disclose?" "Mh? Nope since I came to the academy I didn't do anything" but Yuri doubts them bc that only means pregnancy!! So he tells them away and bitches to it with Jiro

"i'm the closest thing they have to a doctor, can you believe they lie about things like that?"

"I can take them next time"

"why do you care? " He starts leaving when Yuri figures something "jiro... Were you two alone two months ago???"

Either way next check up the mc is given a bs explanation about a wild mosquito anomaly that causes pregnancy when biting two people back to back and Jiro being bitten too. Nobody could believe it other than the mc hshshha

re: dubcon jiro fic

That's fair! Like I said, I have no squicks or triggers worth noting, so i just 'p' at just about any thought hahaha

DAMN ANON I DIG THAT the reason Jiro didn't go further in the fic was ultimately because that was part of anon's idea haha and i wanted it to have more of a dubcon and dubious feeling where it was kind of ambiguous if he actually did anything or not, but I feel like I definitely failed to give it the proper feeling of blurred reality lol. . .I think i was in too much of a rush to get the ideas in my head out and in the end I didn't entirely make what i wanted lolol

I think the matches not working could plausibly be explained away by the ring. Just a side effect of its defenses--it tried to protect them earlier after all! It wouldn't want the champion's memories altered further!

But yeah I. I like that a lot lol. . .it's a lot softer and less cruel than I usually like my babytrapping, but it kind of fits Jiro I think(or the Jiro in this fic anyway--)

(sort of kind of in and out writing and musing under the cut. It's like 1am as i write this, don't expect much--also doesn't entirely meet the idea but. /shrug) no written smut in this one.)

The curse is something mundane and silly that they already have the cure for. But they need to be put to sleep for it to work--maybe it's a simple curse where their body won't be able to sleep without outside interference, at which point the curse ends after a good night's rest once something puts them to sleep. Something utterly simple. But they're completely unconscious, at most a faint awareness of being touched that may not even be real. So unconscious that they couldn't wake up from the feeling of their cunt being broken into if they thought it was real. If they were even aware of more than pleasurable pressure at most. It's just a dream like many others. If they had a dream at all. By the time they wake up again it's just fuzzy, blurry, bubble-like thoughts, floating up and popping out before they can really be analyzed. They feel an ache in their abdomen, but they're aching all over and haven't eaten in a day due to the treatment. They can stand, they can walk, they can return to the Cathédrale Terminale. And they can sleep properly and don't feel anything but the ache of a particularly difficult mission, meaning the minor curse they experienced was gone. The days go by as usual, training with anomalous tools to be more useful on missions and studying various fields to help each house.

Jiro almost forgot about it when they come in one day feeling nauseous. It'd been weeks. Yuri had scolded him after reading the detailed medical log. But he, too, was too curious about the results to suggest they cancel his little "experiment" before he was caught.

They both agreed that sometimes ethics weren't worth considering when it came to experiments--or one's own strongest desires.

The anomalous emergency contraceptive he had considered administering after his rather untoward act of unprofessionalism had been placed back in its cabinet.

Injected along with medication to discourage side effects of the curse's healing, was an experiment of Yuri's that had been tested on several anomalies, increasing fertility and successfully allowing for some otherwise unnatural breeding patterns.

He'd drugged them and raped them and cleaned them. And after that, he'd all but guaranteed their pregnancy.

He couldn't imagine being like Yuri and being granted the privilege of acting like a spoiled child.

Perhaps the best way for him to experience 'family' would be to have his own.

That was the real reason the inspector had arrived, nauseous, to Mortkranken. But they weren't going to tell them that. Yuri scolded them for unsafe sexual practices, which they insisted with tears in their eyes they hadn't done despite the presence of hCG in their blood and urine. They had no idea how they could have become pregnant--surely there was an explanation? Yuri clicked his tongue in irritation, as though he suspected they were truly lying. Perhaps still somewhat annoyed by Jiro's misdeed, he said that they couldn't have simply been assaulted in the night by some scoundrel.

Jiro resisted the urge to snort.

In the end an explanation had been concluded--one rooted in some myth but hard to prove or disprove.

There supposedly existed a type of demon called a concubus. These demons feed on sexual energies and fluids. While they might typically seduce humans into feeding them, others were more 'shy' and would do so in the night while one slept. However many were infertile and these were able to impregnate humans using borrowed human sperm, as doing so provided them greater sexual pleasure and thus a more satisfying meal.

A female concubus(typically called a succubus) would have sex with a male human, take the semen, and have sex with a male concubus(typically called an incubus) who would absorb the semen from within the succubus, before impregnating another human with it. While the resulting child would still be human, as they were made only using the genetic material of human parents, the humans need not engage in intercourse to reproduce as a result.

Aside from the circumstances through which the conception occurred, it was an otherwise normal pregnancy with little to be studied.

Although such a horrifying conclusion shook them, they vaguely remembered wincing as Ritsu recited Japan's laws relating to abortion to a sobbing student some time before--surely this counted as rape and the pregnancy could be terminated? But with the way the ghouls were treated and restricted, something told them they wouldn't be allowed to leave campus for such a thing without reporting whoever had harmed them as proof.

And they'd been in Mortkraken long enough to know that no medical procedure would be normal here.

"You have some time to think about it." Is what everyone told them. Ritsu in particular gave them the exact amount of weeks.

Two things convinced them to carry the child to term.

The first was the realization that perhaps these demons would return to the scene of their crime--if they could be captured, the knowledge gained could help a great deal of people, especially the ghouls. Especially Luca, searching for his brother, and ghouls like Kaito, Haku, and Rui, who wanted to return to being human.

The second was the way Jiro placed a strong and heavy hand on their tummy, stoic expression somewhat curious. The way he looked at them and offered to help them. He didn't know much about babies or families or family planning, and he was a little scared to do more harm than good with his freakish strength and tendency to break fragile things--but it would be helpful to have a doctor nearby, right? And to not go at this alone?

"Even if it's not anomalous, a baby is sort of like an infectious disease." Was his comment that made them laugh for the first time the whole day.

(Yuri protested that Jiro handle this, as Yuri insisted he was the only real doctor present. Jiro managed to reassure him that surely an ordinary pregnancy would be uninteresting and unremarkable, and that the inspector wouldn't be willing to have their fetus subject to Yuri's experiments. If anything of interest or concern were to happen, Yuri would be the first to know besides Jiro. But surely he had more interesting subjects to examine?)

A matter of weeks later and the real shock came(for the scholarship student, although Jiro had forgotten, himself) when they ran a paternity test--Jiro had been 'struck by the demons' as well, and his sperm had been used to father the child.

". . .Huh." He was far worse of an actor than Yuri. Fortunately he wasn't one for big reactions to begin with. ". . .I guess that explains how I woke up a while back."

"Do you. . .still wanna help with it?" They asked in an uncertain whisper. "I understand if not. If you'd rather I not keep it. . . ."

"I kind of want it more." Jiro shrugged, continuing to mill about their checkup. "Is that weird? It's mine, so I don't think that's weird. Especially since it's with you."

They gripped their patient gown in their fists, feeling their face heat up from embarrassment. It was a bit of a stretch, and perhaps it was the sensitivity from the pregnancy talking, but that felt as close to a confession as they'd ever gotten from Jiro.

Perhaps these demons weren't all bad. Perhaps they were simply trying to help what they saw as a pair of lovers who needed a little push.

Maybe being a parent with Jiro wouldn't be so hard.

[someone-always-cares]

chapter 5, page 48

first - previous - next

[image description: an sac webcomic page. "seems like a normal kitchen. coast's clear, but it's locked." jade says, off panel. theres a view of the kitchen from the outside. no acual kitchen appliances are shown, but there is a island counter, and a few shelves in the back with various items, notably camera equipment, cleaning supplies, and assorted boxes. "we'll have to break in here, everything else is boarded. you remember what i taught you about breaking glass?" she continues. "yeah. it'll be loud though" lewis replies. "we'll just have to take whoever hears us." jade states, the panel now showing jade hiding to the side of the window, looking at it out of the corner of her eye, while lewis has wandered off and is kneeled down to pick up something off the ground. "this glass seems sturdier than the wine glasses lewis practiced with... can he do it? i've never been able to get the frequency right, but surely any glass will break with a loud enough noise?" jade thinks to herself, looking through the window, still to the side of it, while frowning contemplatingly. she seems to be unaware of lewis behind her, raising the brick he just picked up like one would when preparing to pitch a baseball, and sticking his tongue out in concentration. end id]

yall are getting a treat with me drawing actual backgrounds the past few pages! my computer fucking hates it and has tried to crash my art program many times but im not losing to a fucking machine so the page is ready to go! and yeah i didnt think to google what a broken wire fence looks like until typing this

anyway some life updates. next page may be a little late, i have a convention this weekend (if anyone is headed to animeleague london anime and gaming festival this weekend feel free to say hi! its the one with the star fairy lights and like. my art in it? yeah. also for the same con in birmingham in a couple weeks)

also ended up getting those wooden pride cat pins! or the charms, i need to glue the actual pin bits in and that tomorrow's task!! and even more importantly, i've started the process of trying to make sac into an actual printed comic!! so far it seems like im just going to start with chapter 1, because with the printer im thinking of using, anything over 76?ish pages is automatically more expensive so currently only have the funds for chapter one (50ish pages inc bonus and prologue).

also because turns out theres more work than i thought. theres some things like getting the colours cmyk ready and fixing typos and other errors, there is some size problems (the first 6 pages in particular need to be redone entirely but not much of a loss. they look.... Not Great. maybe prologue too). also some "accidentally lost some files and the backups of said files in an external drive related incident a couple years ago" but i've got my best experts on the case (asking my dad for help). i also need to change the font since the old pages are using the old version of the font. also a front cover because i never made a cover for chapter 1. anyway. its a start

anyway this was long i really needed to sleep a few hours ago lol. its only 1am but its been a day

[soluchi]

Eccentric (1/4)

OVERALL SUMMARY: Jonathan meets a genuinely peculiar, dare I say eccentric, person in the woods. A little bit of trolling ensues 

SUMMARY: Jonathan and Y/N's meet cute but with a little bit of trauma oh nooo

WORD COUNT: 914

A/N: goofy ass decided to write this in the dark @ 1am this is what i call fierce !!!! 

There's always that one place your parents tell you not to go. For Jonathan, it was the woods.

When he sees a girl hanging upside down from a tree reading a book right side up he thinks he understands why.

Your eyes meet his when you hear a squeak of surprise, and he quickly covers them. For a few seconds, you expect him to move his hands from his eyes, but he makes no further movements. "Who are you?" You ask. "Jonathan Joestar." It's when he stumbles on his words that you realize why he's covering his eyes.

His hands move away from his eyes immediately after hearing a thud in front of him. "Oh my God, are you ok?!" You grinned at him while flattening your dress. You looked pretty silly doing it on the floor though, it was obviously going to be stained.

"Yes! I admit it was very stupid of me 'cause my butt hurts really bad now," You took the hand he offered to you. "Then why'd you let go? What were you doing in the first place?"

"Well you seemed uncomfortable with seeing my undergarments, so I fell to be considerate." You stated as if you couldn't just climb down from the tree like any other person would've done. "And I wanted to see if reading right side up while hanging upside down would cancel out." Jonathan raised his eyebrow. "What would happen if it canceled out?"

You opened your mouth and then closed it when you had nothing to say. Your mother always told you to close your mouth or else a bee would fly into it. His question left you dumbfounded despite you 'experimenting' for at least two hours. That had been the longest you've gone without getting bored and moving on to something else. 

"Well, I haven't thought that out yet." You looked to the sky as if it would tell you. "Maybe I'd make a discovery of some sort." You grinned at him. He doubted anything like that would happen, but he wouldn't say anything because of how strange you were. Maybe you already have and haven't noticed it yet.

"Why are you here?" You asked after a minute of silence. "I.." He hesitated, not wanting to admit that he was bullied away from the spot he usually played at. "I got lost looking for something I left yesterday." His eyes physically refused to look anywhere in front of him, where you were, squinting at him while inching closer. "What are you hiding?"

He stared at the ground, opting out of the conversation. He had no idea if it was polite to leave because he was never taught about situations like these. "Of course, it's none of my business!" You reprise a common phrase you're told by your parents whenever you'd ask too many questions.

"Unless you're a criminal. Because then I'd have to know what you're hiding so I can report you to the authorities. I doubt that you'd actually tell me if you were a criminal, even less so now, because I just told you my first instinct would be to report you." He stared at you stunned, wondering how your lungs felt right now.

"This is why I don't have many people to hang out with because they worry that I'll tell adults the things we do when others aren't around. And I always ask 'If you're so scared of others finding out about things that you do, then why do them?' They never listen though! I wish one day I could ask my mo-" You cover your mouth to stop yourself from talking.

A laugh forces its way out of your mouth. "Gosh, I sure do talk a lot!" Jonathan can hear the way you try your best to laugh. It wasn't quite believable and it made him curious, but since you decided not to press on the reason why he was out in the woods, he returned the sentiment. "I think you should speak more," He started cautiously, not knowing how to comfort you or if you even needed comfort. "It's not good to bottle up that much emotion, you might burst."

This had been his first attempt at a joke in a long time, due to him not feeling happy enough and that he had no friends to joke with. It seemed to be a success, at least with you.

After your fit of giggles, which made the laugh you made earlier seem like a punchline to a deadpan joke, he realized how much time had passed. The sky looked like it was nearing the afternoon. He was about to announce his departure when he realized he never got your name.

"It's..." Jonathan didn't understand why you paused for a few seconds to remember it, but again he didn't ask. "Y/N. Also! Yesterday I found out about the different types of rocks! Do you know what igneous rocks are? They're so...!" You raised up your hands in excitement because you couldn't find words to explain your ecstasy.

Jonathan immediately forgets why he was worried when he hears you mention something he recently got interested in. "Mhm! Have you heard of sedimentary rocks?" You jumped in excitement once you realized you were about to have a discussion on rocks.

When Jonathan sees how happy you look, he decides he can stay a little longer.

At the cost of a scolding from his father and a puzzled glare from his step brother.

[throbbingwish]

Oh god I don't know if I can catch everything up to speed, but I've changed a lottttt. I go to a community school transition program now to get me back into school. Actually one of my teachers was in Phantom Sydney, and as someone who loves POTO it's always so great to hear his stories. Currently, my celebrity crush is Jimmi Simpson; he's just so charming, funny, he has this air about him that's so likeable. He has such a nice sounding voice, perfect lips (his upper lip is bigger than his lower lip! How cool is that. I think that's such an attractive feature...), the most beautiful nose (I just love love LOVEEE medium-big upturned noses. Upturned noses in general, the best nose on a man.), he's very talented as an actor and has been in some great shows (I actually first started loving him in 2022, when I watched USS Callister in Black Mirror. Actually that's what reignited my crush on him recently with its rewatch!) his gorgeous hair, his beautiful beautiful blue eyes and the fact that he listens to SMOG!!!!! I found out in an article, and honestly that's so good. I'm a fan of Bill Callahan and knowing he listens to Smog is a win for me. I don't know if he still does, but in the article he said he did. He also wears glasses! Gosh, I could go on all day but I don't want to waste your time. Currently my top artists are Jack Ladder, PJ Harvey, John Cale, Roxy Music, Bill Callahan, Scott Walker, David Sylvian, Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds (Yes I know, Nick Cave and PJ Harvey, scandalous) and The Blue Nile. But I think spotify stats is a bit off on the ranking. Jack Ladder I have definitely been listening to most; I am OBSESSED with the song Susan. I actually found it around a year ago and loved it, but then in May started listening again and could not stop. It's actually become my top song of all time on spotify. That's how much I listen to it, and it never gets old. Cold Feet is such a nostalgic song too, it makes me feel some things. Its such a night song, I want to drive with it through the cool air near nature and sky at autumn/winters night with my lover in the car. If only I had a lover, I would cherish him completely. And as I said I've been listening to Bill Callahan, The Wind And The Dove is stuck in my head and all you'd hear if you stepped into my mind would be "I am a child of linger on, I peer through the window gone" just repeating and repeating on the loud speaker at mind terminal. I wonder if I was there, what plane would I catch. There would be so many to choose. Obviously, I get free access as the owner of the land, but my mind is wild and free and expands to many different places with my millions of thoughts, ideas, aspirations, feelings, interests, etc. I could take a world tour and reflect on all of this. I can imagine the floors as warm and my eyes calm and cool, steady guided to reflection plane. I just love that its Winter now by the way, I love all the months, Winter has its special charm. I'd always want to make love in a field near the mountains at night time during winter, with the cool breeze on me. I really do love nature. I love the bush, I love the mountains and towering trees in Washington and Appalachia, the beauty of the Blue Mountains, of course Austria and Switzerland and China is so beautiful too. I could go on and on. Most importantly, I love the mountains, hills, fields, trees, and the country. I also like lakes if they're surrounded by trees like in coming of age films. Speaking of film, I want to watch Wristcutters: A Love Story. It's next on my list. I might as well go, its getting late at 1am. My eyes hurt and I need glasses. I'm glad I get to post this, I'll probably read back on it later.

[thebigsick]

venting in the safe house

if someone finds me on tumblr then i gotta end it all. just somewhere to speak my mind, hopefully find relief for the thoughts having. i keep thinking someone is coming behind me but its 12:30. i find myself in a redundant cycle of "attachment" issues with people, i want to leave the only real "friends" i have and just be myself, or just ghost everyone i know because everything so far has just been a waste of time. all the time shared with my friends was for nothing as i realize i "don't even really like them". I start thinking that and it's not real, it's not true, it's probably not honest. I see everyones lives progressing and moving in a great direction, the way id want mine to be but it feels like i just keep getting held back for a reason. i keep feeling like i have no real attachment to these people. at the end of the day, after all the things we do and say like getting food and laughing or making fun of other people, there is nothing solid between and any of them. they all wanna hang out with each other and some people just between them, but never everyone. sometimes i'm excluded and usually i get it; people do their own thing and i shouldn't be reliant on others for my happiness but they are supposed to be -my friends-. when i'm bored i talk with -my friends-, when i want to hang out i message -my friends-, when i have problems i can tell -my friends-. it's not like that tho and i get i can't have it they way "I want to", i just wish i some form of that. it feels like everyone has a much stronger bond to each other except me. i'm a loose end, it doesn't matter that much if i am there when they're hanging out or not. it seems like everyone has that thing to back to, that thing to fall back onto, that safety pad but i don't. I can't explain it that well but i will try. i don't think i'm close with anyone enough to rely on them the way everyone has/does.

i feel lonely around this time of year, it's annoying. i have been telling myself i dont need anyone for a long time, now it feels like the castle of lies ive built for myself is coming crashing down. i think someone like me, someone in my situation or in my position should have a kind of person like that, but no. idk why i think especially me but i think that would be nice. it would be great to have that sort of connection. its so late jeez work tmr too. i think ive been trying to fill my time/ keep my myself busy to avoid feeling like this. it has worked so far but it feels the effect just wore off. maybe this is a moment of weakness but the feelings have stuck with me for some time. iv'e had these thoughts many times before but never got them together and written them down. again, i wish i could tell someone i trust this instead.

my worst fear coming from this is that my friends will move on past me and hang out with each other because they are closer or have more similar personalities. i know our friends aren't perfect but it feels like their flaws are being amplified right now. i gotta brush my teeth.

ok done. my airpods are shit too. had some time to reflect and these thoughts will probably age poorly, whatever. i think i said "but" too much, its ok. i think this form of venting is helpful for me because it's like im telling someone this. i know no one is gonna see it yet it feels like the only way to could actually relieve myself from the dark room my mind is in rn. i hope it gets better. its 1am. idc we up already so long atp couple minutes cant make much difference. I wish someone was there for me emotionally. i dont think i have a "ton of baggage" but for the basic stuff. i dont know how my mom does it. just her, for years. she has more actual problems too. she is the strongest no doubt.

it doesn't seem like anyone actually wants -me-. if we are talking about making jokes, playing the game, music making talk, it's great. but when it comes to real, deep, ego-hurting feelings we all have, im a ghost. no one turns to me or think i need someone to turn to.

you know it might actually be partly my fault for not being vulnerable but that's only because i have some trust issues i think. just wish i had that one person, that ride or die, that go out "guns-a-blazin" person. im 16 now and im feeling like i might never get that person for myself. its like there was a pre-partner choosing period that i missed and now that we started, i'm stuck by myself.

im definitely not ugly or anything like that so i dont issues of that stuff, its purely rejection. lets say if i start talking to a girl i like, what i think very likely will happen will be this: we start talking, i do most of talking, the start and end of the conversation. she is clearly not interested in me but is just messaging because shes bored. she tells her friends about how i keep messaging her and dont stop. i try to move past the talking stage and she shuts it down. things are weird with us and i try to talk to someone about it and *poof*. nothing.

this music is really my main thing 🤞🏾. listening to it and making it has been there everyday for me for years. people must think i have it figured it out, right? There isn't a support system for this stuff. I MEAN theres OBVIOUSLY the "yo ur music is acc fire" comments all the time which i am honestly grateful for but it doesn't seem like anyone truly cares about this shit as much i do at all and you know, that's ok. if that was my only issue i had, id be that guy fr. it's just another thing.

i hope i find it tho, so badly, i think it would be such a positive impact on my life. maybe this music shit could get me that attention im so badly craving but probably not. is that it tho? am i just craving attention? is the lack of attention in my life effecting everything else? i hope this inspires me to go find that someone. i essentially want that special someone is what ive been trying to say this whole time but when i say it like this, i just think "wow buddy, you and everyone else".

[beeseverywhen]

A few years ago a family moved in to the apartment above mine and they unleashed something within me that had me worried

I went from being unbelievably chill about any noise 'Oh that's just part of living in a shared building' 'I actually like it, the noise of humans around me just living reminds me I'm not alone in this world' 'kids will be kids' to like a hare trigger. This time last year, the slightest noise from above just made me fall in to deep deep rage. Id go from going about my day to somewhere in my head i never want to be. Seeing red. At one point I was ill and I actually stormed out of bed and thundered on the door to ask them incredibly politely to turn down the TV (the level of rage I had to reach to actually leave my house and say something was immense but even then, with them actually in front of me I wasn't about to be anything but deadly nice. I may be bolshy OK but I'm not about to yell at my neighbours man I'm not an idiot, we've gotta share a bin cupboard).

By the end any noise i heard from them made me so angry I was actually scared this was like a sign of things to come. I'm becoming that shitty single middle aged neighbour who hates anything you do. Have I always been that person. I hate who I've become, who I'm ever increasingly becoming more of.

It was a single dad and his kid but it turned out like he had like 5 other children and they were on a constant relay. There was never not a child in his house and it was a 2 bed flat. Oftentimes I could hear even more children than he could possibly be responsible for. It was like I had a middle school above my bedroom. He also didn't seem to have given any of them bedtimes. Every night, non stop preteen arguments, chasing each other, the worst TV possible on max. And even worse! The guy was really fucking nice. So I couldn't say shit and felt terrible for being so angry at him all the time.

And then!!!! Like it couldn't get any worse something goes wrong with his heating system and this dumbo this complete eejit of a guy fucking doesn't tell our mother fucking landlord. His radiators have me thinking this guy is systematically killing elephants at 3pm, 6pm and 1am on the dot every single day. And it gets louder as time goes on. I didn't actually realise what it was for months and was like desperate for answers. By month 4 I was sure he was on a juice diet and kept his blender on the floor. When I finally finally realise its the water, I'm like ah I see. Just gotta get it sorted. That's fine. I just gotta wait it out, something so much easier now I know its a simple fix and the end is in sight. Then a few more months pass and I'm thinking, this is becoming frustrating again.

I thought maybe it was a tricky fix you know. I check in when I see him and it seems to me things aren't running too smoothly with the fix, you know, gotta chase them a bit. I can sympathise. Then. Month 9. I see a tradesperson. I get excited. I call out to the guy 'hey are you fixing flat 4? I'm so happy' turns out he's an electrician. Disappointing. Then! Electrician is so entertained by my tale of sorrow, he shares it with the neighbour when he comes out. And then. This is the worst bit OK. This motherfucker. I thought he'd been telling me these past months he'd chase the fix. No. No. He hasn't even fucking logged it. Here he is cheerful as fucking Larry going oh yeah I really need to get to that. Not get to chasing it. No. He needs to get to telling them there's even a problem. Now when I tell you I wanted to throttle the man.

So for his sins: too many children and a lax approach to bedtime, terrible taste in TV and a prenatural ability to ignore his radiators sounding like a foghorn every single day paired with a frustrating inability to hold those responsible fucking responsible and tell the landlord there's a problem so they can fix it

I was worried cause not any one of those faults seemed great enough to fuel this rage and yet, there was a fire burning within me so hot it seemed it'd never burn out. I'm honestly thinking this is my slide in to terrible, boring, whiny, middle aged sad sack

And then, dude buys a house. I get a new neighbour. Another single dad but the kids a bit older. He apologises in advance they're a family of musicians.

And you know what. These last few months have been the most comforting in my life. This dude right, he's an insomniac. I hear his TV at all hours of the morning. I don't care. His daughter sings constantly, her favourite time to record guitar tracks is 1am. It's pretty nice actually. Sometimes I hear his water system complaining. No skin off my back. His daughter always has friends over, they are very loud. I'm just soaking in the happy atmosphere of humans laughing and singing and being so very alive. It's great.

Not one noise that comes from above is annoying to me.

This is fantastic news. This is a sign of great things. I'm fine as it turns out! I'm not slowly aging in to the spoilsport i apparently always was all along. I'm patient again. Not only that, but I'm back to being good natured about things that'd piss off anyone else. This guy keeps apologising and I'm just like 'Thursday night was particularly good.' He's like I'm so sorry she decided to practice at 2am yesterday I'm like, get her to do wild horses again, I like that one. He's like oh my god how can you hear whole songs I didn't realise the soundproofing was that bad and I'm just 'Yeah it is. However, I don't actually care, I listen to music when I can't sleep anyway, may as well be whatever you're playing'

So, there it is. Turns out I'm not slowly aging in to a miserable git, I'd just reached my very upper limit of tolerance, as is human. Very reassuring. I'm incredibly pleased.

[sspinelliarts246-01]

Going into this project originally I wanted to utilize illustration to create my snippets, as it is something I am most comfortable with. However, now that I am in college I really want to push myself in as many ways outside of my comfort zone. So after attending our second class and learning applications of photoshop I found myself really interested in applying my new found knowledge, and I decided to switch gears. I thought of a few different ways in which I could apply these techniques and landed on creating a unique typeface using octopus tentacles to fit the theme of my first snippet. However laborious I found myself really enjoying manipulating the tentacles to identifiable letters. What I didn’t take into account, though, was how long this process would actually take me. After about four hours of work and only two words I realized that to meet the deadline for the critique I would have to temporarily put together something to turn in. Fortunately I still have time to make adjustments over the weekend and I hope to complete my piece to a better degree. As I started my work on my second snippet I again realized that in order to meet the deadline I would have to refine my design to something I could complete within the time frame. So I decided to create a more simplistic design that drew as much attention to the focal point of the frayed rope. Although, after putting text on top of the image I felt that it needed something more. So I drew over some of the original text font and made my own with the brush tool. I still had work to do on it but by 1am I had met my limit and decided to go to bed. After critique I realized some mistakes I had made and hope to refine over the weekend. Hopefully by next class I will have a more refined version of both snippets with these edits.

The chapters I read this week furthered my understanding of what graphic designers do as well as how graphic designers interact with those around them. In every interview I observed each designers ability to not only articulate their message through design but through their speech as well. Each artist when responding to the interviewer was very clear and were able to communicate their thoughts with seemingly little to no strain. I often fail to acknowledge the side of graphic design that is not only visual communication but verbal as well. I am partially drawn to art for its ability to visually communicate one’s meaning. I struggle with verbal communication and communicating concise thoughts to others so art has always been of great interest to me to communicate what I can’t. This is something I think I should work on to better prepare myself for my intended career path. In class critiques and pushing myself to communicate more often will hopefully aid in this goal. So far this reading has been very beneficial and I hope to continue to explore the art of Graphic Design.

[magniloquent-raven]

bro @metalheadcowboy the tags u left on this post 💕😭💕 fr dude if u ever got anymore 1am brainrot u need to offload somewhere my inbox is always open, i love getting random hcs

and u got me thinkin more about eddie being max's trans yoda ldfkgjlk so here's a lil thought i had that got out of hand:

susan’s always had a thing about max’s hair. never letting hair dressers take too much off, insisting on fussing over it whenever max needed to dress up for something, trying to bond over being redheads, because she and max never had much in common besides that. etc.

and it’s fine. it’s whatever. mostly. except…once max starts really thinking about the Gender thing, playing around with the idea of pronouns and buying sports bras that are two sizes too small, realizing how much more comfortable he can be…it just highlights how much the little things can hurt. 

it’s after susan has a pretty good day at work, after she lays off the booze for the evening, after she actually spends some time with max for the first time in months, after she says one too many little things that hurt just a little too much, stroking max’s hair while they watch a movie together. 

that max cuts all his hair off. badly. in the bathroom, alone in the middle of the night. and…kind of hates it. it kind of makes everything worse. 

and he shows up at eddie’s front door in tears. 

alone it felt like an insurmountable failure, like one haircut just disproved years of internal struggle, like the whole fucking world was going to fall apart at the seams because one thing didn’t feel the way it should’ve. but standing in eddie’s living room, haltingly explaining what happened while eddie waits patiently, his expression never shifting from the soft, sympathetic understanding that dawned on his face the second he opened the door, well. the whole thing starts to shrink into something more manageable. 

it keeps shrinking. til suddenly it feels like a stupid thing to freak out about. 

but eddie just nods. “yeah, i did the same thing in middle school. it, uh…” he scrunches his nose. “not a good look on me. i had a lumpy head.” 

that gets a tiny huff of a laugh in response. 

eddie fixes max’s hair as best he can, and when he’s done its still shaggy and uneven, but less of a hack job. he apologizes for not really knowing what he’s doing (he’s trimmed his own hair before but it’s different when it’s someone else’s) but max just tugs on one of the longer bits, eyebrows pinched and thoughtful. 

“i look like my brother.” max takes a big rattling breath. “when, uh. we first met. he’d just started growing out his hair.”

remembering still hurts, but this…it’s something else. 

“you gonna do that too, or do you like it like this?”

he’s so casual about it. because of course it doesn’t matter. it’s not a big deal. the ease of it is comforting. the simple reminder that, yeah, he can do whatever the hell he wants. look however he wants. susan will have words, she’ll have opinions, but none of them will matter. 

max shrugs. “think i might, yeah.”

~~tag list ppl hello im still here 😅 @growup-thatbeautiful @spreckle ~~

[musicshylover]

Karube with an insecure s/o headcanons

Its almost 1am in the morning here and I need to wake up in like 5 hours time for school 😭 Anyways if anyone bothers to read this, I just wanna say thank you for reading and I'm sorry but I will be busy with school work for the next few weeks until Mid-Decemeber so I won't be able to write as much! Also, I have this question I wanted to ask. Should I write for more fandoms and which fandom?? And one last thing like do y'all think I should write requests? But omg would y'all be mad if I didn't meet your expectations? ∑(;°Д°)ᵒᵐᵍᵎᵎᵎ That's so scary! Never mind hahaha! If anyone bothers to reply to me, thank you so much! And that's all! Hope I can complete my school work and come back online soon! Good night guys! Take care!

Genre: Fluff

You have always known that your Karube is a handsome guy so it is not exactly a surprise for you to see girls flinging themselves at him, especially when he is working in the bar

Many of the girls will visit the bar just to see him

Of course, as his girlfriend you would be there frequently to wait for him to finish work, so you had often witness girls trying to throw themselves at him

At first you did not thought much as his outgoing and friendly personality naturally attracts people to him

He is also strong and dependable which makes him the perfect boyfriend that every girl wants in their life

He is the definition of a 10/10 boyfriend

And you truly loves every part of him but after seeing him always surrounded by many girls, it makes you feel really insecure and uneasy

Of course, you know that it is not his fault for being so charming, but sometimes you just think that he deserves someone that is better than you, a girl that is much prettier or more curvy

Whenever, you see girls crowding around him, you can't help but feel like the girls that are flirting with him will be a much better fit for him

But like we have mentioned, Karube is a 10/10 boyfriend so he will definitely notice something is wrong

He had appeared to be happily talking to the girls but he is actually always looking at you from the corner of his eyes

He definitely notices that you are uncomfortable with the girls and feels guilty that he can't push them away because they are his customers and if he were to be rude, he would probably be kicked out by his boss

However, this man definitely knows where to draw the line, he will definitely put a distance between himself and the girls whenever one of them gets too close

If they didn't get the hint that he is not interested, he will probably just tell them directly that he is not available

"See that cute girl over there? She is the one responsible for stealing my heart" he had cheekily tell the girls while directing their attention towards you

When you looked up and realise all of them were looking at you, you would blush immediately which makes Karube chuckle

The girls would probably then apologise before excusing themselves due to embarrassment

However, if they still does not back down and continues to flirt with him, he will start to feel annoyed and would probably tell them off

But if they insults you, that will be his last straw

He had be real angry with someone insulting you so he definitely would stand up for you

At the end of the day, when he finally end work, he would immediately go and give you a big hug and apologise for not being there to reassure you

He would ask you to tell him the next time you feel insecure again

He will make sure to tell you how much he loves you everyday and press lots of kisses on your face

He will probably trap you in his arms and not let you go until you smile again

He just loves the way you smile and he didn't want you to ever doubt yourself for being not enough for him

If Arisu and Chota happen to know how you are feeling, they will probably reassure you and tell you how much Karube talks about you to them

And the said man would totally not stop his friends from spilling what he told them about you

He may get slightly embarrassed but he wants you to know truly, how much he loves you

He definitely sees you as someone he wants to be with forever so he will reassure you as many times as you need

Man is prepared to stick with you forever!

All in all, Karube thinks that you are the most beautiful human being in the world and he wouldn't trade you for anyone else

[blossom-hwa]

Lina!! While I stew over your title (well actually I'm going to sleep because it's like 1am here) I thought I'd give you one of mine to swap now so that you don't have to wait until I'm done lol

How do we feel about "lavender mist" ?

this... is likely not what you imagined when you came up with that title. unfortunately I’m not sorry :) anyway, check out casey’s original drabble here (it’s super fucking cute), and I hope you enjoy this reinterpretation of the title <3

half inspired by a post apocalyptic universe @sleepyowlwrites shared with me some time ago - thanks for that, sleepy 💕💕

wc: 1.7k ~ no pairing (main characters: taehyun and beomgyu) ~ apocalypse!au ~ triggers: cursing, mentions of blood and guns, character death, zombies ~ txt masterlist

~ As the world falls, Taehyun keeps moving on.

[ lavender mist ] The end of the world isn’t as barren as Taehyun thought it would be.

Every apocalyptic movie he remembers - and to be fair, his memory is a bit fuzzy after years of trudging along cracked sidewalks and empty streets - painted the world as something gray, dusty, bleak, as though with the collapse of humanity, the earth would collapse too. Taehyun would watch, heart in his throat as survivors did everything they could to continue living even though the warm embrace of Mother Earth had long turned cold as marble. With the loss of her favorite children, the human race, she had lost the will to live as well. 

What bullshit.

The earth survived perfectly fine by itself for millions of years before humanity decided to encroach on its territory. It never needed mankind, probably never even wanted it - one glance around at the overgrown grass and flowers and trees, weeds shooting up from sidewalk cracks and tangling around abandoned cars and homes, tells all. 

The earth never needed humans. Probably never wanted them, either. 

And if that’s the case, Taehyun doesn’t really know why he keeps trying to survive. 

But then again, there are a lot of things he doesn’t know. Why he isn’t dead yet. Why everyone around him is gone but he still stays. Why the sun beats so ungodly hot during the summer and the wind whips so unbearably cold in the winter. Why he keeps moving instead of staying in one place, running from ghosts that don’t exist. 

Why he keeps an empty can of lavender scented Febreze in his bag, its mist long since dispersed into the world from the day Beomgyu plucked it off a mostly barren supermarket shelf and, despite Taehyun’s raised eyebrows and obvious concern for the state of his sanity, shoved it in his bag. 

“I don’t know!” Beomgyu had said, hands raised in mock indignation when Taehyun asked him hours later after the generally unsuccessful supermarket raid. “Don’t interrogate me!”

“I wasn’t interrogating. I just want to know,” Taehyun had replied, deadpan as ever even as he tried to hide a smile. Things may have changed, but Beomgyu was always the same - loud-mouthed, chaotic, random, always fueled by some desire to care, even if he didn’t know it. 

The hands came down but Beomgyu’s smile stayed even as he shrugged. “I don’t know,” he’d repeated. “It was just there, so I took it.” Taehyun had snorted at that (that’s the most Beomgyu reply ever), but he wasn’t done. “I guess I just... didn’t want to leave with nothing at all.”

“Do you even know how it smells?”

“... Look, it has to be better than whatever the fuck is outside.”

It is better, but mostly because it’s hard not to be better than the stench of rotten corpses mixed with the tang of dried blood and coupled with the scent of blooming flowers in the wind that somehow makes it all worse. Strong, too - clearly a year of sitting unused on a shelf hadn’t done much to dampen its scent. The first time Beomgyu sprays it, more on accident than anything else, he and Taehyun have to stifle coughs and sneezes for too many minutes as the mist tickles their noses.

And yet they keep it.

Which is weird, because most useless things that Taehyun (and Beomgyu, despite his inner child) would put in the same category as questionable Febreze get left behind. There’s no space for luxuries in their bags, no jewelry or money or anything that would’ve had value before the world went to shit - even the two dingy string bracelets braided with five different colors that used to dangle around their wrists have since frayed to the point of falling off. Things like Febreze should never have held a place in their lives.

But Beomgyu carves a place for its too strong flowery sweet scent, a tiny puff into the air nearby when they’re finally safe from a zombie attack, a small spray to freshen up their latest shelter as much as they can after sweeping one too many piles of dirt out the door. And as they keep struggling through the barren world, emptying the can on their way, Taehyun has to wonder - when humanity has completely fallen and another race takes up the earth, what will they be remembered by? Will it be broken braided bracelets threaded in five different colors fallen by the side of the road? Will it be photos of the dead left in abandoned frames in abandoned homes, or stuffed in dirty bags and soiled by dust and rain? 

Will it be an empty can of lavender mist at the bottom of a survivor’s bag, the strong, sweet scent of home still a wisp in the air?

Beomgyu had always had more hope than Taehyun. He believed that maybe one day humanity would return, would learn from its previous mistakes of greed and fortune to create a world better than this one. Taehyun asks him about this more than once - it’s fascinating to him, Beomgyu’s patient optimism even as the world seems to grow harsher and more unforgiving of humanity’s transgressions with every day that passes. His answer is always the same. 

“I think we still have good in this world.” Taehyun can picture dark, playful eyes staring into his, the barest wisp of a smile on Beomgyu’s lips. Beautiful as always, not in spite of the dirt caking his skin and the exhaustion weighing down his face but because of it - the struggle that forged a diamond sparkling in the ashes of the earth. “We’ve survived this long, Taehyun. I have to believe that someday, we’ll come back.”

Relentless optimism, even where Taehyun only saw death and disaster in every street they passed, every horde they escaped, every undead life they took to ensure the continuation of their own. No matter what he said in his moments of despair, Beomgyu always gave him comfort in the weight of his hand in his, in the press of his body against Taehyun’s during cold nights, in the brief dusting of lavender mist into the air...

And one day, the scent isn’t too strong. It isn’t too sweet. It’s a break, a respite, a piece of the old world that miraculously wasn’t lost even in the wake of disaster. 

It smells like home.

When Taehyun looks at Beomgyu then - really looks at Beomgyu - as he sprays small bursts of mist into the air of their new makeshift shelter, it only takes him a minute to realize that Beomgyu feels this way, too. That he’s probably felt it for a long time.

Maybe that’s why Taehyun isn’t surprised to find the empty can in Beomgyu’s bag, long after he’d sprayed the last of its scent into the air. He blinks a little when it comes out in his hand and for a moment he thinks he should be surprised, given how the two of them had gotten rid of waste wherever they could, but somehow this souvenir of sentiment surpasses that. A reminder, however small, of home. 

He tries the valve, even though he knows it’s empty. Nothing comes out.

It’s been three days since Beomgyu has gone. Three days since he showed Taehyun the bite, three days since he guided the gun towards his head, three days since Taehyun pulled the trigger and watched Beomgyu’s body collapse to the ground, a final small smile on his face.

Only then, with the empty metal can in his hand, does Taehyun finally cry.

For his parents, who were at work when the outbreak got to them and never managed to get out alive. 

For his friends who passed first, three of the five strings that frayed over the years until the knotted bracelet fell off his wrist, one of them disappeared, the other two confirmed dead.

For Beomgyu, the fourth string, his only family left, his last thread of hope in this apocalyptic world.

For him, Taehyun, the fifth string and the last one alive, so far from home and never to return.

Taehyun cries for the hope Beomgyu carried that was destroyed three days ago with the bullet he shot with his very own hands. A bullet that took the last of everything he had, leaving him with -

Nothing.

(What will the world remember him by when he goes?)

When Taehyun wakes the next day, eyes red and cheeks sticky with tears, something in him begs to stay still. What use is there in forging on, in living when everything else has been lost, when there’s nothing left to survive for? 

(A crumpled family photo drenched by rain?)

Is there even a point?

(Or a braid of five frayed strings, buried under the dust by the road?

But he rolls over. Stands. Places the empty can back in Beomgyu’s bag, picks it up along with his. Slings them over his back.

And starts walking.

(Perhaps a can of lavender mist at the bottom of a beaten-up bag, a scent that belongs to loss, but that also belongs to hope.)

Maybe Taehyun does know why, then, why he has to keep going. Because while there is nothing left for him, there is still something left for Beomgyu. A hope. A dream. A wish. A prayer whispered on lavender scented air, too sweet and too strong and still smelling of home - a prayer that the world will come back someday.

And if it does, even if it’s only in the last moments of Taehyun’s life, he has to see it. For Beomgyu.

So as the sun beats harsh on his brow, branches catching on his clothes with the snarl of animals and the undead alike sounding faint in his ears, all Taehyun can do is forge on through the strangling arms of Mother Nature, slogging through overgrown grass with sweat in his hair, cuts on his skin, tears in his eyes -

And the scent of lavender mist in his nose, no matter where he goes.

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 hug for Taehyun, also 1 prayer for some fluff thoughts bc I have too many angst ideas and I need some softness in my life)

[peppermintsparker]

❝drive safe.❞

summary you always make bucky promise to drive safe, no matter what

warnings explicit language, food mention, lack of sleep mention, little fluff, big angst, cliffhanger

authors note this has been in my drafts for toooooo long. unedited and not proof read its like 1am shut up.

"I'll be back tomorrow." Bucky reassured you over the phone, whispering so that he wouldn't wake Sam through the paper thin walls of whichever shabby motel they were staying in. You presumed that he had the same old smile he always wore, and the soft tones of his voice did make you feel better.

"I just, hate when you're gone." you sighed, doodling in the corner of the paper you were currently reading as part of your homework. Whilst you wished Bucky would choose you over the world, you also knew that his work was incredibly important to him and it made him feel needed. You'd have to be heartless to want to take that feeling from him.

"I know," Bucky sighed out, and you could practically hear the sadness in his voice. "I hate it when m'gone too. But I'll be home tomorrow, I promise. Listen, I gotta go. I'll call you again just before we leave okay? Stay safe."

The dial tone sounded, and you dropped your phone onto the desk with a dejected sigh. You knew that he was coming home tomorrow, and the promise of that was a glimmering ray of light, but you knew he may not be home for that long again. Not wanting to focus on that thought any longer, you headed through to the kitchen to brew a coffee before settling yourself down with the first draft of an essay.

It was nine in the morning before Bucky phoned again, and you cleared your throat in the hopes that your voice wouldn't betray the fact that you hadn't slept. "Hey you," you yawned down the phone, "everything okay?"

"Yeah," Bucky was quick to respond, taking a bite of his breakfast muffin whilst Sam drove the car. "Did I wake you up? I know you've got a paper due next month, don't tell me you stayed up all night! Y/n, you know how important sleep is!"

"Alright, grandpa. Don't talk with food in your mouth." you joked, hoping it would draw his focus away from the fact you clearly hadn't slept. He sighed on the other end of the phone, knowing you too well. "Okay fine, I didn't sleep. The apartment is always too quiet without your snores practically rattling the walls."

"You're so mean to me!" Bucky joked, and you felt better hearing his laughter, it confirmed he was safe. "Listen, I gotta go. I'm about to drive for a while to let Sam have a rest."

"See, no matter how much you deny it, you love Sam!" you teased, and you knew Bucky would be shaking his head. You knew him too well, and you could attest to how true your statement actually was; it seemed like the two were constantly at each others throats, but they cared for one another no matter how much it was denied. "In all seriousness, though. Drive safe, okay?"

Bucky promised he would before hanging up, leaving you alone and staring at your laptop screen and anxiously awaiting his homecoming. He always came home when he promised, and always drove safe no matter how many times you told him too. You just didn't realise today was going to be the exception to that rule.

[mercy-burning]

Losing You Twice / 1: If I Hated You

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: It’s Valentine’s Day weekend, and it turns out Y/N isn’t the only one struggling with the breakup. Category: Smut (18+), Angst Content Warnings: Language, drinking/getting drunk, penetrative/unprotected sex (If I missed anything, please let me know!) Word Count: 5,538

SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

“My bedtime is the darkest, that’s when I’m brokenhearted. The nighttime is the hardest. It’d be easy, if I hated you.” —FLETCHER, If I Hated You

FEBRUARY 13th

It was Valentine's Day weekend, which sucked this time around. Every year for the past three years Y/N looked forward to Valentine's Day, but that was when she actually had someone to spend it with.

Well, someone she actually cared about, anyway... Whether or not Spencer actually knew it, she did really care about him. She was just stupid and didn't say it when he needed to hear it the most.

And now Valentine's Day was on Saturday and Y/N was still without him. Not alone, but still without the man who'd spent the significant holiday with her for the past three years. Memories of their dates and 'afterparties' flooded through her mind as she got ready for work like a montage, a cheesy love-song playlist she'd found on Spotify acting as the soundtrack.

Eventually she sighed and turned it off, opting for something more loud and obnoxious, and therefore not tainted by Spencer's memory. She applied what was left of her makeup and added a pair of earrings before turning the music off altogether and shoving her phone in her bag alongside her keys and other necessities.

Even though she wasn't emotionally prepared for all the cheesy Valentine's things she'd see and hear and experience throughout the weekend, it was still kind of nice to see that things in the bank never changed during the holidays— Everything in her life was so severely different at the moment, that if Marjorie had somehow decided to throw out all her elaborate decorations for each holiday, no matter how small, Y/N would have thought the world was truly ending.

Speaking of, she was met with Marjorie's brighter-than-the-sun smile almost immediately once she set her things in the breakroom.

"How's my little macaron this morning?" she chirped, Y/N chuckling slightly at the nickname— She brought macarons from the bakery down the street on her first birthday she spent at the bank, and ever since then, the older woman had adorned her with the namesake.

"She's alright, Marj... Better now that she's seen you..."

"That boy still on your mind, hon?"

Obviously Marjorie's intentions were good, but Y/N couldn't stand to think about the situation at all, least of all at work... So, setting her jacket on the rack, turned away so that her coworker wouldn't see the visible discomfort on her face, Y/N squeezed her eyes shut and cleared her throat. "So, what are your plans with Geno tomorrow night? Anything special?"

There was a brief pause before Marjorie cleared her throat as well. "Nothing short of our usual dinner plans, my dear. He's been so caught up with work at the Mill lately, I think we're just going to spend the night relaxing."

"Hm," Y/N said shortly, finally turning around and giving her the best smile she could. "Maybe I should take a page from your book and stay in..."

"You weren't going to?"

"No... Britt's been nagging me about getting out there so we're going out tomorrow night. We both haven't been single in a long time, so... Should be fun."

Marjorie didn't look convinced. Either way, she nodded with a smile and walked over to Y/N with something glittery and bright red in her hand— A cheap beaded necklace to clip her nametag onto. She draped it over Y/N's neck and patted her shoulders. "Well, I want you to have fun. And remember that you still have to come to work on Monday. Whatever shenanigans you get into should be reserved for Saturday night only so you can rest properly on Sunday, got it?"

Y/N laughed, thankful for the playful tone in Marjorie's voice. "Yes, Ma'am."

"Oh, I joke, I joke," the older woman said with a bright laugh, turning to walk out of the break room. "A little..."

The smile on Y/N's face only really lasted until after Marjorie was out of sight, then she went into her bag and clipped her nametag onto the red beaded necklace with a sigh.

Was she excited to have a good night out with Britt? Of course. Hell, had it been literally any other day of the year, she would have been practically bouncing off the walls with excitement at the idea of going out to a bar, letting men hit on her until she finally let one of them take her back to his place for the night.

But it just felt like it was too soon.

Either way, she was glad that she'd get to see Britt again, after she'd been on vacation for Christmas and New Year's to see her family and only got back a few weeks ago. She'd seen her on Facetime of course, and they met up once for coffee right after Britt got back from her trip, but a well-needed night out and quality time getting ready together was something that had been missing from their friendship for almost a year.

Y/N knew Britt would most likely spend her time trying to hook them up with end-of-the-night dates, but maybe it wouldn't be so bad...

Even still, sleeping alone the night before was probably one of the worst spells of loneliness she'd ever had. It was normal to be sad spending the first Valentine's Day in years away from a significant other, but knowing how things ended between them—bitter and stained with words left unsaid—this time was just... cold.

And that was putting it lightly.

Y/N laid in bed that night, her eyes wide open and staring at the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars that adorned the ceiling. They used to give her comfort, but now they just reminded her of all the nights she'd spend with Spencer, listening to him tell stories about the constellations. They were some of the most peaceful memories she had.

And now those, too—those stars that had grounded her pretty much all her life and reminded her of the better days—were tainted by her inability to properly communicate.

She almost thought about taking them down.

But if she was really going to get over him this time, for good, then she'd have to learn to make new memories with the stars. Even if it was painful. Even if replacing those memories and writing new ones over them absolutely tore her soul to pieces.

And, as if that pain wasn't enough, that night Y/N dreamt of him, making love to her amongst the stars in every galaxy, only to wake up the next morning cold and alone.

FEBRUARY 14th

She promptly decided that she hated his guts.

It was Valentine's Day, Y/N was respectfully buzzed, and courtesy of two beers and four shots of tequila, she'd just deleted Spencer's number from her phone.

"I'm done," she said, waving a hand at Britt and shoving her phone in her purse. "He doesn't deserve my wallowing."

"Yeah!"

Britt was significantly the more drunk of the two, resulting in a fit of giggles after gaining some stares from the people around them at her sudden outburst.

Y/N smiled, finishing off another shot and shaking her head. "We need more!"

"More shots!" Britt hurried off to grab them, leaving her friend behind with a half-drunken smile that also only felt half-genuine.

Sure, she decided she hated Spencer's guts, but her heart didn't exactly agree well with that sentiment. Even after deleting his number from her phone, after downing all that alcohol, her heart still ached.

Y/N knew deep down that getting over him was going to take some time. A lot of time... But maybe one night of distraction would help.

So the shots kept coming, and by the end of the night, Y/N was just about at her limit.

Which was near black-out drunk. And when you're that drunk you tend to make decisions you wouldn't soberly condone.

Britt got into a cab, and she begged Y/N to come with her, but she assured her friend that she had someone to come pick her up. Eventually the cab driver got tired of their inability to decide, and when Y/N told him to go, he did, leaving her alone on the side of the street at 1am.

Unfortunately, it was incredibly cold, and she didn't really have anyone to come pick her up. And that's where the bad decisions started.

Y/N pulled her phone out, a long sigh escaping her as she dialed the number by heart.

Would he even pick up? He hadn't answered any of her calls or texts before, so why would it have been any different now? Not to mention it was Valentine's Day Weekend. With her luck, he was probably in bed with someone else. Someone who wasn't her. As she listened to the dial tone repeating in her ear, images of him wrapped up with somebody else—sleeping in the bed she'd slept in many times before—clouded her drunken brain and made her more angry than anything.

Her gut twisted, and she almost hung up.

But then the low buzz of the dial tone abruptly stopped and in its place came his voice.

"Y/N?"

Her name on his lips, even through the phone, was grounding, the anger in her system melting away and revealing a coat of drunken relief.

"Spencer! You answered!"

"Yeah... Are you— Is everything okay?"

"Pff, yeah, 'm-fine. Just really fucking cold."

"You're not outside, are you?"

"Duh, I'm outside... I wouldn't be cold in-side... Besides, I didn't call t'alk bout the weather, I need you t'come pick me up."

There was a brief pause, and for a moment Y/N didn't think he was going to say anything she wanted to hear. She swayed on the sidewalk, shivering and praying that he would throw her a bone, even if she'd regret it all in the morning.

"Where are you?" he said finally, and despite herself, she smiled.

FEBRUARY 15th

Spencer couldn't believe he was picking her up at near two in the morning.

Honestly, he'd initially thought about ignoring her call again, but remembering the day it was and taking note of the time, he figured she was most likely in some type of inebriated trouble.

His instincts were right, of course, but he wished that he could have been wrong. He wished she'd only been calling to drunkenly ramble on about how she missed him or maybe how he was stupid and she never wanted to see his face ever again, because that was normal. At least then he could have hung up after she was done and never thought about it again— it was a normal step in any relationship that helped move things along. They could have gotten on with their lives and it would have all been over.

But of course it was never that simple.

Y/N was never that simple.

He pictured her on the street near some bar, alone and cold and drunk, and of course he would have been the only one she could call to rescue her. After all, he'd been pretty much the only thing she'd ever known to make her feel safe.

Still, he wished he was capable of only giving her a ride home and then leaving.

But again, it was never that simple.

It was easy getting her into the car— that wasn't what he was worried about. Rather, it was the fated moment where she'd ask him to stay after he finally got her tucked safely into bed that worried him. Because it was bad enough that it was Y/N... It was her in all her alluring glory, and he'd never been able to deny her anything no matter how badly he tried or wanted to.

Now add on the fact that she was drunk, and most likely sad on their first Valentine's Day apart, and it was a recipe for disaster.

Even if she'd broken his heart, Spencer still cared about her.

Which is why he inevitably agreed to stay, at least until she fell asleep.

He knew her well enough to know all the ways she'd try to get him under the covers with her, so it was a familiar amusement that settled in his being when he was finally able to get on top of the covers with her underneath. But as he entertained her silly little questions with the right answers until she fell asleep, Spencer noticed something else accompanying that amusement.

Guilt.

And then anger for feeling guilty about her sadness— sadness that could have been avoided had she just gotten over whatever was holding her back and either returned his "I love you" or  told him she wasn't feeling the same way just yet.

All she had to do was talk.

He had a right to feel upset about Y/N holding back when he'd been nothing but patient, spending almost every year of their relationship trying to make her see that she had nothing to be afraid of. He'd given her every chance to talk about what she was feeling, whether it was happy or not, and every time she pushed it all away in favor of sex.

That wasn't what he wanted in a relationship, so he ended it. And there was absolutely nothing wrong with that.

So why was he feeling so fucking guilty?

He blamed his good nature and innate need to please people, to make them feel good and happy. But he also blamed Y/N and her adorable drunken sleeping face.

He watched as she slept, willing himself not to forget the way she hurt him. She'd completely stolen his heart and shattered it at the same time, and if he was being honest, she still held some of the pieces. But he couldn't get them back, not if he didn't want to risk shattering her own heart in the process.

It felt like they were tied together by some strong, invisible force that wouldn't break unless both of them broke right along with it.

So... maybe he could afford to leave those pieces of his heart with her. He'd have to if they were going to get out of this alive. Not unscathed, sure, but alive nonetheless.

Once he was sure she was deep in sleep, Spencer quietly and carefully got off the bed and navigated through her apartment, getting her a glass of water and leaving it on the table next to her bed. And because he couldn't help it, he cleaned up some of the clothes that were scattered around her floor, depositing them into the hamper and straightening out a few more things that were out of place.

He looked over at her sleeping figure one more time, sighed, and then left, keeping her bedroom door open just a crack.

***

Spencer knew he shouldn't have stayed longer.

Despite his better judgement, he'd plopped himself down on her couch after making sure she was sound asleep, hoping to catch his breath and sort through what he was feeling before he got behind the wheel. But of course, it was 2am and he was exhausted, and he couldn't stop himself from closing his eyes and drifting off.

And now he was sitting up, looking around the apartment through the lens of morning.

Though the curtains were sheer, they didn't provide much light, but enough of it showed him just how familiar the space was. Y/N hadn't moved anything around. The same art was on the same walls, the potted ivy plant on her mantle sat un-watered and withering, and every book and record and DVD on her shelves was in the exact same spot as they'd all been the last time he was there in December.

Meanwhile, after the breakup he'd re-arranged everything. He was so sure that they were through for good this time around that he wanted a clean slate. Not that he wanted to rid himself of her memory completely, but if he was going to move on from the hold she'd had on him, he had to do something...

And yet, he ended up at her apartment the morning after Valentine's Day all the same.

He heard the shower running faintly a couple rooms away. You didn't have to pass the couch to get there, so maybe she hadn't seen him sleeping and he could get away cleanly.

Spencer scrambled off the couch, thankful that he hadn't removed his jacket or his shoes and that he could just sprint towards the door without having to find any of his belongings.

But as luck would have it, the second he took a step, the shower turned off. He had to get out of there quickly, but if he did then she'd definitely know he'd stayed overnight. But if he went quietly, he wouldn't have enough time before she caught him.

Maybe I could hide...

He shook the thought with a roll of his eyes, settling on the clearest course of action, which was to make as quick of a getaway as he could. He'd try to be quiet as well, though the creaky door was going to be nearly impossible to get through without a sound.

His hand was on the doorknob when he heard her voice.

"You didn't think you could spend the night and then leave without saying goodbye, did 'ja?"

The pure amusement in her tone made his stomach churn, and it wasn't unpleasant in the slightest.

Spencer turned and smiled softly, avoiding looking at her completely. "Sorry. Didn't want to bother you."

"You're never a bother."

That sentiment held less amusement and more sincerity, which was what guided his eyes to meet the woman who said the words.

His stomach twisted again when he saw her, exactly like he knew she'd be— wrapped in nothing but a thin towel with near-dripping hair cascading down her back. Her legs were bare and exposed, the towel not only thin but short, which meant that her chest was also practically spilling out of it. Despite the obvious and inevitable hungover look in her eye, there was also a good splash of that mischief that'd always been there— the kind that spelled out trouble.

He needed to get out of there.

"Well, um... I'm glad I got you home safe," he said, clearing his throat. "I should... I should go."

"You sure you don't wanna stay for breakfast?"

Spencer could have sworn she was teasing him, dangling her body in front of him like a meal they both knew he wouldn't be able to resist. But then she added, "I've got everything I need for your favorite omelet," and he exhaled with a small smile, exhausted with his own mind for convincing him that she was out to pull him back in.

Still, he declined. "No, I... I shouldn't. But, uh, thank you..."

"You sure?"

This time when he looked up at her, she was closer. She was gently striding forward to meet him, and he half thought about backing up towards the door until he realized he was already there.

"I—I'm sure. Really."

"But you drove around all night just to take me home when I was drunk, the least I can do is feed you..."

"Eh, it's alright. It's... Nothing I haven't done before."

She stopped then, her eyes briefly dropping to the floor. It was like her whole demeanor changed—just for a second—from the prowess she'd always been, to what seemed to be a woman filled with sadness and regret. It didn't last long though, just enough for Spencer to notice it before she looked back up at him with that wicked gleam in her eye and a remark right at the tip of her tongue.

"Still. I feel bad, making you do all that for me... Especially now."

He wasn't sure what to make of this... It seemed like she was sincere, but she was also alluring, calling to him like a siren leading him to his ultimate demise. And while he'd come to know that as merely a part of her nature, he couldn't help but shake the feeling that she was doing it on purpose.

She was in a skimpy towel, after all, and she definitely knew how to use that to her advantage.

It didn't help that he didn't have the courage to leave. Everything inside of him right then longed to drop that towel and indulge himself once more. Putting aside all the heartache and the differences they shared, all he felt in that moment was the need to touch her— to get lost in her and never be found again.

She was his fatal flaw, and it was painfully obvious.

Spencer knew he shouldn't have stayed longer...

He was over to her in just three strides, throwing off his jacket and tossing it aside before cradling her face with his hands and bringing their lips together for the first time since Christmas Eve.

The small whine in her throat signaled that she hadn't expected it, but welcomed it all the same. The moment she lifted her arms to wrap around his neck, the towel fell to the floor, and there was no going back.

"What about breakfast?" Y/N breathed out once they pulled away for air.

Spencer contemplated, studying her face, seeing the way her eyes sparkled, and decided on the two words that sealed his fate.

"Screw breakfast."

Their lips were melded together almost as soon as the words left his mouth. And it wasn't long before every other part of their bodies were melded together as well.

Y/N helped him take the rest of his clothes off as they danced around the entryway and the living room. Everything was open, no walls separating the living room from the kitchen, so to compensate for the lack of breakfast they'd be eating, they migrated to the kitchen counter once Spencer had off everything but his boxers.

He trapped her against the cool marble of the countertop, her back hitting it solid and sending a shiver up her spine. Meanwhile his hands roamed her body, unsure of where to be other than on her at all times, whether it be her waist, her stomach, her arms, her breasts, or her ass. He wanted to feel all of her, and quite frankly she wanted the same.

She even told him so, in her own way, by bringing one of her legs up and wrapping it around his waist, pulling him closer to her as she wove her fingers through his hair and tasted his tongue with her own.

The action elicited a groan from his mouth, low and desperate. Spencer settled his hands on her waist and gripped it tight, silently telling her what to do.

So she jumped up and he helped guide her swiftly onto the counter. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist again, and he found himself grinding into her hips, urgent to feel every part of her. And thankfully she was feeling rather desperate herself, because she rolled her hips up into him in return, breaking their mouths apart just briefly to speak.

"Fuck me..."

There was so much he wanted to say to her in that moment— how badly he was feeling about keeping her entertained while he was slowly deteriorating inside from her emotional detachment and rejection, how much she frustrated him, and more prominently, how she was so goddamn impatient and that he was getting there...

But all that he could manage was a broken, desperate whisper of her name.

It was all he'd ever known.

All that frustration... All that anger, heartache, passion, and time apart combined beautifully into those few syllables that made up her name and tore him apart from the inside out.

And his hands were just as destructive.

Spencer deftly dropped his boxers to the ground and pushed forward, almost losing all sense of self the moment the head of his dick finally made contact with her cunt. He made his way inside of her and then used both of his hands to grip her waist and bring her closer, their mouths connecting harshly as they found one another once again.

His grip was bruising— not possessive in any way, but desperate, like he had to cling to her for dear life or he wouldn't live to see another day. He held himself inside her, sighing and whimpering into her mouth as she clenched around him. It was so familiar, so comfortable and exhilarating that he almost didn't even want to move. He thought about staying there, still inside her forever.

But as always, Y/N was insatiable.

She wrapped all her limbs around him and held on, rolling her hips and seeking friction in any way possible when she briefly tore her lips away from his.

"I need you, baby, please..."

Even as his heart started to rumble in his chest, well aware of the fact that she still probably didn't love him the way he loved her, Spencer gave her everything. He pulled out and snapped his hips forward again, setting a strong, steady pace that had Y/N's eyes rolling back, and the payoff of hearing her sigh out his name was more than enough to keep him going.

Her nails dug deliciously into his shoulders, the faint sting adding something reminiscent of gasoline to a fire. The flames grew taller and brighter the more he fucked her, and with each gradual increase of volume and intensity, it was a wonder the whole kitchen around them hadn't literally burst into flames.

That's how they always were.

Together like this, so lost in the high of each others' bodies, it was easy to forget the things that made their relationship so hard. It was easy to let all the negativity slip away into the throes of pent-up, well-needed sex. The high they gave each other was merely that— A high...

A distraction.

And while that's exactly what Y/N needed, what she preferred in most cases, it's what Spencer recognized as completely unhealthy, despite his coming back to it every time.

It's also why he dreaded the moment ending. Because once they came down from the high, all that's left would be sadness, regret... Guilt... Their fire burned hot, brightly and wildly, but in the aftermath would lay only a thick layer of deadly smoke between them— hard to navigate, and nearly impossible to breathe in without suffocating.

So they simply burned and burned and burned...

Spencer gripped her so tight he was sure to leave her with bruising. And in turn Y/N dragged her nails down his back and dug them into his ass, her palm laying firmly over the muscles that aided in fucking her into the marbled surface. She whined out curses and moans, and he cried out broken whispers of her name, pet names, and curses alike.

Even once she'd come, he kept going, willing himself to hold on as long as he could. She whined into his ear at the overstimulation. And rather than keeping her legs wrapped around his body, she decided to spread them wide, perching her heels up on the counter as far as she could go and anchoring her fingers through his hair.

And though she might not have had enough orgasms in her to keep up with him, she welcomed it all the same—She welcomed the burn just as much as he did.

Even still, no fire can burn forever.

All concept of time was lost by the time Spencer finally collapsed forward, completely spent and barely standing on weak legs after coming twice. Y/N held onto him tightly to keep him upwards, lightly massaging his scalp with gentle fingers and closing her eyes as she focused on his breathing— the way it fanned over the skin of her bare shoulder and how it sounded, perfectly in time with hers...

It was the most peaceful she'd been in a long time.

She felt him pull out of her, the both of them groaning at the feeling, and a little at the mess it would make.

Spencer gently peeled his body off of hers, sniffing once and avoiding her eyes. "Sorry... You just got out of the shower..."

"It's fine," Y/N breathed. She begged him silently to look her in the eye, but he remained still... Most likely thinking. She could practically see the cogs turning in his brain.

So, in an effort to lighten the mood a bit, she added with a breathy laugh, "Besides... It's nothing I haven't done before."

The callback to his words—and memories of all the times they'd found themselves in this position before—got Spencer to laugh a little, but he still wouldn't meet her eyes.

Finally, he cleared his throat. "I'll... I'll grab the wipes?"

"Oh. Sure," Y/N returned with a thankful smile. It was hopeful, too, though the moment he was out of eyesight, it turned rather sad.

She'd known that behavior before, seen that hesitation in his movements and that sound in his voice.

It was guilt.

Regret.

Probably a bit of self-hatred, too.

When he returned, a pile of her clothes in hand and the bag of wipes on top, she took them from him with a kind smile and cleaned herself up while he put his clothes back on.

The silence was more uncomfortable than anything either of them had ever experienced.

So much so, that Y/N couldn't even muster up the courage to ask him to stay for breakfast— and she always did after one of their post-break hookups.

Maybe this time really was different.

Spencer was just at the door again when she stopped him.

"Thank you," she said. Her voice was so small, he almost didn't hear it. "For bringing me home..."

But he paused, turned, and finally looked her in the eye.

He almost sunk to his knees right there...

Seeing her, arms crossed like she was trying to keep warm, as her head hung low and she looked up at him through sad, hooded eyelids...

It reminded him of the woman he fell in love with.

But in his peripheral, he saw the towel on the floor and was reminded of the woman who'd shattered his heart.

Spencer cleared his throat. Once upon a time he might have returned her thanks with, Anytime, but... Honestly he wasn't sure there could ever be another time. For his sanity, he'd have to avoid 'anytime' at all costs.

So, he settled on, "You're welcome."

He was glad to see her return his kind smile with one of her own, even if it was tainted with sadness, and a small wave goodbye.

Maybe this time it would stick.

Even still, as he closed the door behind him and made his way to the parking lot, for some reason it didn't quite feel like goodbye.

And some of that deadly smoke that settled in his lungs as he drove further and further away from her apartment was inclined to agree.

***

Neither of them could sleep that night.

While Spencer stared out the window of the jet, a little annoyed to be called out on a case so late but at least thankful for the distraction, Y/N laid in bed, staring at the stars on her ceiling.

The same constellation caught their eye.

Columba.

The Dove.

She hadn't even meant to arrange the stars like that, but one night after a date, they were laying in her bed and Spencer pointed out that the cluster of plastic stars right in the corner of the ceiling looked like Columba.

Y/N fondly remembered Spencer telling her about how it was originally named to represent Noah's dove, which searched for dry land during the great biblical flood and returned carrying an olive branch to make news of its recession— of peace at last.

The memory made her smile. It tugged at her heart and made her dreams of him even more vivid.

All the same, Spencer noticed the constellation outside the jet window and remembered that same night. The smile on her face as he told her the story, the feel of her fingers gliding softly over the bare skin of his forearm...

It was the first night since he'd met her that he thought it.

I love her...

He almost told her then, too, but he was afraid it was too soon. So he refrained.

Looking back, Spencer was starting to regret that— Maybe without that extra time together, breaking up would have been easier. But instead, he gave her more time. He gave himself more time to fall deeper in love with her, and in the end it still wasn't enough.

Now they were both looking at the same constellation, one made of plastic and the other of gas, wondering if their flood would ever recede.

And in the event that it did... Who would be the dove, and what would be their olive branch?

“You know I dream about getting back together in the future, I could focus on you. But if I leave right now, I hope that you don’t find someone that touches you the way that I do...”

***

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[bonktime]

Take a Breath

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

Masterlist

Rated: Explicit

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

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

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

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

Wordcount: 22k

~~~~~~~~

It's not the worst planet to crash on.

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

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

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

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

You ignore them, don't lose count. Ok

Three… two… one…

You close your eyes and pull.

You don't open your eyes.

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

⧫⧫⧫

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

You do.

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

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

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

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

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

Your helmet is shattered.

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

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

You walk on.

⧫⧫⧫

15 minutes left.

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

7 minutes left.

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

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

Clever buggers divided and conquered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrug, “It was him or me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

6 minutes.

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

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

3 minutes.

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

2 minutes.

At least it's quiet.

1 minute.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lie back” you tell him

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⧫⧫⧫

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

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

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

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

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

⧫⧫⧫

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You squeeze your eyes shut.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Even split it is then.”

⧫⧫⧫

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⧫⧫⧫

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⧫⧫⧫

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you confident you wish to slumber there?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⧫⧫⧫

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

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

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

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

“Right then birdie. I await your call.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⧫⧫⧫

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

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

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

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

You chuckle, “Habit I guess.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⧫⧫⧫

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

Until the morning he wakes first. 

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

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

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

⧫⧫⧫

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⧫⧫⧫

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⧫⧫⧫

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⧫⧫⧫

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please Ezra, move! fuck me”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ezra smiles grimly, “If we're lucky.”

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

You shrug, “Depends what it is.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⧫⧫⧫

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⧫⧫⧫

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Take care of that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He spins when he hears your voice.

“Wait, wait!”

“You should have stayed away-“

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

“Thank you, Ezra.”

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

“Think nothing of it.”

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

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

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

He nods, “Give me three coins.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shove it into your bag.

⧫⧫⧫

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

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

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

You shoot too late. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ezra, don't…”

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

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

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

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

There are two locals at the door. They turn.

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

⧫⧫⧫

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

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

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

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

You don't know when you started crying.

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

It's dead silent.

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

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

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

And then his chest moves. 

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

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

⧫⧫⧫

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

⧫⧫⧫

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

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

⧫⧫⧫

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

⧫⧫⧫

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

Again, you barely sleep.

⧫⧫⧫

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The next day you leave.

⧫⧫⧫

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His jaw drops. “That is remarkable.”

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

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

“Ezra?”

“Mmhm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

⧫⧫⧫

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

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

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

You smile.

~~~~~~~~

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