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pedros-husband · 10 months

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You have a big ass

pedro pascal characters x male/gn! reader

characters included: Javier Pena, Joel miller, Javi Gutierrez, Marcus Moreno, Ezra, Din Djarin, Frankie Morales, agent whiskey, Silva, Oberyn Martell

javier pena: he loves a juicy ass so his eyes are constantly on yours, especially if you wear any of his 70's style jeans. he has no shame so wether your in the office, in town, or at home he will slap your ass or squeeze it. he especially likes it if your bent over someones desk trying to speak to them, he loves picturing how you'd look bent over his desk whilst he fucks you.

Joel miller: hes not into PDA so he'll only ever stare at your ass if your in public, but he'll still do it shamelessly. sometimes he'll let you walk ahead with someone else on patrol or by yourself simply so he can stare at your ass and they way your jeans cling to it, or the way yoour hips move at each step, making your ass jut out.

when yoru at home though, hes completely different. he has absolutely no self restraint when your in the comfort of your house and no ones prying eyes are on you. he'll smack, slap, kneed your ass, at every chance he gets, in the morning or evening thoguh he loves smacking your ass in the morning whilst you make coffee, making you stand up straight and let out a surprised snort, snapping you awake.

Javi Gutierrez: he’s a sucker for you in anyway possible and he loves praising you in any shape or form so he loves commenting on how much he loves your body, especially your ass. When your cuddling his hands will subconsciously move to rest on your ass, sexually and non sexually. If he’s feeling more frisky he’ll squeeze and/or slap your ass. He’s also a sucker for making you feel good and he loves eating you out. (I totally see him as a power bottom)

Marcus Moreno: he’s super cheesy and I can totally see him as that chest single dad so he’ll mostly make cheeky comments and jokes about your ass (In a cute way though) he totally loves eating you out and holding your ass cheeks as he does so, because like javi he’s all for making you feel good and giving you the pleasure, because he gets pleasure from yours.

Ezra: he is a man of words and poems so he’ll go on long tangents about how much he just loves your ass or he’ll talk in great detail about what he wants to do to your ass/ with it. He also likes smacking your ass when you don’t expect it.

Din djarin: he’s not very touchy especially because he’s spent most of his life alone, but he’ll admire the way your armour/clothes cling to your ass. He loves watching you work or train in silence, he is so grateful of his helmet so you can’t tell that his gaze is almost permanently on your ass. When you do get more intimate or touchy he’ll mumble about how sexy your ass is and if he’s feeling particularly bold he’ll grab it and pick you up, punning you against the wall.

Frankie morales: he also is shameless in public so he’ll smack/slap your ass as a greeting or in passing. He smirks when you gasp and smack his arm, smiling at your angry blushing face. In bed/cuddling he’ll

Agent whiskey: he’s got no shame as well, in public, at work, or at home. He loves if you wear tight fitting jeans and if you do he looses all self restraint. If it’s in the office he’ll fully pick you up by your ass and onto his desk, he can and will take you at work, tequila and ginger are used to it by now and have earplugs for when you do it. He’s slap your ass as he walks by you as reflex, sometimes he doesn’t even realise he’s doing it.

Silva: he’s so sweet and soft for you, but he worships you and your body so he’ll constantly mumble under his breath to you about how much he loves your ass, how it drives him wild. When cuddling on the bed/couch he’ll pull you into his chest by your ass cheeks and knees them softly.

Oberyn martell: everyone knows he’s a complete man whore with no shame at all. Hell fuck you all over the palace and in the garden. So sometimes he’ll slip out of meeting and duties just to watch you train, admiring the way your armour and underclothes excentuate your ass. Hell not necessarily slap your ass but he does like to knees it in his hands and watch as it goes redder with his touch. He also likes eating you out and holding your ass cheeks as he does so.

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I didn’t include as many characters this time because this serves as more of a placeholder whilst I finish my main fic that hopefully should be finished soon. It’s already over 1.5k long and I’m not halfway finished yet 😅

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pedroshotwifey · 3 months

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A Real Man Frankie Morales x plus size!fem!reader - Frankie has you sit on his face. (1.2k)

Fucking Mine Dave York x fem!reader - You help Dave get out some frustrations. (839)

One Condition Marcus Pike x fem!reader x Ezra (Prospect) - You and your partner, Marcus Pike, get stranded on an inhabited planet and run into problem after problem. You find yourselves in a compromising position that requires help from a strange man, who comes to you with one condition. (4.9k)

Cramped Innocent!Din Djarin x GN!reader - As you tried to explain, the two of you really don't fit in the cockpit. (927)

Bargian Javier Peña x male!reader - You and Javi play through one of your scandalous fantasies (2.1k)

Salty Sweet Javier Peña x fem!reader - Javi eats you out on your birthday---with a deliciously kinky twist (1.3k)

Better Ezra x f!reader - You join Ezra on his unscheduled break, not knowing you're in for the ride of your lifetime. (2k)

Good 'n' Deep Fat!Frankie Morales x f!reader - Fat Frankie can't be sated. (2.6k)

What Matters Older Joel Miller x f!reader - Your and Joel's first time together turns into so much more. (1.9k)

Needy Sub!Frankie Morales x dom!f!reader - Frankie gives you control for the night and you make sure he gets the most out of it. (1.6k)

Tease Sub!Dieter Bravo x sub!GN!reader x dom!Dave York - You and Dieter think it's fun to tease Dave, and Dave thinks he should teach you both a lesson for it. (2.4k)

Toeing the Line fwb!Marcus Pike x f!reader - Can you really just be "friends"? (740)

Song fic requests:

Haunted QZ!Joel Miller x afab!reader - Haunted by Beyonce

Requested Drabbles

Want some help on what to request? Try one of these links! (Make sure to specify which prompt list you’re using or I will assume it’s prompt list 1 :)

Prompt list 1

Prompt list 2

Prompt list 3

Prompt list 4

I am also willing to write for JDM characters (love me some Negan 🤭) , Oscar Isaac characters, Cassian Andor, and Rick Grimes! Feel free to suggest a different character and I’ll see what I can do! ❤️

Small letter about the requests (basically saying that this is a safe space for all of you to request whatever you'd like!)

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aliorsboxostuff · 1 year

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MALE!READER WRITING REQUESTS (TEMP) CLOSED !

Come check out my works bellow!

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

RULES:

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

NOTE: I NEVER USE ANY FORM OF Y/N IN MY FICS. I find them kind of weird for me to write so my fics are mostly 1st Person POV. I write most of my fics based off on Fixations that may last a couple weeks, months, years. If you've requested something but havent seen the fic, that might be because i've lost interest!

What i will write:

male!reader

gender-neutral reader

Ftm! Reader

Smut

Platonic or Romantic relationships

angst

fluff

comfort

headcanons

nsfw alphabets

drabbles

Series

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

What I Won't write:

female!reader

underage characters (anyone under 17)

necrophilia

real people

pedophilia

Omorashi

age play

rape/non-con

incest

offensive/harmful things

THE CHARACTER LIST! Or, characters I will definitely write about if requested!

PEDRO PASCAL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE

Ezra (prospect)

Joel Miller

Javi Gutierrez

Javier Peña

Frankie Morales

Whiskey (Kingsman)

Tim Rockford (yes from the Ad)

TOP GUN 86’ & TOP GUN: MAVERICK

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw

MARVEL & XMCU

Miguel O'hara (ATSV)

Hobie Brown (Platonic/fluff only)

Pavitr Prabhakar (Platonic/fluff only)

Kurt Wagner (xmcu)

Loki Laufeyson

Bucky Barnes

Moon Knight System

Deadpool

Daredevil

Eddie and Venom (They come as a pair)

BULLET TRAIN

Tangerine

Ladybug

Jujutsu Kaisen

Satoru Gojo

Nanami Kento

Higuruma Hiromi

Ryoumen Sukuna

Yuuji Itadori (Fluff)

Toge Inumaki (Fluff)

DETROIT: BECOME HUMAN

Connor (RK800)

Nines (RK900)

COD MODERN WARFARE II

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

John 'Soap' Mactavish

König

HONORABLE MENTIONS

Chris Knight (Real Genius)

Hannibal (NBC)

The Corinthian (Netflix Sandman)

Leon S. Kennedy (RE4 Remake)

Luis Serra (RE4 Remake)

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

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

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

Steven Grant/Male Reader fluff

XMEN Family Pride Fic

Steven Grant/Male Reader Smut #1

Steven Grant/Male Reader Smut #2

Deadpool/Male Reader Fluff Confession

Deadpool/Ftm Reader Smut

Robert 'Bob' Floyd/Male Reader Fluff

Robert 'Bob' Floyd/Male Reader sunshine x grumpy

Tangerine/Male Reader Fluff/Angst Mature

Tangerine/Male Reader Mature

Tangerine/Male Reader (Escort Fic) Mature

Tangerine/NB Reader Teen&Up

Tangerine/Gender-Fluid Reader (Coming out fic)

Francisco "Catfish" Morales/Husband Reader

Joel Miller/Ftm Reader & Ellie Fluff

Joel Miller & Kid Reader

Joel Miller/Ftm Reader & Tess Fluff a bit Angst

Miguel O'hara/Male Reader Fluff

Miguel O'hara/Male Reader Spicy Fluff

Miguel O'hara/Male&GN Reader Spicy Fluff

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

Din Djarin/Boyfriend Reader Smut

And the Short Fics/Drabbles on Tumblr!

Pulse (Tangerine/M!reader)

Deep Dive (Namor/M!reader)

Hold Tight (Tangerine/gn Reader)

Ner Mesh'la (Din Djarin/Male Reader)

Trinkets (Kurt Wagner/Gender-fluid Reader)

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

Little Nap! (Meows Morales Drabble)

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

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

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alwaysmicado · 6 months

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incomplete

2.2k | Ezra x gn!reader | one-shot

established relationship, negative body image, anxiety attack, emotional support Summary: Ezra has not been the same since losing his arm in the Green. When he suffers an anxiety attack, he reveals his biggest fear — not being enough for you. A/N: I love Ezra with all my heart and I can only imagine how difficult it must be to navigate life after losing an arm, especially in “ordinary” situations such as hugging the person he loves. I just had to give him reassurance and comfort. 🤍 masterlist | AO3

“It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.”

- Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince

The dim glow of the moonlight casts a soft illumination across the room, highlighting shadows that dance on the walls. The silence of the night is broken by a subtle sound — a muffled sob that echoes through the otherwise quiet hut. You lie on your cot, eyes wide open, unable to ignore the pattern that has emerged over the past few nights any longer.

Ezra, the enigmatic prospector you’ve come to recognize and admire for his strength and composure over the past year of your partnership, is struggling.

You can hear him pacing in the living area, a restless energy evident in each step. Occasionally, a stifled whimper escapes him, the weight of his emotions too much to contain. It’s a painful symphony of anxiety that unfolds behind the closed door.

As much as you want to respect his privacy, the concern gnaws at you, urging you to offer support. You slip out of your covers and put on your sweater, guided by the muted sounds emanating from your partner. The door creaks softly as you open it, revealing Ezra standing near the window, his silhouette framed by the moonlight.

His gaze is fixed on the distant moon, his shoulders are hunched, and his hand grips the edge of the windowsill as if anchoring himself in a storm. His breathing is rapid, shallow, and you can see the distress in his eyes.

It’s clear that he’s in the midst of an anxiety attack.

You immediately move towards him, concern etching your features. “Ezra, hey, what’s going on?” Your voice is soft, trying to cut through the chaotic thoughts that might be racing through his mind.

He looks up at you, his eyes wide with panic, and it takes a moment for him to register your presence. “I–I don’t know,” he stammers, his words coming out in fragments. “It just–it hit me.”

You move to stand beside him, giving him some space while remaining close enough to offer comfort. “It’s okay, Ezra. I’m here. Take deep breaths with me, alright?” You model the slow, deliberate inhales and exhales, hoping he’ll follow suit.

He tries to mimic your breathing, but it’s clear that the anxiety has a tight grip on him. His chest rises and falls rapidly, and his attempts to regulate his breath are met with resistance.

“Focus on me, Ezra,” you encourage, gently placing a hand on his back to rub soothing circles into his strained muscles. “You’re safe here. Let’s try it together. In…and out.”

It takes a while, but gradually, his breathing starts to sync with yours. The rhythm becomes steadier, and you can feel some of the tension beginning to dissipate. Still, his eyes are wide with residual fear.

“Do you think you can tell me what triggered this?” you ask, your voice soft and understanding, sympathy evident in your eyes.

Ezra shakes his head and lifts his gaze to meet yours, struggling to find the words to properly convey the inner turmoil he is facing. “I don’t know,” he admits, his voice breaking.

“Everything just felt...overwhelming. I couldn’t catch my breath for the life of me, and my mind started racing like a runaway train — thoughts careening in every direction. Images, memories, and possibilities colliding, creating a chaotic symphony of ideas that I struggled to make sense of.”

You nod, recognizing the unpredictable nature of anxiety. “It’s alright, Ezra,” you coo. “Sometimes, our minds can play tricks on us and cause us to feel everything at once.” You continue tenderly rubbing his back. “What’s important is that you’re not alone, and I need you to know that you’re not alone.”

Ezra takes another deep breath and nods weakly, the color slowly returning to his face. “I am truly sorry for disturbing your peace, sugar plum,” he mumbles, apologizing for something beyond his control.

“You don’t need to apologize,” you reassure him, a comforting smile gracing your lips.

When you feel his muscles tense again, you can’t help but furrow your brow with worry. “Look at me, Ezra,” you prompt quietly, reaching out to gently place a hand on his arm. “Will you tell me what’s going on? I might be able to help, you know.”

You search his dark eyes and softly rub the skin beneath his shirt’s short sleeve. “But I need you to let me in.”

He looks out of the window again, avoiding your gaze, and you can see the remnants of dread in his eyes, vulnerability evident in the set of his shoulders.

“There’s nothing going on that needs to trouble that beautiful mind of yours, sugar plum. Just a rough night.” He shakes his head and glances at you, sensing that his attempt at deception, in this case for your own good, is not having its desired effect.

You know him too well, know the man behind the rugged, sly persona he’s been cultivating as a survival tactic. You know what’s hidden beneath, shielded from prying eyes, only revealed to the people who are worthy of his love and devotion — first Cee, now you.

“Ezra, I’ve heard you. I’ve heard you pacing, and I’ve heard the tears. It’s not ‘nothing’.” You cup his cheek with your hand, your eyes boring into his. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

He takes a deep breath, the facade slipping away as he meets your eyes, his shoulders trembling slightly. He hesitates for a moment, as if searching for the right words. “I just–I cannot seem to shake this feeling, this overwhelming feeling of grief and hopelessness that is threatening to pull me down into the depths of darkness every time I am alone with my thoughts.”

You see the tears welling up in his eyes and feel your heart break in your chest.

Ezra looks away, trying to contain the flood of emotions threatening to spill over. “I thought I could handle the memories floating around in my mind, memories of death, destruction, greed, loss. I honestly, truly thought I could move on with my life, be a better man for you and Cee, and lead an honorable life here in our community. On this stunning piece of land I am so fortunate to find myself on.”

He clenches his fist, and closes his eyes.

“But it is always there, always, always there. No matter what I do. No matter how hard I try. It is always lurking in the shadows of my existence, following me, holding me back.” He sighs deeply and opens his eyes to look at you, his brow furrowed. “I am haunted by the absence of my arm. I miss him deeply, in everything I do. And at night, when darkness takes over, when everything is quiet, it is all I can think about.

It’s a pain that goes beyond the physical, a yearning for a wholeness that seems elusive.”

He turns to face you fully, gently tracing your cheek with the back of his fingers. Your heart aches for him, understanding the weight of his words.

“I am broken beyond repair, my darling, and I cannot help but feel that you would be better off if I was go–”

Without a word, you wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a warm and reassuring embrace. Ezra hesitates for a moment, surprised by the sudden contact, but then he leans into the hug, allowing himself to be enveloped by the comfort you offer.

The room around you is silent, and all that can be heard is the subtle sound of his breath.

You can feel the tension in Ezra’s body as he wraps his arm around you, the heavy burden, the weight of his grief he’s been carrying alone all this time. Slowly, you start to sway gently, a rhythm that seems to soothe the troubled thoughts that linger in his mind. The embrace is tight but gentle, a silent reassurance that he’s not alone — and that you’re not going anywhere.

As you hold him, you sense a subtle shift in his demeanor. A quiver runs through his body, and you realize he’s starting to cry. It’s a quiet, almost imperceptible release of emotions that he's been holding back for too long. You tighten your grip, offering him a safe space to let go.

“You’re not alone in this, Ezra,” you whisper. “Losing a part of yourself is a profound loss and it’s okay to hurt. It’s okay to grieve. And you don’t have to be silent about it. I’m here for you.”

After a while, the tears subside, and you loosen your embrace just enough to look into his eyes with sincerity, keeping your hands on his shoulders.

Ezra’s eyes glisten with hurt and uncertainty, something you’ve never seen in them before. You brush away a stray tear from his cheek, your touch gentle and calming.

“I cannot adequately describe how much I despise myself for not being able to do this properly — the way you deserve, my precious sugar plum,” he murmurs, pain straining his voice.

You tilt your head in confusion, unable to decipher what exactly he’s talking about. “What do you mean?” you ask softly, a reassuring smile prompting him to answer you.

“This,” he whispers as he pulls you closer, resting his forehead against yours with closed eyes. “I cannot help but think about how my missing arm, my incompleteness, prevents me from embracing you properly. You deserve the world, my darling, and I can’t even present you with a hug. You deserve a man who can hold you close and show you the love and affection you deserve, and I am truly sorry for having deprived you for so long.”

You pull away enough to look into his eyes again, anger now simmering beneath your skin.

How dare this capable, intelligent, and loyal man entertain the notion that he deprived you of anything. Throughout your time together, all he’s done is take care of you, offering you a life teeming with adventure and love. It’s unfathomable that, even for a fleeting moment, he would think you’d be better off without him.

“I love you, Ezra, and I understand what you’re trying to say, I really do,” you say as calmly as possible, taking deep breaths. “But I need you to listen to me very carefully now because I need you to hear and understand every word. Can you do that?”

“Of course, my darling,” he answers with a nod. “You have my undivided attention.”

Your features soften as you witness the sad admiration in his gaze. “I can’t imagine how unimaginably traumatizing it must have been to lose your arm, having to adapt and relearn everything you knew how to do before. But you did it, you persevered. Because you are strong.”

You lift your hand to cup his cheek, causing him to lean into your touch immediately. “I have seen the incredible progress you’ve made since you and Cee arrived here and, Ezra, I’m so fucking proud of you.”

He looks at you, a mix of gratitude and disbelief in his eyes, a single tear making its way down his cheek.

“But I can’t even hug you. I can’t hold you like I want to, like I should be able to.”

You smile, reaching up to wipe away the tear. “Ezra, a hug is not just about arms. It’s about connection, about being close to someone. And in case you haven’t noticed, our hug right now is pretty perfect to me.”

He chuckles through a tear-streaked smile, a flicker of relief in his eyes. “You really think so, sugar plum?”

“I know so,” you affirm with a genuine smile on your lips. “Your worth isn’t determined by the number of limbs you have. It’s about the person you are, the heart you have, and the way you make people feel — what matters is this.”

You gently take his hand and guide it to your chest, so he can feel the steady rhythm of your heart beneath the fabric of your sweater. “You feel this?” He nods slowly as you put your hand on his chest to feel his heartbeat.

“You aren’t broken, my love. You’re human.”

Ezra takes a moment to absorb your words, and you can see a shift in his demeanor. The weight on his shoulders seems to lighten and you can see the spark in his beautiful, dark eyes return.

“You’re perfect just the way you are, Ezra,” you coo. “And if you ever feel the darkness pull at you again, try to remember that you have someone here who sees you, all of you, and thinks the absolute world of you.”

He nods, his signature smile spreading across his face. “Thank you, my darling,” he says, his voice filled with gratitude.

You pull him back into your arms, holding him close once more.

In that moment, you both find solace in the simple act of being together. The room is filled with the quiet understanding that perfection isn’t about the absence of flaws but about embracing every part of oneself — scars and all.

“After all my time floating through this forsaken universe, searching for meaning,” he murmurs into your ear, a soft smile gracing his lips, “it turns out that love is the answer. Quite poetic, don’t you think?” —

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ladamedusoif · 5 months

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Stars (Ezra x gn!Reader)

A Merry Fic-Mas - December 11

Part of A Merry Fic-Mas: A Holiday Fic Calendar - click for masterlist, and follow @ladameecrit for my writing updates.

Pairing: Ezra x gn!Reader (nicknamed “Lumen”)

Warnings: None

Rating: Teen

Word count: 350

Summary: What is a talker to do when he doesn’t have anyone to talk to?

Ezra talks to you when the inky blue-black creeps in and reveals the backdrop of stars burning in the outer reaches of space.

He leans back against a tree and tilts his face up towards the sky, the perfect curve of his nose tracing a path through the heavens.

“A well-lit firmament this night, sweet Lumen.”

He pauses to imagine your response. You might admire the glow of the moons, he muses. Might even suggest they gave enough light for carrying on with the journey through the night.

“Perhaps. But we might equally rest here awhile, imagine a future plotted out for us in incandescent nebulae.”

You had always been sceptical of the symbolic weight some people still attached to stars. Pretty, yes; but more importantly useful, a navigational aid, not a portent or sign. Just far away matter burning out in a constant cycle of reaction and collapse.

Ezra was a pragmatic man, and at times a ruthless one. But he had a poet’s soul, and he saw beyond their constituent parts and the prosaic facts of science to find a purer kind of truth in the stars.

“Isn’t it a comfort and a kindness that they give light even as they near their ends, Lumen? They live so many thousands of our lifetimes that they might as well be eternal to us mere mortals.”

He turns his head and sighs, the moons and stars reflected in his visor and his pitch-dark eyes.

“I make no apologies for seeking eternity through the stars. They are my one true constant. All others see fit to desert me, after a fashion.”

His eyes scan the heavens over and over, searching endlessly for a sign. A movement, a shift in the constellations, anything.

A sign, a suggestion you might yet return, however impossible now the prospect.

He exhales and leans forward, resting his chin on his chest inside the suit.

“You were once my constant, too.”

Ezra closes his eyes, and wills a star to guide you home.

#a merry fic-mas #holiday fic calendar #ezra prospect #ezra prospect x reader #ezra prospect x gn!reader #ezra prospect fanfiction #prospect fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal

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simpingcowboy · 1 year

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Kisses of Fire

Pairing: Ezra x GN!Reader, no use of Y/N, reader is a prospector

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: canon like violence, blood, kissing?, non-explicit mentions of sex/oral sex, pet names

Summary: Your relationship with Ezra was a delicate one. Reliant on convenience and mutual pleasure, but at one point everything changed.

A/N: May's Year of ABBA, as part of Year of Creations @yearofcreation2023 brings us to my first ever Ezra fic! He was a bit intimidating, but I'm happy to have given him a shot! :) You can listen to the song here as Tumblr hates ABBA and will not let me properly link it.

"Oh Nova…what have you done to me?" Ezra asks in the dark. The pale light of the moon barely penetrates the nylon tent. What light there is has cast a soft yellow glow over the entirety of your belongings as well as both your bodies.

Your head on his chest, sleeping to the sound of his heart beat. His fingers dance over your parted lips. Searching…digging in the dark for an answer to explain one of his life's more recent mysteries. A nick of flint…he reckons. Reasons it to be the cause for the spark he feels each time you kiss. But as his finger drags over your lips, eyes too inspecting best he can in the dark, all Ezra can feel is the softness of your flesh and a pounding in his heart.

Ezra has had his share of love affairs. Men, women, anyone between or beyond…made no difference to the prospector. Who was he to be selective when The Green itself took all equally? And in his many cycles of solitude and isolation, he learned early on to take what he was offered. A lesson you too had caught onto quickly.

You'd never been helpless. Surviving on your own for many cycles of your own, before you crossed his path. Star crossed lovers meet out on the open green, guns pointed, feet braced, waiting for the other to make the first move. The opportunity of which is swept up by Ezra.

"Well well well…to what do I owe the pleasure?" He says with a grin, his voice low and raspy. A foreign twange in his voice that pulls you in.

"I'm a prospector." You answer simply, gesturing to the untouched dig site between the two of you.

"As are most on this moon, Nebula." He states, taking in the sprinkle of vermillion dust coating your dark black suit. "I'm gonna need you to get more specific. You see …this here dig holds my next harvest." The man explains, emphasizing his perceived ownership over the ditch. "So I ask again, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

It's a test. As most things are on the green. A test of nerves. Of skill. Of determination. All of which you forged during your time on the green. "I was under the assumption this dig held my next harvest." You retort.

He scoffs with the tilt of his head, which clears the glare from.his helmet allowing you to see the face of the stranger for the first time. A blonde streak through his hair. "Then you have assumed incorrectly." As you go to respond he stops you. "Though…I am a man of reason. I do not see why this could not be our harvest."

You squint at his words, uncertain of the nature of his offer. "And why should I share?"

The man smirks, appreciating your attitude. "I have something you want. I have supplies. Food. Water. My pod, not far from here. Would make for easy harvesting."

Through your helmet, you can tell he's not lying. His body language is far too relaxed to be telling an outright lie. "And what is it you want from me?"

His mouth goes a little dry at his own proposition. "I want you, Nebula. Sweet stardust, to warm my bed for the duration of our shared excavation.”

The proposition is not a new one, though certainly a curious one. And had you never heard of the man with a blonde streak in his hair and with half an arm gone, perhaps you’d been more cautious than you were. Perhaps you’d never have agreed to such a delicate arrangement. At the least it would have taken much more convincing than it did.

Ezra can tell by the long look in your eyes, and the time you take to respond you’re debating the offer. “Come on Little Nebula…You know it is not a bad proposition. Food. Shelter. Half a harvest. Split right down the middle. And whilst I do not consider myself of Keeva’s most beautiful creations…there are far uglier things on The Green. Though- I am afraid I have one amendment before you decide to agree.”

You nod, urging him on.

“No kissing.” He says flatly, before the vibrancy returns to his character. “Though I am certain you can find much more noble uses for my mouth… if you agree.”

And agree you do.

That was the start of it. Two prospectors sharing in the splendors of greed by day and lust by night. You soon learned how well you worked together; getting through the excavation at an impressive speed. Your two hands proved useful where his one hand struggled. His sharper senses kept you both out of harm’s way on more than one occasion. Then of course, was the shared glory you found at night. Ezra’s many lovers proved him a well experienced man. While his stipulation about kissing went mostly unexplained aside from his general rejection of romanticism, you had found many more pleasurable uses for his mouth than kissing would provide.

The blonde streaked man was not what you'd imagined he'd be. Ezra was something of a myth on The Green. The reputation that precedes his actual involvement in your life had you believing him to be nothing short of a magic man. A survivor of the unsurvivable. A man who spoke in strange riddles and rhymes. One who felt he was almost plucked from another time and brought to yours. A man who'd been here more cycles than most any other prospector on the planet without losing his mind.

Of all the tales told of the strange man, one thing was consistent. Ezra was sincere. Straightforward, as long as you could decipher his odd tongue. Forthcoming of his intentions. So when he explained his desire to split the harvest, you suspected no deception on his behalf.

What you were not suspecting, was how much you'd like Ezra. Quickly growing fond of his eccentricities and of how he pleased you. How strange, you thought, that of all places The Green would be where you'd first foolishly fall for a man who would never love you back. A man who would abandon you when you no longer served your purpose. But in the warmth of his bed, as you press kisses along his cheek, you allow yourself to imagine that the romantic spark would grow to a flame.

Ezra was unsure of when the shift occurred. Perhaps after the first dig. Or the second. Or maybe even the third, where you silently celebrated your six months of partnership. Maybe it wasn’t even up until that fateful moment that everything changed. That you transformed from a fellow drifter on a far off moon, to a love of his own. He doesn’t remember when it happened, but he remembers the day he became acutely aware of it.

Prospecting was a dangerous profession, of this there was never a doubt. Even across your months together, had you encountered many unsavory persons. Thefts, cons, killers. All of the worst of mankind that plagued the face of The Green. All the same kind you’d met before, and were certain to meet again. These ones were just a bit more unlucky than the rest.

Traders. Roaming the planet’s surface trading both exotic goods and mundane items alike. A pair, who like yourself, had heard of the blonde-streaked man who had recently become a half-armed one. A pair with their eyes on the wild and dangerous Ezra’s prized trophy case. What was intended to be a simple supply run, had turned into a stand-off. Just as he had done before, Ezra was certain he could survive. But when you unexpectedly arrived, and the taller half of the pair had his gun on you, it got much uglier than Ezra could have anticipated.

Where once, Ezra would have abandoned his partner, leaving them for dead in favor of saving his beloved trophy case, he found himself unable to bring himself to do so. And as the stand-off turned into a gun fight. And the gun fight turned into a fistfight. In his landslide of emotions, one thing was clear. For the first time in his career, something mattered more than his precious trophy case, you. When Ezra finally smashed the last standing man’s helmet hard enough to crack, leaving him to the burn in the planet’s atmosphere, all Ezra could care about was you.

Bloody and limping, he came to you. “My sweet Nebula.” he pants, “Are you alright?” he asks, voice softer than is reasonable considering the adrenaline still racing through his veins. A thick gloved hand stretched out to your own.

“I’m okay Ezra.”

"Now there is nothing that can keep us apart" And he smiles, as his world slowly fades.

He doesn’t remember how he got back to the pod. Or when he got out of his suit. Or how long he’s been laying in this bed. But when his brown eyes open, and he sees you lying besides him he feels safe. And of all the places Ezra has been in his life as a vagabond, he'd finally found a place he belonged.

It frightens him. The testaments of his own affections shake him to his foundations. To know what his love could do. To know what it made him capable of. And worse- to know that what he loved may not feel equal in those affections.

But he could not lose you. Not to those men. Nor The Green. Not even Keeva itself could remove you from him. That terrible greed that kept his soul had extended to you. You were Ezra's. Though he'd claimed you many times, there was one way he'd yet to have taken you.

"Stardust…" he whispers, aquiline nose bumping against your cheek.

"Hmm…Ezra you're awake." You say, eyes adjusting to the frail light of early evening.

"My beloved Nebula, I hope you can excuse my most sudden intrusion of your person but-" a thick hand slithers under your waist as Ezra takes his position above you, "it has come to my attention that I have neglected you something serious. And if permissible…" he leans in closer, the tip of his nose sliding against yours "it'd most like to rectify my unforgivable sin."

"Ezra? Are you asking to kiss me?" You repeat, your sleep dazed brain struggling to follow.

"I believe I am, Nebula."

"Then you may."

With that, Ezra kisses you. His lips are slow to press their way into yours, shivering with trepidation. Once he has his lips on yours, he knows he's reached the point of no return. The feather light touch of your mouth sears through him. Burning your essence into his very existence. Branding him as yours. The taste of devotion sitting heavy on his scorched tongue.

"More-" Ezra begs, pressing heavily against you. You're eager to comply. Pulling him close.

The kiss is cosmic. All your mismatched broken parts forming like clusters in open space. Finding all the bits that make the other whole. An undeniable heat building on your tongues as your bodies fall into each other, closer and closer. Two fools lost in orbit. Limbs enfold like the outstretched arms of the galaxy.

"I love you." You murmur against Ezra's lips.

And the cosmos is completed. Fire catching at the core, where your lips meet. Burning through flesh, and bone, and pride. Creating one where there once was many. His sweet stardust blossoms like a nova star; enrapturing him in your flames. Where he happily concedes his love for you.

"Oh Nova- my Nova!" He nearly cries for you. Overwhelmed by the emergence of feels he'd harbored so long. "I love you. I love you. I love you-" Ezra repeats like a prayer at your altar. Where he worships the star that brought him light. Where his greedy hands slither up your shirt, begging for access. "Nova, allow me-"

"Please Ezra!" You plead back. Eager to have him as you'd never had him before.

In the end, there you return. Engulfed in each other's arms. The quiet hush of night. Pale lances of moonlight piercing through the nylon tent. So when Ezra rhetorically asks, "Oh Nova…what have you done to me?" and foolishly feels over your lips for a piece of flint; the greater question he wants to ask is what he did to deserve to experience your flame. And just as the first man to discover fire, Ezra's greatest concern was getting it again and again.

#am writes #year of abba #year of creation #ezra prospect #ezra x reader #ezra x GN!reader #Ezra fanfic

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oogaboogasphincter · 2 months

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Hey there 😊💤 26, 33 & 34 with Ezra

hi!! 💗💞 aww i haven’t written for ezra in so long, i missed him 🥺🌱💎 thank you for sending in an ask!

26 - does your muse have any odd or atypical sleeping habits?

I think, contrary to popular fanon belief hehe, Ezra can’t fall asleep just anywhere or at anytime. He gives me major insomniac energy - spending hours into the night toiling over research until his under-eyes grow purple or venturing through the darkness and getting himself into capers with horrors that go bump only in the night. He has to simulate a cocoon whenever he’s ready to sleep so he can shut himself off from the rest of the galaxy, even if it’s only imagined. And yes - he sleeps with socks on.

33 - when sharing a bed with someone else, is your muse a cuddler?

Definitely. If the bed is fit for one but he has to share, Ezra is not the type to shrink himself to the edge to the point where he’s nearly falling off the mattress. He’s not budging from his spot of comfort, no matter how minimal. He’ll talk his bunkmate’s ear off - I can imagine him fiddling with the buttons and switches on Number Two’s robotic armor and drawling on about stories of his travels, both fictional and factual, uninterrupted by his companion’s silence.

If he’s romantically inclined, he’ll get a little playful when you’re trying to sleep.

Brush the back of his fingers against your bare bicep because, “You had some… aurelac membrane on you.” Yeah, right.

Turn over from his back to his stomach only to face you; his sleepy, warm breaths puffing softly against your shoulder.

You don’t know if he’s done it on purpose, or if his body subconsciously sought you out in the night, but sometimes you’ll wake up with him molded to your back and his arms wound firmly around your waist, his prickly chin hooked over your shoulder and his cheek pressed against yours.

34 - has your muse ever cried themselves to sleep?

Many, many times. To best know how to get underneath the skin of others, to throw their scent off his guilty tracks, to masterfully negotiate deals that end with him on top, Ezra has had to study the emotions of others to a neurotic degree, and feel them in turn. Paired with a rough upbringing and a traumatic, tumultuous adulthood, Ezra has a lot of tears in his reserve that he needs to drain periodically, else he would be unable to maintain his smarmy facade. He only allows a river of tears to carry him into sleep when he’s out of sight of others - that is, until he has a romantic partner. Ezra won’t let anyone but his most intimate companions see him let go in that way, but when he does, it’s the most rejuvenated he’s ever felt in his rugged life.

send me springtime🌸/sleepytime💤 prompts here!

#pedro pascal characters #ezra (prospect)#ezra prospect x reader #prospect ezra x reader #ezra x you #prospect ezra #ezra prospect x you #prospect ezra x you #ezra prospect x gn!reader #springtime/sleepytime asks #send me asks

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morallyinept · 9 months

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A list of all my favourite EZRA Fic Recs, with the writers tagged. Includes fics I am currently reading/want to read.

Please show some love to the writers by re-blogging and commenting on their work. 🖤

⚠️ Please ensure you check the triggers/warnings etc... on the stories themselves as some of them may not be suitable to your own particular tastes.

Ezra One Shots/Drabbles - Part 1

Ezra One Shots/Drabbles - Part 2

Ezra One Shots/Drabbles - Part 3

Ezra One Shots/Drabbles - Part 4

Ezra One Shots/Drabbles - Part 5

Ezra Multi-Chapter/Part Series - Part 1

Ezra Multi-Chapter/Part Series - Part 2

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nerdieforpedro · 3 months

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Guiding Light

Ezra (organized crime/club owner) x GN reader

This blog is 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 463

Warnings: mentions of blood, injuries, some crime, possible murder and covering of crimes, domestic fluff

Summary: Ezra comes home and needs some TLC.

Notes: I'm not sure where this came from. I was messaging with @lady-bess and thought this Drabble was going to in a completely different direction. That it did. Not beta-ed. Mistakes are mine.

Main Masterlist / Ezra Masterlist

“There had been a difference of opinion that led to the defense of my person.” A small huff of air is released from your nose as you sit beside Ezra at the kitchen table. His hair is still damp from the shower took when he came home. The light from the bathroom had given him away. It caused you to stir as he tried to encourage you to go back to sleep, but when he winced from your hug, you knew that whatever deal he was supposed to have made went poorly.

It was rare that he wasn’t able to convince someone to sell the shirt off their back to him and give him an extra ten percent for their trouble, but this particular deal was to settle a territorial dispute between Ezra’s associates and Leon’s group. They were a small up and coming group, but known for their brazen actions and ruthlessness. As Ezra explained the events that unfolded a few hours ago, you cleaned and bandaged his torso, then saw to the cut he had above his eyebrow.

“It looks like you’re going to have three eyebrows instead of two. Double brow.” Ezra did not find this joke as amusing as you when you began laughing. He instead waited until you finished applying the steri-strips to his eye and kissed your shoulder.

“You’ll have to come up with a better nickname for me then that my dear.” He laid his forehead on your chest and breathed in your scent, fresh lemon soap with a hint of the lavender lotion you used to ease yourself into sleep. Despite being injured, he truly was not trying to wake you. Your hand ran though his damp hair, it had dried slightly while dressing his wounds but was still fairly wet.

“That doesn’t really matter does it, we’re alright though Ez? Right?”

“Yes, all taken care of. Fire is destructive as it is wondrous.”

“Good. Let me grab a towel to dry your hair. Be right back.” He watched as you got up from the table to go to the closet to grab a towel. It’s a wonder you haven’t left him for the number of time’s he’s come home like this or when you found out what he actually does for work and is not just a club owner.

When you return he presses the side of his face that isn’t injured into your stomach and places his hands on the back of your thighs. You smile before placing the towel atop his head and start drying his hair, using the friction to do so gently. “I’d be lost without you my guiding light. Bereft of any direction and headed toward wanton destruction. With you I have a place to come home. To you.”

#pedro pascal characters #fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #ezra #ezra prospect #Ezra x gn reader #Ezra x gender neutral reader #Ezra AU #A Nerdie Fic

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loversandantiheroes · 2 years

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Thinking Ezra thoughts tonight. I’ve maintained for awhile that this man, when he has the opportunity, is incredibly physical in his affection. He’s spent so much of his life enclosed and isolated - either by choice or by horrible circumstance - that more often than not touch seems more precious a commodity than aurelac.

But I’ve been thinking about what that looks like after the Green. When he’s down an arm and far less sure of himself. When he is greedy not just for the pleasure of contact, but the comfort of it. But adjustment is a process, and reaching for you is not as easy as it once was. Even the simple comfort of sharing a bed is more frustrating than it used to be, the pleasure of holding you in his arms as he succumbs to sleep something that has become needlessly convoluted. Laying on his right side is awkward without the arm to brace himself and puts too much pressure on the remains of his ruined shoulder. Laying on his left side is better, but makes him miss that lost limb all the more dearly when the impulse to reach for you strikes, to pull you back against his chest or cradle the back of your head while you curl against him, and finds himself reaching for you with muscle and bone discarded worlds away.

But there is something to be said for tenacity, and that is something that Ezra - a man you once deemed as being both too stubborn and too long-winded to die - has in spades. So Ezra does what he does best: he negotiates. Bodily. A treaty of tactile compromise and zealous compensation. He’ll lie behind you, left arm curling under the pillow and under your head, trailing down your arm to find your hand and twine your fingers together, knotted over your heart. He’ll pull you to him this way, curling in close, hiking one long leg up over your hip and hooking his chin over your shoulder. And when you stir, free hand reaching back to ruffle through the mess of his hair and mutter, still half-sleeping: I’m right here, Ez. He’ll tuck his face into the curve of your neck, hiding a look of anguished relief between the darkness and the warmth of your skin, and he’ll whisper softly back: As am I, dearheart. As am I.

#it's 2am: have a ficlet #pedro pascal #ezra #prospect #ezra x reader #ezra x gn!reader #this man has the koala cling down to a fine art and you cannot change my mind

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marvel-and-mischief · 1 year

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❄️ December Writing Challenge ❄️

Day 26. Bookstore Date

Pairing: Ezra x GN!Reader Words: 1118 Warnings: none

December Writing Challenge masterlist

The bookstore is enormous. Spanning fifteen floors, nine cafes, a rooftop terrace with an alcohol-free bar, and a creche on the first floor, you’re beginning to think meeting a stranger (that you’d been exchanging messages with on the inter-planetary web) here is a terrible idea. But you’d chosen it because it’s public and easily accessible from your pods charging station, plus when you mentioned books to him your conversation came to life. It buzzed with talk of childhood favourites and guilty pleasures; which ones were for reading in bed and which you preferred on the go. So the bookstore is the perfect place, but you worry you’ll never find him.

His name is Ezra, he’s a little older than you and he’s spent most of his life mining for gems on forest moons but he’s looking for stability now, and a friend to keep him company. You wanted a similar life, maybe settle on a university planet like this one, study for a few years and find steady work that had you hanging up your landing pod for good.

You’re standing in the fantasy section on the second floor, browsing the spines for your favourite book when you hear a beeping coming from your comms device. Pulling it out of your jacket pocket you squint at the thin line of screen that slowly reveals Ezra’s message.

-I have retrieved my

-book. Will meet in

-blue room on sixth

-floor

You pick out the book you’ve chosen and rush to the elevator before the doors close. Pressing the button for floor six you thumb the pages of your book nervously. He seemed like a great guy over texts; he was conversational but never talked over you, he asked questions and was open about himself too. And because he couldn’t send a picture he described himself; scar on cheek, missing his right arm from a work incident, streak of blonde in his hair. He shouldn’t be difficult to spot.

Stepping onto the sixth floor looks like every other floor of the bookstore. You seem to be in the classics section, and along the lefthand side are different coloured doors that lead into various quiet rooms for people to read in. The third door along is blue, so that’s where Ezra must be. You feel your stomach flutter but you hurry across the floor regardless.

You knock once, then twice, then a third just incase he hasn’t heard it. The door swings open to reveal Ezra, exactly how he described himself, wearing black corduroy trousers and a knitted jumper. He looks cosy, sophisticated, blending into his bookish surroundings. He calls your name as a welcome and to ensure the right person has come knocking. He has a deep voice that, along with his appearance, has you weak at the knees. You can only nod in response.

“Come on in. I have left you the armchair nearest to the window. It has a fine view of the park and children playing ball games. I find it too much of a distraction if I am to converse with a companion.”

You saw a smidge of his wide vocabulary in his texts but the way he speaks has you hypnotised into wanting to hear him speak more. You take the seat near the window, unwind your scarf and pop the buttons on your coat to relax into the cracked, leather chair. Ezra sits next to you on a loveseat, side on, legs crossed next to a book whose cover you recognise.

“You chose Wilde?” you ask, resting your own book on your lap. Ezra hums, tracing a finger along the gold lines of a picture frame, a haunting image of a skull resting at the top.

“The Picture of Dorian Gray. A classic. And one of my all-time favourites.”

You think it an interesting choice of book for meeting someone for the first time. It speaks to his character: he could have chosen to impress you with non-fiction, or go for something lighthearted, but no, it’s an honest choice and you’re grateful for that. You talk about the exploration of themes, about youth and beauty and the absence of both the older you get. It’s a deep conversation that lasts most of the hour until Ezra has to bribe one of the bookstore staff to let you have the blue room for another couple of hours. Time is passing quickly, just as it does in Ezra’s book, until the children outside have long left the park to go home.

“And what about you? Which book did you choose?”

You’d completely forgotten about your own choice of book, so much so you had to dig it out from where it had slid between the cushion and the side of the chair. You describe the plot of your favourite book, one Ezra hadn’t heard of. It gives you a chance to speak of your own moral beliefs, Ezra chiming in where he agrees or disagrees which always leads down pathways of discussion that fly far from your original topic. Ezra is a fascinating, clever, funny, understanding man who you can see yourself spending eternity with, if only to hear more of what goes on in that head of his.

It’s late before long, and you and Ezra are asked to leave so the store can close for the night. You stand outside, bundled up in your Winter clothes, leaning against each other for extra warmth, not really wanting to leave but knowing you can’t stay on the sidewalk until the store opens in the morning.

“Well I hope you don’t mind me saying, it has been an extraordinary evening. One that has far exceeded my expectations.”

“I’ve surprised you?” You ask, a cheeky smile gracing your lips. Ezra chuckles deeply.

“Yes, but don’t take that personally. It is rare to find such a like minded individual, especially when I am looking for someone like me.” His tone is self-deprecating and gives you pause. You don’t want to leave Ezra tonight, so you curl your arm around his and don’t let go.

“There must be a late night hub, or an all-night bar we can find in this town. Let’s not part ways just yet.” You stare hopefully into his large, brown eyes and see the moment where his sadness for the night ending turns to relief when he processes your words.

“I would be happy to walk these roads until dawn if you asked me to,” Ezra admits, stepping off the curb and pulling you alongside him.

You’ve found something in Ezra that you see in yourself. Maybe it’s loneliness, perhaps it’s a passion for books. Whichever it is, you’ll be holding onto him for good.

#wwdilfcember #december writing challenge #ezra #ezra x gn!reader #exra x reader #prospect #pedro pascal

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alwaysmicado · 5 months

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new = 💫 | angst/hurt = 🖤 | smut = 🌶 | fluff/comfort = 🌸

One-Shots

incomplete • 2.2k • Ezra x gn!reader • AO3 • (🖤) 🌸 Ezra has not been the same since losing his arm in the Green. When he suffers an anxiety attack, he reveals his biggest fear — not being enough for you.

#ezra prospect #prospect 2018 #ezra x reader #ezra x gn!reader #ezra x you #ezra prospect x reader #pedro pascal characters #ezra pedro pascal

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imtryingmybeskar · 2 years

Text

Drabble 7 - Ezra. This one has some NSFW warnings 😅. Well, one. In the form of post-coital cockwarming. Though nothing explicit.

Ezra x GN! Reader. I've also avoided descriptors for reader. Word count: 195

⭐️Psssst I also thought that this perhaps could be considered a little additional something for Starman. A little reader insert, as a treat!⭐️

Afterward he noses at your ear, his breath hot and fast as his hand slowly smooths over the sweat-slicked skin of your lower back.

"My most exalted divinity," he whispers, his loquacious ways reinstated in the wake of brevity - sharp, grunting curses being all he could manage in the throes of his high. "Do not tell me to depart, I beg of you." He drags his own damp curls across your cheek, your nose, raising his eyes to meet your own and they burn with purest longing as he gazes at you. "Permit me to indulge in you a while longer."

His voice is low and hoarse, a honeyed husk of replete desperation that brims with the desire to stretch this golden moment as far as possible. A desire that you too share and always do, regardless of how many times you recreate it together.

Your hands skate up his chest, trembling from the relentless ecstasy he has visited upon you, and your arms encircle his broad shoulders. You cling to him as fully as he to you as your lips meet.

"My life," he murmurs between the soft kisses you share. "My eternal love."

@thisshipwillsail316 @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @elegantduckturtle @dihra-vesa @midwesternwitchery @just-here-for-the-moment @eri16 @readsalot73 @littlemisspascal @princessxkenobi @harriedandharassed @pagannightwitch @tentacruels @kirsteng42

#ezra x reader #ezra x you #ezra x gn! reader #ezra prospect #drabble #drabble challenge

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sharkbait77 · 2 years

Note

Lex congrats on your 400 & many more!!! 🕺🏻✨

May I request from Prompt list #1: “It’s pouring rain why are you here?” + Ezra (just because i’m in love with ur Ezra from The Sun Sets With You)

WELL WELL WELL look who is so awfully late with this request (all of them, really 🤦🏽‍♀️) This once knocked around my head for a while, not gonna lie, cuz I wanted to do a fic set in Ezra's universe & I've seen so many done for when he comes back to Reader after the events of Prospect, but I truthfully haven't seen any for before he leaves, so this came out! Once I reread the final product I really liked it so I hope you enjoy! And thank you so much for being so patient! 🥺 And I hope the length makes up for me being so late with it 🥹

I labeled it gender neutral but please let me know if it seems more feminine & I will update! Title & Reader's nickname taken from the song Starlight by Muse (I love & I think the song could actually fit this situation 🙃). I guess you could say they were my muse 😏

Our Hopes and Expectations (Ezra x gn!Reader)

Rating: T

Warnings: Angst, language, food mention

W/C: 3.1k

Masterlist || Taglist || AO3

The birds chirping their joyful, morning song blended with the warm, golden rays of the rising sun is enough to wake you naturally. You breathe in the air of a new day, stretching your stiff limbs across your large bed; too large for only you, but you haven’t had the courage to toss it and start over with a new, smaller sized one. Will you ever? Maybe. But the days pass with you pondering the option, and they always end with you crawling into that same too-large-for-only-you bed.

As your naked feet hit the slightly cooler wooden floors, it helps you awaken fully, and you rise, stretching out once again as your arms reach to the ceiling, and you sigh deeply. You turn to face the sheets, shaking them out and fluffing the pillows back to neatness, then you tuck the blankets into the sides of the frame until the whole bed is made.

It feels bare to you; only the sheets and a top, warmer blanket across the mattress, two long pillows resting against the headboard. Once you broke the habit of piling on unnecessary decorative pillows and quilts that are only meant to cover the bottom of the bed, you couldn’t find it in you to start that up again. He never did like all those ‘redundant hard pillows’ and ‘impractical itchy blankets’.

The memory makes you puff out a small laugh through your nose and you mark a mental tally on your scoreboard that reads How Many Times You Thought Of Him Today. You shake your head and turn to face your wardrobe, finding nothing to wear in your copious articles of clothing until settling on a forest green Henley from his side of the closet. Tally number two.

You accept defeat on the goal of going one whole day of not conjuring up a memory of him through every single thing you do and move along to the kitchen, breaking out your tea box and scanning through which one sounds most pleasant. You settle for pomegranate cinnamon, a tea that definitely did not mingle with your taste buds at first, but you have slowly grown accustomed to.

You place the kettle on one of the stovetop burners, turning the knob and it clicks until a flame bursts from beneath. While you wait for the water to boil, you grab your teapot, a mug from the cabinet, and a spoon from the drawer, opening your tea bag and scooping some into the infuser nestled inside the ceramic teapot. You reach for the sugar bowl and, to your disappointment, find it empty. Exhaling in frustration, you remember that the item at the top of your next grocery list was sugar. He always did tease about your inability to refill the sugar bowl before it ran out.

Deciding that you wouldn’t be able to properly enjoy your tea without sugar – something you experimented with before and knew since to always add sugar – you begrudgingly conclude you need to visit the market down the road. You leave everything prepared as it is on the counter, turn off the stove, and head to the front door. Once you grab your keys and purse from the entry table, you open the door and stop in your tracks as you look outside in awe at the sudden rainfall you had no idea was happening. The sun still shines and there are no clouds in the sky; it’s as if this strange weather is an omen, foreshadowing that today will not be like any other day.

You grab an umbrella that you haven’t needed for a couple of months now from its resting place and point it just outside your door frame, popping it open and holding it upright as you take your first step out the door. You listen to the rain hitting the nylon material protecting you. The pitter patter creates enough music to accompany you on your trek that it doesn’t make you regret bringing your headphones. You notice, however, the rain begins to fall down harder and you pick up the pace in your steps, hoping to get to the market quickly and return home even faster.

The covered market comes into view as well as the fellow townspeople, just in time as the trickle of rain becomes a downpour. You keep your head down once you close your umbrella, hoping to avoid any mundane conversations to further expedite your trip, though the good natured part of you still can’t help but reply to whoever calls out a ‘good morning’ in your direction. You quickly find the different sacks of sugar and pick out one that suits your needs, rushing to the cashier with payment in hand. You can almost taste the tart of the pomegranate and the spice of the cinnamon dancing on your tongue.

Once you’ve finished your transaction, you turn in the direction that you came and make your way through the market once more to head home. Suddenly, a feeling washes over you, a small voice in your head telling you to look up as you sense a familiarity in the air. As soon as your head is back in an upright position, your eyes instantly catch on the target your instinct was telling you to find: a tall man in a dark coat. He’s turned away from you and you see he has a rucksack strapped to his broad back and he has a head of shaggy black hair.

From this perspective, he looks like any ordinary man, but deep down you know it’s the most unique man in your life. You gravitate towards him, an invisible rope tied around your waist and he’s the man operating the pulley, closing the distance between you two despite your best efforts. The world around you fades away; no sounds of people chattering or coins jingling or rain falling penetrating your eardrums. Finally, you find yourself nearly right up against his back and fight the urge to reach out and touch him for a guarantee that he isn’t an apparition.

“Ezra?” You call out to the man and when he turns in your direction, you confirm to yourself it is your love returned.

“Ah… Starlight,” he grins, a charming grin, as if the time that has come to pass has suddenly vanished and all is right again. “It’s pouring rain, why are you here?”

You scoff, the excitement of seeing him melting away, leaving anger and frustration at the forefront. For the time being, his nonchalant remark of concern is enough for you to respond coolly.

“I could ask you the same question,” you snark and he’s visibly taken aback.

“I…” He speaks softly, so quiet you almost can’t hear him over the pattering of rain against the tin covering above your heads. “I had hoped I would remember the path to you, my Starlight.”

“And you have,” you reply in a whisper. As of right now, you’re not sure if he deserves a slap in the face or a warm embrace.

The silence between the two of you is awkward, to say the least. You long to run into his arms, to inhale his deep, woody and spicy scent until it’s all that fills up your senses. However powerful that need is, you also feel equally as strong that you deserve all the explanation he has for leaving so suddenly. For leaving you and the life he supposedly couldn’t wait to build with you.

“More sugar?” He chuckles as he points out the small sack you carry in your arm; an attempt to break the tension, no doubt. He shakes his head and looks to the gravel beneath his boot. “You always did wait until the last granule beckoned you to the market once again.”

You catch the small laugh that threatens to exit your mouth; how can someone who knows you so well – who knows all your quirks and habits – just leave the way he did? You try your best to be strong, the anxiety of your next words flooding your mind until you push yourself to say them aloud.

“Well, I better get back home. It was nice to see you, Ezra.” You move past the man, showing him your back just as he did to you some weeks – months? – ago and are barely able to make it two steps away before he calls out to you again.

“Starlight,” his given name for you from his lips in that low, rumbling tone freezes your feet where you stand, but you don’t turn to look at him again. “May I join you? Can I come home?”

“That depends, Ez. Will you stay this time?” You ask quietly as you gain the courage to look at his face.

Ezra opens his mouth to respond then looks around at his surroundings and the people walking close by as they go about their shopping before locking his eyes to yours once again.

“I’ll explain more… Please,” he nearly begs with his eyes, the same look he always gave you when he tried to get what he wanted. You hate that you fall for it each time.

“Fine,” you breathe out and turn on your heels, heading in the direction of your house once again. “No umbrella?” You ask him as you reach the end of the market, preparing to open yours once again.

“I am woefully unprepared, but I’m sure I can manage fine,” he grins and you nearly swoon.

You nod and continue as you were, almost pretending that the man you had dreamed of seeing again wasn’t currently behind you. He dawdles behind your fast paced steps, stopping every so often to comment on the flora and fauna that has changed during his absence, but you don’t wait or slow down for him, chuckling softly to yourself as you hear the crunching of the gravel quickened as he catches up to you again.

The quaint cottage you and Ezra had once shared together comes into view just as the rain begins to dissipate. A light sprinkle is leftover and you decide to close up your umbrella for the remainder of your walk. Meanwhile, Ezra shakes off his coat from the rainwater that had gathered in the material during the walk. You hadn’t even noticed he took it off to use as a cover and you feel a small sense of guilt for not sharing your umbrella. You make your way down the pebbled path that cuts through your garden and to your door.

“Wow,” he breathes out. “The garden has grown so much; so many vegetables.”

“Yes, well… I had to pour my energy into something to stay busy,” you reply, looking straight on into his eyes to let him know the true reasoning behind the lusciousness of your garden. He understands, shifting nervously from one foot to the other and gripping the strap of his pack tightly.

“Come in,” you say as you open the door and step inside, standing in the frame as you wait for him to enter, and shutting it once he comes through.

You walk straight through to the kitchen to continue your quest of tea drinking and notice that Ezra stands awkwardly, like he’s unsure if he’s allowed to get comfortable here without your permission. You turn the stove on once again, the water in the kettle still warm from already having been boiled before. You turn to face Ezra and meet his gaze, a light flush creeping along the tops of his cheekbones when he sees you had just caught him watching you in the kitchen. You chuckle softly and gesture to a chair, offering for him to sit down. He smiles and nods his thanks, removing his pack and setting it, along with his coat, by the door and taking a seat.

“I was just making some tea. Would you like a cup?” You ask, the volume of your voice reverberating through the quiet home.

“I would love some. Thank you, Starlight,” he smiles and you nod, grabbing an extra mug and spoon for him.

While the water begins boiling again, Ezra regales you in his adventures with such ferocity that it begins sounding like he’s reciting an epic poem. The glint in his eyes proves to you where his true passions lie and you pretend you don’t feel saddened by that fact. While you hoped you could live a simple, quiet life with him, the call of adventure to him is a constant itch he cannot seem to scratch in order for him to finally stay. He catches on that his tales bring you sadness and it falls silent again for a moment.

“Is that my shirt you’re wearing?” He asks and your heart drops in embarrassment.

After you tried so hard to make it seem as if you weren’t interested in letting him back into your life, your appearance obviously proves otherwise. You don’t respond, redirecting your attention to refilling the sugar bowl, and Ezra notices you avoiding the topic.

“You redecorated,” he says as he looks around the kitchen and front living space.

“Here and there,” you nod, moving away from the counter and heading back to the stove as the kettle whistles. “Like I said, I had to stay busy somehow.”

“Well, it still feels like home,” he says underneath a smile and you softly laugh through your nose, the statement not seeming as sincere to you at the moment.

You prepare the two mugs of tea just as you did countless times before in the mornings and evenings, a small ritual you both kept to during your time together. Before his head became filled with thoughts of prospecting. Before he left this life for one of greed and betrayal. You shake your head slightly, attempting to release those negative thoughts, and you grab the mugs and head to the table.

“Mm… Pomegranate cinnamon. My favorite,” Ezra smiles warmly as he sniffs his mug. “Surprised to see you still drink it.”

“It slowly became my favorite, too.”

You sit down in a chair across from him at the table, both of you knowing what conversation needs to be had but neither of you knowing how to start it. You take a deep breath, releasing it with the intention to open your mouth and speak, but you chicken out in the end. You used to be able to speak to this man about anything, yet asking him this one little question gives you more anxiety than finding out the answer. Another deep breath.

“So… You’re back,” you finally speak, the tone of your voice remarking it almost as a question. He looks down at his mug.

“Yes, I-I’ve returned,” he replies, though he does not meet your gaze.

“I mean that… Are you finished?” You clarify, heart pounding as you wait for his answer that takes far too long to come.

“Well…” He trails off and you shut your eyes in disappointment. You lower your head as well. May as well rip off that proverbial band-aid.

“When?” You finally mutter.

“Tomorrow,” Ezra replies curtly, most likely knowing it wouldn’t do any good to sugarcoat the situation.

“Damn you, Ezra!” You muster up the strength to yell out, unleashing all the pent up frustration you’ve had at the same time. “Then why even bother showing up here? Just to take away my hope as soon as you give it?”

“I had to see you,” he says, those brown eyes turning down in sadness; a puppy dog gaze that he knows all too well works on you. Although the anger you feel is too strong to hold back now.

“I am not your marionette; you cannot keep me on these strings expecting me to wait around forever,” you say and stand from the table, admittedly a little more dramatic than you normally would act, but you hope the point comes across to Ezra in this way.

“Starlight, please try to understand.”

“No, Ezra, I don’t and never will understand,” you lean against the kitchen sink, supporting your weight with your hands as you hang your head, begging the tears not to flow. “I can’t – I will not keep doing this.”

“Doing what? Exactly what do you mean?” He asks, standing up as well to stand in the middle of the kitchen, getting closer to you while also respecting the space you want between you two. You scoff and face him.

“I mean…putting myself through this heartache. You leaving for months with no end in sight and then just popping back in my life with nothing to show for your disappearance.”

“Starlight,” Ezra begins softly, taking one more step closer to you and you let him. “I am, whether you’d like to believe me or not, doing this for us. For us to be able to live the life you long for.”

“No, Ezra, don’t blame me for that. Don’t pretend you do this for anyone except yourself,” you sneer and it’s obvious on his face that your words cut him. “I never needed any of it; I told you from the start. My life was fulfilled with you in it just as we were before.”

“Starlight, my love, please,” he steps forward, closing the space between you and grabbing your hands. “This one is the winner, I can feel it. And… I promise, it will be the finale.”

“You always say that,” you sigh, feeling the weight of his hands in yours; a feeling you won’t admit you missed. “But I can’t promise I’ll be here when you come back.”

“You always say that,” he chuckles and places his warm palms on either side of your face. “And where do I find you when I return?”

“I mean it this time,” you look into his eyes, your own welling to the brim with tears. “I mean all of it. Of what I said.”

“I see,” Ezra nods in understanding. “Then… I can only hope for your beautiful face to greet me when I land at your feet again.”

You curse the tears that fall from your eyes, a weakness you had begged yourself not to show him during your conversation. You lean into his touch slightly as he wipes the stream from your cheeks with his thumbs.

“Goodbye Starlight,” he says softly, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

He picks up his rucksack and slings it on his shoulder, and you watch him as he steps through the front door and out of your life once again. Your heart doesn’t hurt nearly as bad this time as you watch him walk down the path and you wonder if it’s because you’re used to the pain or because you know you didn’t mean a word you said.

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