#iT REALLY JUST FILLED THE BARREL WITH BRIGHT RED SMOKE
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Turns out you can use the healing rig while hiding.
I've been having fun with Trials.
#iT REALLY JUST FILLED THE BARREL WITH BRIGHT RED SMOKE#hOW DID HE NOT SEE ME#outlast#outlast fanart#outlast trials#art#comic#red barrels#officer coyle#leland coyle
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#5 for amylaurie
5. that emotional moment that you can't find a plot for.
He’d never had a particularly happy life.
From the beginning, it had been marked with tragedy. He adored his mother, from what he can remember. But his memories, unfortunately, are few and far between. He tried to keep her smile, her laugh, the feel of her hugs and her hand wrapped around his tiny one locked away in his brain and his heart, but over the years, they inevitably began to fade. Before he knew it, he couldn’t quite get the tenor of her voice right, couldn’t remember the sweet words she used to whisper in his ear. She was like a beautifully painted picture, rather than a human being.
If there was someone who adored his mother more than he had, it was his father.
His father took her death the hardest. He tried to find a salve for his broken heart in all the wrong places, began gambling too often and drinking too much, frequently leaving his son alone late into the night to go out and drown his pain in whatever way he could. When his father was home, he could hardly stand to be around him. Everything about Laurie reminded him of her - his eyes, his hair, his nose, his smile. He reached his breaking point eventually, and then he sent Laurie away.
School had never been particularly hard for him. He was smart, he supposed, and he didn’t mind the company of his tutor. Boarding school was different, though. He never quite found a way to fit in. He was too quiet, not quite as rich, and Italian, which mattered in a way he didn’t understand. He always found himself at the center of negative gossip, the butt of too many jokes. He hated it, so he stopped trying to assimilate and let himself fade away into the peripheries of his peers.
When his father died, it was almost a relief; at least the man wouldn’t suffer any longer. But again, it threw him into a world of uncertainty and unfamiliar territory. It sent him to America, into the hands of a grandfather he had never met. As he grew older, he’d come to subtly resent his extended family for disowning him and his parents, and wondered if this grandfather would resent him back.
He didn’t. But his grandfather also wasn’t warm, a product of living so many years alone, Laurie supposes. He knows Mr. Laurence has experienced his share of heartbreak as well; there’s a beautiful piano that sits untouched, that the servants tell him belonged to the old man’s late granddaughter. The few times he tried to play it he’d catch his grandfather looking at him in a way that wasn’t particularly pleasant, so he stopped.
John Brooke - his new tutor - was pleasant enough, earnest and determined to please his grandfather by giving him the privilege of an excellent education. They often butted heads when Mr. Brooke tried to teach him; he couldn’t find him in himself to care much about learning anymore. Couldn’t find it in himself to care about much of anything.
Then, he met Jo March.
His grandfather had noticed his melancholy and sent him to a party to try to lift his spirits. He doubted it would work - how exciting could a party in Concord, Massachusetts possibly be, after all - and quickly found an empty side room to disappear in for a while until he’d spent enough time there that he could plausibly tell his grandfather he’d made an effort to be sociable.
It was there that Jo literally stumbled into him, and changed his life forever.
He’d never in his life met a girl like Jo March, one that was so boisterous and bright and unapologetically herself. In his world, every girl was trained from an early age to be prim and proper and polite, so that someday she might make a good wife and a fine young woman. Jo was anything but, and when he met the rest of the March family, he learned that they all were, in their own way - whether it be Meg and her unabashed love for dramatics and pretty things, or Beth sitting at her piano, playing until her fingers ached.
Or Amy, marching around in a pair of fairy wings and declaring that one day, she would be the best painter in the entire world.
His childhood memories of the Marches were all Jo, her fire and harsh edges and iron will, but Amy was always there at the edges, making herself known. She always seemed to be at odds with her older sister, but he thought that was because the two of them were the most alike in a way, like two opposite ends of the same string. He would always take Jo’s side when she recounted their latest feud, of course, but he couldn’t help his amusement at some of Amy’s antics. He remembers, when Jo told him that Amy had burned her novel, how his sympathy for Jo had existed right alongside of his wild amusement that little Amy March had the gall to even come up with such a thing, let alone follow it through.
But even though Amy was there, along with Meg and Beth, Jo was undoubtedly the main attraction, the sun at the center of his universe. His world was filled with her, with her smiles and laughs and hair and voice, with her words and her thoughts and ideas, and soon his heart was, too. He didn’t know much about love, but he knew he loved her. He knew he wanted her to be a part of his life always.
So, he’d asked her to marry him. It was the only thing to do, wasn’t it?
When she turned him down, he almost hadn’t been surprised. A part of him almost expected it; he hadn’t been particularly excited to ask her, after all. Rather, he’d dreaded it, dreaded the moment that the delicate balance they had built would have to tip one way or the other. He’d always known there was a chance she’d reject him.
That didn’t mean it hurt any less, though. He thinks it hurt even more when she left; he’d always known Jo to dive into every challenge head-first, but then she ran away to New York. She ran away from him. So he followed her lead, as he had learned to do so well over those years with her.
Heading back to Europe was much more bitter than it was sweet, and even the grandeur of cities like London, Paris, and Rome couldn’t stop the vibrancy from slowly bleeding out of his life. What had become a kaleidoscope of colors was now just grays and blacks and whites.
So he drank, and smoked, and gambled, and fucked his way through life, and in a macabre way, never felt closer to his father. Except he wasn’t heartbroken, not anymore - he realized more and more that he never expected her to say yes, not really. That she was right, as she usually was - it would have never worked.
He just felt lost. Unmoored, with nothing to anchor him. And he started to believe that maybe he was simply supposed to live his life this way, alone and adrift and apathetic.
Then, Amy March came barreling back into his life.
She was different, of course - namely, she was no longer little. She had traded her fairy wings and braids for beautiful gowns and carefully coiffed updos, and all her lofty childhood wishes had been replaced with a stoic, resigned realism. It would have worried him, that the world had taken her and hardened her, but he knew that the woman that threw her arms around him and happily shouted his name on that Parisian street, the world around her momentarily forgotten, was the Amy he had always known and cared for, however proper she might be now.
And she was proper, but he found it didn’t bother him like he thought it would. Instead, he admired her for it, that she had managed to grow up so gracefully. She was lovely, he decided. Lovely and refined and determined, so much so that it got him in trouble with her, sometimes. She was constantly after him to be better, to stop his drinking and laziness and make something of his life.
She wanted him to respect himself. He’d never really done that; all his life, he’d known himself to be a bother or problem, a thorn in someone’s side. He didn’t really know how to respect himself, but for her, he wanted to try.
The problem was, it was getting harder and harder to leave her side. She painted in his life with strokes that were insistent, but soft, and he found that her world was just as colorful as her sister’s. It was her own, of course; if Jo had been a red flame, then Amy was a golden glow, like sunshine. But he found that he didn’t mind the differences, that he maybe even preferred Amy’s version. It made him warmer than anything he’d known before.
He doesn’t know exactly when he fell for Amy. It happened slowly, gently, and before he could stop it, she’d taken up all the emptiness in his heart, filled it with light and life and love. Not that he would’ve wanted to stop it; he found he was quite content belonging to her. Even when she rejected him that first time, he didn’t try to remove her. He didn’t resent her, as he had temporarily resented Jo. He knew it was futile, that he was irreparably hers, and he decided that if he couldn’t be with her, he would at least make himself someone she could be proud of. He wanted to be someone she could respect, if he couldn’t be someone she loved.
But then, God had smiled upon him - for perhaps the first time - and she’d changed her mind. She loved him, she wanted him, she loved him. And when he kissed her that first time, she ignited something in him that no woman ever had before. He loved her, he wanted her, her and her only, he loved her, he loved her, he loved her.
His heart sang for her with its every beat. Every breath she took gave him purpose, every smile gave him joy, every kiss and moan and tug on his hair made his blood run hot through his veins. He was so full inside, wanted for nothing. He felt like all his life he’d been trying to shove himself into places where he didn’t fit, whether it be at school or with his father. With Jo. But there was a spot beside Amy, one in which he fit perfectly, like it was created with him in mind. And as long as Amy was beside him, he could do anything, be anything, survive anything.
One of the things that he loves most about her is her beauty. He can’t help it; he is only human. A weak one when it comes to Amy. When she hugged him that first time in France, he’d noticed how the autumn sun had caught the strands of her blonde hair, her cheeks flushed from the way she ran to him. He first let himself realize it in her studio, when she went off to meet Fred Vaughn. There was something about the way her cream-colored blouse laid against her pale skin, the way the blue accents brought out her eyes. How her pinned-up hair showed off her neck. He could do nothing but smile shyly at her, any coherent words suddenly caught in his throat. And every time he saw her, he noticed something else that added to her beauty, whether it be the delicate way she sipped her tea, her lips a pretty pink against the white china, or the way she blushed when he complimented her. Eventually, in a room full of women, she was the only one he could see, as captured as he was by her.
Almost three years later, nothing has changed.
He wakes up in the middle of the night to find her side of the bed empty. He’s almost positive he knows where she is, and almost rolls over and closes his eyes. But he can’t get her out of his head, so he gets up and throws on his robe. The moon shines bright enough that he doesn’t need a candle, and he leaves their bedroom, creeping to the next door down the hall. It’s ajar just slightly, and he slips inside.
And there she is, just where he thought she would be. Standing at the window, staring out into the night. She’s barefoot, dressed in a white nightgown, long hair cascading down her back. The moonlight illuminates her hair and skin. She’s breathtaking. More beautiful than any painting he’d ever seen.
Cradled in her arms is their newborn baby girl.
He doesn’t want to startle her, so he knocks gently against the door. She looks over her shoulder and smiles at him, but quickly goes back to gazing at the newest addition to their family.
He walks over to the two of them, placing a kiss on the top of her head before wrapping his arm around her shoulder and embracing her. There are a multitude of reasons why she might be in here - the baby could’ve been crying, it could’ve been time for a change or a feeding, or Amy simply could’ve missed her, could’ve wanted to hold her and watch her breathe. He suspects it’s the last one, but he doesn’t ask. He doesn’t want to disturb the peaceful scene in front of him.
He reaches a finger down to their baby, taps at her hand, until she opens her fist and wraps all of her tiny fingers around that one of his. Amy turns her face and nuzzles his shoulder, relaxing against him.
He’d never had a particularly happy life.
But standing here now, both his wife and his daughter in his arms, he knows nothing but.
send me a number and a pairing (preferably laurie x amy) and i'll write you a mini fic!
#amy x laurie#laurie x amy#little women#little women 2019#amy march#theodore laurence#idk if this even fits the prompt?????#idk i've wanted to write this for a long time and finally took the opportunity#hope you like it anon!#anons are beautiful#thank you for the ask!
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Take a Breath
Ezra (Prospect) x AFAB!reader Oneshot (no use of y/n)
Masterlist
Rated: Explicit
Summary: Your ship has crashed on a planet with low oxygen. With no other options you begin a tenuous partnership with a strange prospector in need of your help fixing his pod. He’s charming but dangerous and if he finds out the whole truth about you, you’ll probably end up dead. With trouble closing in from all sides, you navigate this new connection and hope you both survive in one piece.
Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of violence, blood and death, mentions of religion, sexual harassment (just a couple comments), me having no clue what asphyxiating is actually like, Two has a clear helmet for plot reasons, smut: unprotected PinV sex (there’s no STDs in space), cunnilingus, dom/sub elements, rough sex, size kink, choking (just a little), spitting, praise kink (this one surprised me), biting, a little dirty talk (it is Ezra) - let me know if I’ve missed anything!
Note: I was totally inspired to create this by @jura-moon ‘s fic Nostromo which lives in my head and without it, this never would have been written. I have used some of her story beats and ideas so absolute credit goes to her for that. This is sort of a fanfic of Nostromo in many ways 💘 I’d also like to throw thanks at @absurdthirst who reawakened my love of fics, @slater-baby who awoke something in me specifically, and especially to @danniburgh who not only deals with my damn near weekly requests for softness but who also got me to stop editing at 1am whilst drinking tequila. She did us all a favour, let’s be honest.
I hope everyone enjoys this behemoth. Don’t forget to reblog!
Wordcount: 22k
~~~~~~~~
It's not the worst planet to crash on.
The thought is so ridiculous you'd laugh if it wasn't for the blaring alarms and the screaming. Instead, you wrestle into the pilot’s seat and strap in. With the engine dead you'll have to manually time releasing the parachute. It's completely insane. Too early and the parachute burns, you crash into the ground and die. Too late and the parachute doesn't catch you, you crash into the ground and die. Provided you do survive you've at least got your suit on, oxygen tank attached, you'll be able to breath. The planet's oxygen is too low to survive for longer than two hours alone but it'll aid the tank and give you two days, three if you're careful, to get more. At least it isn't poisonous.
Thoughts all over the place you wonder where the other ship will fall. Hopefully close enough you can still make use of it. Hopefully they've got a good pilot.
You've been lucky this far, now all you can do is hope your luck holds. You break atmosphere flames blurring the view of the planet and then it's rushing to meet you. You start counting, watching it come closer, closer. You see the other ship careen away from you.
“Fuck!” Someone behind you shouts “Pull the damn lever are you trying to kill us all?!”
You ignore them, don't lose count. Ok
Three… two… one…
You close your eyes and pull.
You don't open your eyes.
No. For the first time in years. You pray.
⧫⧫⧫
Pain is the first thing you register, across your chest aches like, well, like you've just crashed a ship. The next is the smell, smoke, that can't be good, it's not entirely unpleasant though. Then the noise, someone's shouting in your ear telling you to get up, to move, they swear and leave you dangling upside down, still strapped into the pilots’ seat. Oh, that's why your chest hurts, ok, you think to yourself, you’re alive. You need to move. You need to open your eyes.
You do.
Lights are flashing, disorientating you more than your current position, blood rushing to your head. You reach up and press the release on the seat belt and drop to the floor, or maybe the ceiling, head first. Didn't think that one through you chastise yourself. The engine is on fire, filling the hull with smoke but your legs are numb so, seizing your pack where it’s fallen beside you, you crawl to the light you think is the door and to your relief, flop outside.
No one notices you. They're all looking away, throwers out and pointed into the dead trees you sit back against the ship still reeling from the crash, too slow to realise how absolutely fucked you are. They come out the trees fast, even with spears and blades, you watch as the crew falls one by one. You can't process what you're seeing, frozen in place. Blood splatters, coming down like rain around you. Too late your body reacts and you stumble to your feet and run.
You get out of sight and then you stop, panting. Every breath aches your chest.
Something's wrong. Something you're not seeing. Right before your eyes. What is it?!
It hits you, slowly like a wave, realisation and then panic. You reach up slowly and touch your head. Gloves come away wet and dark with your blood.
Your helmet is shattered.
You aren't sure if you're crying or blood is dripping into your eyes. You suspect the blood. Feeling numb you keep moving, one foot in front of the other vaguely glancing down at the dial on your arm. After the running you'll be unconscious in at best an hour and a half, dead a little after that.
The petrified forest seems to close in around you. It’s a stillness like you’ve never experienced. Trees tower above you, skeletal branches reaching up like fingers. The limbs cast dark shadows in the bright sun, crossing over the dry brush underfoot, hiding foot falls and branches to trip on.
You walk on.
⧫⧫⧫
15 minutes left.
You decide to find a place to sit, ideally somewhere with a view but you can't me picky. A fallen tree does the job and you pull off the remainder of your helmet. Trying not to think about your imminent demise you look up. The suns are low, three of them. It twinges in your chest that you'll never go home, never see that sky again. Left to rot alone, no one who knows your traditions to perform your rites. Not that you deserve them. If you're going to put the ring back on, now would be the time. Make penance, but you don't think you can. Perhaps the hundred years wait is what you deserve.
7 minutes left.
There's someone approaching. Silhouetted against the scorching red sky, the heat rising from the ground distorting them, making you wonder if you’re hallucinating. The only clue they’re real is the crunch of the ground beneath their feet, but even that seems to echo around you.
Hope is the thing with feathers and it just flaps a wing wearily in your chest. And then stutters. The sun glints off their pistol, a beautiful sparkle that dims your hope. You do what you're good at, grab your own and shoot first. His gun flies from his hand and you smile, at least your aim is true. It falls off your face as quickly as it appears though as you feel a barrel press into your skull.
Clever buggers divided and conquered.
You drop your thrower but whoever it is doesn't lower theirs. “A little creature all alone,” a low voice drawls, “No helmet? No breath? What will we do with you?”
Staring straight at the man in front as he picks up your pistol and glares at you, you respond. “If we are going to chat, can we do it wherever your pod is? I have quite a story but I'll be dead in…” you look down at your dial, the gun increases its pressure on your skull as you try to suppress the panic “In about 5 minutes” the man remains silent, his pistol staying pressed into your skull. Your mind races, trying to find a way to argue your survival and clutches at the one thing you have. “I chose not to kill your friend when I could have done. Can you at least hear me out?”
The man behind you clicks his tongue “Ok! Well, I'm certainly intrigued and I'm sure even my partner here can't disapprove of allowing you to argue your case.” The comment seems pointed like he'll definitely disagree but even as you see his mouth twist he stays silent. “On your feet creature I'm not inclined to lug you back myself.” Standing the man lowers the thrower into your back and gently pushes you forward.
Their pod is close but you're feeling dizzier by the second and don't even think to protest when, as soon as you're in and the doors shut, the man at your back ties your hands behind you.
Focusing on him as he moves in front of you and pulls off his helmet you notice he’s favouring one arm and despite his sharp brown eyes, he looks feverish and drained. Not paying it much thought, you breathe deeply feeling sharper but it only draws your attention back to the pain in your body. Kevva you're tired. The urge to lie down and rest is near overwhelming, but the one who talks is eyeing you coldly for weakness, you’re no use if you can’t even stand.
Still, you try to get your bearings. The pod is small and rectangular, they haven’t turned the lights on and the looming shadows seem to pull in the walls, making your saviours into giants, making you feel like you’re pledging your case to The Olympians. There’s a small bench with a couple chairs next to a tiny stove and sink, there’s only one cot up against the wall, opposite what could be a cupboard but your eyes can’t make it out in the dim light.
“Now then creature, it's not every day we come across such a little thing with no air on this breathless planet and certainly not one who can shoot so damn straight!” The chuckles “I am just fascinated to know how you got into this predicament.”
You nod thinking carefully about your words. “We were a prospecting crew,” that's definitely a lie, “I'm an engineer but I know how to dig.” Well that's true at least, “Our ship fell of orbit but I managed to deploy the chutes in time so we didn't die on impact but…” you close your eyes as the images of the blood flashes before you.
“Let me guess your theatrical entrance gathered a welcoming party?”
“Something like that, I didn't realise my helmet had broken right away, I managed to run… I think everyone else is dead.” In a way you hope they are, else you really are in trouble.
The man is grinning at you, showing his teeth but the calculating gaze doesn’t falter “An engineer I'll be damned! And you can dig too? This is my lucky day. We happen to be in need of an engineer. See, our little pod has seen some better days and now it is unwilling to fly. Say, if you can fix it up and help us dig a smidgen, save us some time, we'll give you a lift out when the time comes? Quid pro quo”
An unwanted thought strikes you, settling deep in your stomach like a stone. “That sounds like a great deal but I won't be able to help you, not unless you supply me with a helmet.”
With that the other man seems to reach the end of his patience. And he moves gesturing at the talker.
“Now then, it just doesn't seem right to let such a pretty little thing suffocate on this rock... Well, I can't argue with that I suppose… I do apologise, little creature, I find myself, however unwittingly, agreeing with my partner. If you can’t help us then I can find no reasonable excuse to waste our resources on you. Looks like the deals off” he sighs “This is disappointing, I had such high hopes for our association.” With a shrug he pats your shoulder in sympathy that doesn’t meet his eyes. You shouldn't have hoped, your lucks all spent.
You take a deep breath, mind racing to find a way to survive, “Untie my hands at least, I'd appreciate some dignity as I walk to meet my maker.” You glance at your pack on the floor, you won’t need it now.
He pauses for a second, seeming to size you up before nodding and turning you around to face the door. In the reflection of the glass, you see the profile of his sharp features as he looks back, “Now then two, surely you can do the creature the quick the justice of a shot rather than a slow suffocation… Right good.” He cuts your hands loose and instantly the other man is there pressing his thrower into your back. You walk together, back into the waste.
There's only one way you're getting out of this so you close your eyes for a second and pause. He shoves you, lifting his gun to the back of your head. You take a breath and act.
Bending forwards and shoving your elbow up into his arm so the shot goes over your head, you spin knocking the gun aside and grab the small switchblade concealed in your pocket. He should have searched you. You don't hesitate as you stab him in the heart, following him to the ground and wrenching his helmet off. You close your eyes as the light leaves his.
Shaking off the nausea clamouring at you, you pull out the blade blanching as it sprays blood across you. You wipe it clean before stowing it away and then swipe a hand across your face, there’s no way to tell whether the deep red that rubs off on your hand is his or yours, or someone else’s. Feelin around in your pockets for a coin, you suppose the least you can do is pay his boatman so you place the coin under his tongue. You don’t pray. The dead don’t need it.
Ezra watches as you perform this strange ritual, he had to admit that he's captivated. Perhaps his wound has rotted so much he's delirious, finally driven mad by the toxins. Perhaps that was why he agreed to free your hands, why he didn’t check you for a blade. He considers you as he watches, so determined to stay alive.
You pull off the man's suit grateful he's small, even if it'll still swamp you, and grab his helmet. Stripping your own suit quickly you ignore the bandages on your forearm and pull his on. The fit isn't bad, it still seals around your wrists and ankles but it’s loose at your neck. You've got 12 minutes before you pass out unless you fix the hole your own knife made and get a tank of oxygen.
You look at the pod, the other man is watching you. Brown eyes piercing yours as if looking into your soul. It's him or nothing. You've got to try.
You approach the pod carrying your suit. Looking through the glass in the door and you gesture a setting for your radio, there’s a click followed by his harsh breathing.
“That was not especially kind, little creature. I certainly underestimated your ferociousness”
You shrug, “It was him or me.”
“What makes your existence so exponentially more important than his d’you think?”
You frown, “I didn't decide that it did, the powers that be choose. I did bring a knife to a gunfight” He smiles slightly and lets out a little chuckle.
Ezra watches you carefully, you look so tired, so small as you lean against the door of the pod his feverish brain seems to be attempting to soften a long-hardened heart. Still, he's not an idiot. “I'm afraid letting you in may be a detriment to my state of being, creature, you are indeed viscous and I'm not inclined to trust someone that murdered my acquaintance with so little hesitation.” He watches your eyes closed and for a second you look so hopeless but when they open, they've hardened.
“I could simply pull apart your pod from the outside, make sure you suffocate with me!” The last words come out in a shout of frustration. You bang your hand against the glass window of the door.
He glares at you, his voice low and menacing “I do not take lightly to threats, creature.”
This day’s too long, too hard, you've done too much. How many deaths? You realise that you can't kill someone for, sensibly, not letting you in. You laugh “I feel like the wolf at your door,” you sigh god your head hurts “There's no point!” you gesture, “Killing you would do nothing but damn me further I won't kill you out of spite. Fuck!” You glance and the dial on your arm,
6 minutes.
You turn away and sit, suit back against the door. It's as nice a spot as any. “I will choose to die here though I think, just as a reminder that you killed me when I fall through the next time you head out”
You chuckle at the macabre thought then turn off your radio and pull off the helmet.
3 minutes.
The final sun is setting, this really is Apollo's world and it is beautiful. The orange sky outlines the forest’s hands like an oil painting waving you off. Not a bad place to go at all.
2 minutes.
At least it's quiet.
1 minute.
Black spots are filling your vision, blurring out the beauty. Rude you think to yourself and you let out a delirious giggle.
The door behind you slides open and a strong hand grabs the back of the suite as you flop back, hauling you in, snagging the helmet and sealing the door. You don’t move, staring at the ceiling for a second breathing deeply.
Ezra drops heavily down onto the cot and watches you, you're quite something up close even covered in another's blood and your own, you're beautiful. He imagines this is what a witch would look like after a ritual, all blood and magic and secrets.
You open your eyes and peer up at him. “What changed your mind?”
He grins “Call it a reckless curiosity fuelled by this festering limb of mine.” He gestures to his arm.
It’s your turn to size him up, he seems to be looking worse by the minute and now slumped against the wall, you could probably just kill him and take what you need. Maybe you would if he hadn’t let you in. “Perhaps I can patch it up, I've got steady hands and too much experience with wounds from weapons” you struggle into a seated position with a grunt as pain flashes.
“You might as well have a gander, I'm afraid if left to my own devices I'll have to saw the thing off myself or else perish” He frowns down at his twitching fingers, “I do believe this may be my lowest point, little creature. I invite in trouble and then ask it for help? I have certainly had preferable days, for instance, when the ship I was presiding upon became infested with channel rats seems superior to today.”
You hum in reply not really paying attention as he continues to talk. Reaching for your pack, you pull out a pretty well stocked surgery kit. “I'll numb it as best I can but it's not much”
“Anything that alleviates this agony will be a blessing little creature” You raise an eyebrow at him in acknowledgment, clearly doubting it as you hand him a tablet which he swallows. He pulls off his shirt and you examine the wound trying not to stare at his strong arms and broad chest. It’s a couple days old and badly infected, you’ll have to get out the rot before you can think of sealing it.
“Lie back” you tell him
“Perhaps in another situation your choice of language would be quite desirable” he smirks at you, not succeeding in disguising the worry in his face.
You sigh at the comment “Scream all you need but don't move”
That makes him chuckle, “You're a siren luring me in to slay me, aren't you?” His jaw clenches as you start cutting away the rotted flesh. It is slow work, carefully taking as little pink away as possible. To his credit he doesn't move a muscle and you know it must be agony. He talks the entire time, telling the tale of how he got himself shot in such a long-winded way you can’t tell the truth from the fiction. It seems to give him distraction though, so you don’t ask if he’s lying. As you close the wound with foam, he smiles at you, softer than before.
“Names Ezra, by the way.” Then he passes out.
He’s rather strange you decide, but most prospectors are. You’ve got to be a bit odd to spend your days nearly isolated on hostile planets. Asleep he looks peaceful, none of the calculating gaze or darkness. That little patch of blonde is so distinctive, you find yourself almost hypnotised by his face. Frowning at yourself you move away and sit back against the other side of the pod facing the cot.
A few things left to do with him unconscious, you pull off the stolen suit and grab the patch gun from your pack, melting it closed. You pull it back on and holster your pistol. Sitting back, you take a pill from your med kit to ease the pain in your chest and let it pull you into sleep.
Unsurprisingly, you wake before him. You check he's alive then pack your stuff together. You're even, you suppose. He saved your life. You saved his (or at least his arm) and you'd rather not stay around to find out if, when less fevered, he decides to get more even with you for killing his partner. He did give you his name though and names are powerful things so you pull out your notebook and leave a note as you grab an oxygen tank.
You glance behind you as the door seals behind you but you don’t turn back. If you head towards the ship your crew had brought down yesterday, it should have an escape pod still on it. Hopefully you can fix it up if needs be. You follow your compass East.
⧫⧫⧫
Ezra wakes slowly, he hasn't slept so deeply in years, he feels comfortable if a little cold and slowly he opens his eyes. The previous day returns to him in a haze, a pretty face and bright eyes glaring through the door, a gesture to old gods, his arm…
He looks down and moves his fingers. It's good, remarkably so, still stiff and aching but whatever you’d given him seems to have hurried his healing. That stuffs expensive. Not the sort of thing a prospector would usually have and certainly not something they'd share. You were quite strange, he concludes, but fascinating. Why on earth would someone who could act so brutally for their own survival give him something so valuable? Sure, he let you in but you certainly hadn't needed to let him know you had such a thing in your possession. He supposed guilt over his partner, perhaps you were truly naïve or, bizarrely, you could have money. Which would create a more baffling question of just how you ended up here.
It doesn't occur to Ezra for a moment the other reason, until he looks around the pod to find you gone along with a portable oxygen canister leaving a bit of paper in its place. Things stolen hold less value.
The paper was clearly torn from a notebook on it, it simply said your name.
He curses pulling on his suit and following your tracks into the forest. The trail is light but visible, branches broken where you’d passed, dry brush crushed under your feet. He moves quickly, sure of his footing after spending so much time navigating the dead forest. He’s only travelled about a mile before he can hear you moving ahead.
⧫⧫⧫
You walk through the trees, one sun shining above you warming your bones. As you check your direction you pause. A twig snaps and you freeze listening carefully. There's another noise behind you and you spin tensing. You can't see anything or anyone as you peer around you, the forest is too dense.
A body crashes into you from behind flinging you into the ground, looping something around your neck. Your head ricochets off the inside of your helmet shaking your brain, opening the cut again but not breaking the glass. You try to lurch up but get nowhere so you roll into your back with them now beneath you but the cord around your neck holds you back. Choking, you catch your fingers in it so you can breathe and pull forwards, hard, rolling again and thrusting your helmet back into theirs, loosening their grip enough so you can pull the cord away, only for them to shove you head down into the ground.
The world is swimming now, wobbling around you as you try to get your body to listen to you. To get away. To fight back. Anything! But their weight on your back prevents you from moving. You try to look out of the corner of your eye to see your opponent but get nothing. It surprises you when a tear tracks down your face. You suppose you have been putting off the inevitable for days now, Kevva has called you back.
Whoever it is clicks on your radio and a familiar voice hisses, “You stupid fucking cunt, I'm bringing you to hell with-“ A shot rings out and the body slumps on top of you, you lift yourself up and shove it off sitting up on your haunches looking around for the shooter.
It's him, Ezra, gun still trained on you. He watches you halt, eyes wide.
“You took something of mine, and although usually I don't go out of my way to find trouble, which you little creature certainly are. I awoke to find myself abandoned and a little peeved to discover that you had liberated a couple of my possessions and shimmied out of part of our prior agreement.”
Your heads still spinning and with the blood trickling into your eye you find it immensely difficult to focus on what he is saying. “Prior agreement?”
“Yes indeed. You'll find you had affirmed in exchange for breath you would fix up my little ship so when the time comes, I may leave this barely liveable planet. I do not appreciate reneging”
You squeeze your eyes shut.
“On your feet creature,” he approaches, “I find myself growing impatient.” You stand and instantly stumble forward. He grabs onto your shoulder steadying you, his other hand darting out before you can relax and snagging your thrower from its holster. “I underestimated you once, I will not again. Now, your assailant seemed to know you, if I'm not mistaken, by the way they deemed to remark upon you. Pray tell me the tale?”
Looking at him you do feel a lot like prey. He's close, grip still firm on your shoulder and towering over you. A grin showing all his teeth like a wolf, all you would need is a red cloak and you’re dinner.
You glance down at the body and clench your jaw, it was Cora. Formally, a member of your crew, she had always distrusted you. Rightfully so, you think to yourself.
Steadying yourself you shrug off Ezra's grip, ignoring the gun still aimed at you and kneel down to pull off her helmet. Taking a coin from your pocket you place it under her tongue and look back up at him, the helmet still in your grasp. He's watching you curiously, seeming to be rolling words around in his mouth as if completely thrown by your behaviour.
“She was part of my crew, I was the engineer so the crash was my fault,” well that was definitely true.
Ezra chuckles darkly, “I'm not too sure I want you to repair my ship after all, creature. Your predilection for incident does appear wearisome.”
You tilt your head up at him, “See any other engineers around here?”
“I suppose you'll have to do, but I will be watching you mighty closely little bird, in case you decide to take flight again.” You frown at the new nickname but don't get a chance to argue as you both hear a horn a little way off. “Unfortunately, my shot appears to have alerted the ever-irritable locals to our location.” He grabs your arms and hauls you back to your feet pulling you along with him as he walks back the way you had come, Cora’s helmet still clasped in your hand. “Luckily the settlers are not quick on their feet, I must say.”
You can't think of a response, your head is still reeling and your feet feel like lead as you trudge after him, his hand gripping firmly onto your wrist.
You're grateful you hadn't travelled far when he tugs you into the pod. Closing the door and turning, Ezra finds you slumping down to sit on the floor ripping off your helmet and attempting to wipe the blood out of your eye. It feels a little voyeuristic as he watches you tug off the suit soaked with his partner's blood, revealing the black insulating vest and leggings beneath before flopping back eyes closed for a moment. You feel his stare and pointedly ignore it as you grab your own suit, abandoned the day before, and shimmy into it. Cora had the same suit and so her helmet will fit yours. You feel a little relief at no longer having to wear the blood of someone you'd killed, not to mention more secure in something that fits.
Glancing up at Ezra as you transfer your possessions between pockets yet again you see he's elected to tie his suit up around his waist revealing those damn arms again. He crouches down in front of you and gently grasps your chin to tilt your head up at him. “That's quite the cut you've got there little bird.”
He carefully watches your face but your head is still fuzzy so with no retort he moves away from you and picks up your med kit. He cleans your wound gently, wiping the dried blood off your face. As he does, you study him. Close up you can see the wrinkles around his eyes from when he smiles and the curved scar on his cheek. Fighting off the impulse to trace your fingers over it, you ask how he got it. He grins as he places a plaster on your head “Now that’s quite a story” but you don’t get to hear it yet, sounds outside means the settlers have found the pod.
“They'll leave provided they don't know we're here” He grumbles, tugging you into the cupboard running along the wall.
It’s slim but long inside, there are blankets on the floor, a lantern and a small stack of tattered books. “Do you sleep in a cupboard?” you have to ask but you do your best to keep the incredulity out of your tone.
“I'd rather you didn't insult my little burrow as a guest, there's only one cot in this pod and I lost the wager so I made do. I think you’ll find it’s rather cosy”
You nod, a little thrown by his change in attitude since being in the forest. As you both sit you watch his face in the golden light of the lamp. It makes him appear to glow, almost like a painting. He'd look almost relaxed if it wasn't for how his eyes were watching you carefully.
Ezra studies your features, if you hadn't been such a bringer of chaos, he'd think he'd made you up, that, or Kevva had reached into his head and plucked you out. You're just perfect, perhaps anything his own mind could come up with would have to come with chaos, there was no fun without it.
The quiet moment is disrupted by a bang on the side of the pod, you jump and Ezra tenses slightly but seems to be expecting it. “They're trying to frighten out anyone inside” he whispers, “If we stay quiet and hidden, we'll be just fine”
You nod and tilt your head back against the wall trying to block out the noise as Ezra reaches for the book at the top of his stack. You read the title ‘Perfume’, you haven't heard of it but judging by the battered pages and writing in the margins Ezra knows it intimately. He glances at you. “It is a tale of a man who gets so enraptured with the scent of a woman he endeavours to turn her essence into perfume.”
You hum in response “That sounds a little morbid.”
Reaching into your bag you pull out a similarly dog-eared copy of ‘The Power’ and do your best to ignore the man opposite you.
Ezra frowns at his book. It's not often a good read fails to pull him into its world but something about your presence has driven him to distraction. Instead, he closes the book and continues to study you, it's a nice change having a stranger in such close quarters. You're frowning at your book a little furrow in your brow he finds endearing. It's only then he notices you're shaking. He wonders if it's from the death of your friend, from the settlers’ insistent pounding on the side of the pod or from him. He supposes it's quite scary to be trapped in a small space with someone twice your size and he hasn't exactly been kind to you. Ezra frowns to himself, not that you've given him a reason to act kindly. You will be useful to each other but there's no point making friends on such rough terms.
You look up meeting his eye as he glowers at you and swiftly glance away, trying to take up as little space as possible.
“You said you came to prospect?” he murmurs to you. You look back at him, wide eyed, and nod. “Good, you can help me finish me dig, 60/40 split, since you so callously divested me of my partner.”
You nod “You ridded me of mine too. Looks like we're even again. Equal split.” He’s tempted to laugh at your boldness, negotiating with no leverage. He keeps his face stern, unwilling to let you know how much he is enjoying your spark.
“I don't think so.” he speaks lowly making you tense, “I will permit that without you my arm would be about as useful as stim gum is at staving off hunger. And at least to me my arm is equal to a partner.” He tilts his head at you, the light cutting plains across his skin, “Even so… we still aren't even. That’s twice I saved your troublesome arse. One could suggest you’re indebted to me.”
To his surprise you nod, even as your jaw clenches and he watches you swallow “I guess I'll have to make it up to you another way. Even split or I don’t dig” That breaks him, he can’t hold in his grin at your fearlessness. He strongly suspects you’ve had an abundance of practice getting what you're owed from characters more unscrupulous than himself. He frowns at that, even hardened prospectors treat him warily, there must be something else to you. He agrees though, more out of curiosity than necessity.
“Even split it is then.”
⧫⧫⧫
You both agree there's no point going out to dig with the settlers so close but after the noise has subsided Ezra looks you over and suggests you shower. You don't tell him what a gift that is but he sees how your eyes light up at the prospect of washing off the past days’ grime. He hands you a towel and as the water starts running, he distracts himself from picturing you naked by satisfying some of his inquisitiveness and going through your pack.
There's not much of interest. Your med kit, some protein bars, instant caf, ammunition but in the front pocket he finds an old ring. Round like a signet but instead of a family emblem it is simply a small coin, plated in gold. He studies it, it's roughly hewn, well-made but not particularly fine. He wonders if you stole this too, but it isn't flashy and everything else you've taken had been useful so he posits it is yours, but why don't you wear it? Frowning he puts it back as he spots a notebook, worn and well-loved but as he reaches for it the water shuts off and he leaves your pack, choosing to get nourishment for you both before you sleep.
You emerge dressed just in your leggings and vest, Ezra gestures to the seat noticing the bandage on your arm. “What did you do that your mystical little tablets cannot heal?”
You finger the material absentmindedly, “Oh it's an old wound I keep reopening, better to keep it covered to prevent infection.”
He peers at you clearly unconvinced but he doesn’t question you further, you avoid his eyes looking at the floor as he sticks some food in front of you. “Eat up little creature, we've hard work to do tomorrow and we'll need our energy.”
You take a mouthful before asking, “Where will we sleep?”
“Better we stay out of sight in case our hospitable friends return, so back into the burrow. And I'd rather keep you close in case you start to feel flighty again” You sigh but to his surprise don't argue, perhaps the settlers really did shake you.
Ezra returns to studying you as you both eat, without your suit on he can see the harsh bruises around your neck where your former friend had tried to strangle you but the gash through your eyebrow has stopped bleeding and fresh from the shower, you're quite the vision. It has been so long since he'd had another body to warm his bed and you look so soft and vulnerable without the suit and imminent danger, he finds himself picturing you under him, writhing, brow furrowed like before. His hands grabbing your arms, your hips, your neck- He shakes himself of the image. Your partnership is tenuous at best without bringing in the pleasures of the flesh and he doesn't really want to scare you off potentially leaving him alone and trapped on this world.
When you've eaten you head into Ezra's ‘burrow’ as he called it and settle opposite each other, legs stretched out in front, feet almost touching. Ezra is next to the door ensuring you can't leave without waking him but you're not inclined to try, you know your luck is running out. You're grateful he doesn't try to scare you into staying, instead curiously he picks up his book and looks at you.
“I propose an exchange, it appears we are both almost prepared to recite our beloved tomes cover to cover, so, would you acquiesce your book for mine?”
You shrug, “I wouldn't mind something new but I'm not sure how much you'd enjoy ‘The Power’ and I have nothing else.”
He smiles his eyes crinkling with amusement, “Well then, read me the blurb and let me decide for myself. It seems only I would know what I may delight in.”
“It's about how women become the dominant gender in the world, told by a man in the future where a male dominated society seems absurd.”
Ezra grins, “I am intrigued! It'll be a joy to discuss books with another person, a pleasure I can rarely partake in”
You smile back as you swap books. A tentative exchange that leaves you both a little hopeful for the progress of your partnership.
You both read in silence until you yawn twice in a row causing Ezra to yawn too and he suggests you turn in. Or you guess he does, his choice of language seems to baffle you here and there. He wrangles a blanket out from under you and you settle in, top to tail, his feet level with your chest and yours to below his hip. You didn't realise how the adrenaline of the day had worn you out and you're asleep in seconds.
You awake on your front, head nestled into your arm. It's pitch black and there's a weight on your ankle. Trying not to panic you wait for your eyes to adjust and peer over your shoulder to see what's grabbed you. It's Ezra.
Asleep on his back one hand on his stomach where the blankets had been shoved down and his under shirt had risen revealing a strip of tan skin glowing in the low light. You try not to focus on that. His other hand, by his side wrapping nearly all the way around your ankle. You wonder if he grabbed you awake to stop you trying to escape or if unconscious, he simply wanted to keep your warm body close, that idea makes you feel a little soft, this is easily the gentlest he's touched you apart from patching your head. You debate if you should shake him off but you don't want to wake him and his warm hand is anchoring so you just put your head back down on your arms and go back to sleep.
⧫⧫⧫
Ezra had his sleeping pattern nailed down, a necessary thing for a prospector, usually out cold for 7 hours so he's surprised when he startles awake. He doesn't usually dream. He grasps at the threads of images his mind had conjured committing them to memory. It was about you and it was enough to make him flush and now as he rouses himself, he gently detaches his hand from your ankle unsure about when he grabbed it. It's still early, he looks over you asleep on your stomach breathing slowly. He sighs adjusting himself in his pants if he can't get these images of his head, he's going to have an even more difficult time working with you than he already will. Desire is fickle like that he supposes, giving him a beautiful creature, he can't trust. One who is clearly concealing something and who certainly doesn't desire him in return. A beep tells him the suns are rising and you begin to stir
“Arise little bird, a day off struggle and fortune lays in wait.”
You grumble in return shuffling onto your back and sitting. Ezra tries not to stare as the blanket slips away revealing your body. To avoid further thoughts, he leaves his burrow taking his suit, subtly clutching it to his front so as not to alert you to his predicament, and heads for the shower to sort himself out, eternally grateful that the pod had connected to an underground lake making the water supply essentially infinite. Hopefully a brisk wash will clear his head and body of the lust.
You flop back and sigh. That damn blonde tuft and those sharp features were following you even into sleep. It had been far too long since you'd enjoyed another person and if it wasn't for the dilemma you were in, Ezra would be an easy yes. Broad and handsome and charming in a way that just spelled trouble, but your uneasy alliance, and your lies, and the fact that he could easily kill you make you especially wary of being vulnerable in the way you truly crave. Instead, you shake yourself, grab your pack, dig around for that terrible instant caf and leave the cupboard.
Ezra's shower was doing nothing for his erection. Feeling a little exasperated he grasps it harshly and tries not to picture you so vivid in his dream moaning around him. The water raining down on him acts as a lubricant as he harshly begins pumping his hand not wanting to take his time and fall into a fantasy of you. It doesn't work, he imagines how soft your hands would be, how wet you'd be, how he'd take you here up against the tiles. It's quick and dirty. He grunts, swears, then cums, the water washing the sin away leaving him panting and if anything, more frustrated than before.
You hear Ezra swear in the shower and wonder vaguely if he dropped something as you grab two mugs and start heating water for caf. The shower shuts off and you look round as he emerges with a towel wrapped around his waist. His eyes are dark and he looks furious so you turn away and try not to think about how the water droplets on his broad shoulders shimmer as he disappears back into the cupboard.
Seeing you there, making you both caf, dressed in your underclothes sparked a craving of domesticity within Ezra. For the briefest moment you weren't a reluctant partner on a hostile planet, instead you were a lover he could wrap his arms around from behind as you giggle and try to get breakfast and it aches.
When Ezra re-emerges, dressed with his hair sticking in all directions, you've put his caf on the small bench and are sitting waiting for him. He sits too and picks it up.
“There's only a couple months left in the dig” he says, “You up to it? I will be displeased if you slow us down”
You glare, so this is what he's worried about, “Don't worry I've had plenty of practice. If anything, I'd worry about your arm!”
He grins at you “No need to fret little creature, I managed to do my job with a hole in it and with your miraculous medication, it is only a little unyielding.” He carefully looks over your face, “Speaking of, I would appreciate you being candid in not only the precise location you acquired such a potion but why in Kevva you deigned see fit to give it to me?”
He watches you chew on your words, “I relieved them from a man who sought to take from me, and I gave them to you to even my debt. You saved my life if I didn't give you one, I wouldn't have been able to save your arm.”
What a strange little thing, he thinks, so worried about balance, “Did you happen to also relieve this man of his life?” You stare into your cup and don't answer “Well if he sought to take from you, I'll assume it was just.”
You sit in silence as Ezra smoothly changes the subject and grabs a bar for you, spinning quite the tale as you eat. Not stopping for breath as you pull on your suits, boots and helmets, only pointing you towards the equipment you need to grab before opening the door and leading you back into waste.
Ezra hadn't given you back your thrower which you supposed was fair although he had left you your blade which you're sure he remembered you carried. Perhaps a little act of faith to gain your trust? It didn't hurt.
As you approach the site Ezra looks back at you, “Stay close little creature we wouldn't want you to get lost.” His voice is low and threatening and sends a shiver down your spine that isn't entirely fear. You nod slowly and he grins, wolf-like just as before, as if outside you the pod he is an entirely different beast to reckon with.
“I'll get in the pit and do the heavy lifting, you can treat and polish on the surface, we'll go for as long as we've got light and head back. It's gonna be a long day little bird”
The dig comes as a relief, the repetitive labour clears your head and Ezra seems to be filled to the brim with stories and anecdotes, although, you don't think you're actually learning much about him. The way he talks is open yet totally guarded, as if he has the compulsion to speak but the sense not to trust you. You aren't offended, it's not like you're exactly opening up to him either. The day passes quickly like this and as the sun dips too low to see well Ezra hauls himself out of the pit, tells you to pack up and you both head back to the pod to eat and sleep. You wake with his hand around your ankle again.
⧫⧫⧫
A couple of days in, the suns seem to be burning even hotter than before. The dig is gruelling and you’re grateful Ezra so far, hadn’t let you into the pit. You aren’t sure you could bear it in this heat. By the time you finish and return to the pod, taking off your helmet is a relief. You feel hot and sticky and bone tired so you plop yourself down into the cot in the main room still in your suit. Ezra chuckles, “You must be out of practice, else you'd still find these long days easy.”
Ah, so he is bringing it up. You raise your head to look at him, “I still kept up with you, didn't I?”
“True, true, although I am not functioning at full capacity at the present time.” He gestures to his arm.
You flop back and gaze at the ceiling, “Or I just survived a crash from space a few days ago and I'm still a bit worn out.”
That makes him laugh. It's a big warm noise, that makes you giggle too at the absurdity of it all.
“Are you confident you wish to slumber there?”
“Why? You afraid I'm going to make another break for it?”
His grin is just a little softer now, “A little. But if I were you, I'd be more concerned about the neighbours might pop by.”
“Shit, alright” you sit up and instantly yawn.
“Let's get some food in you and turn in, little bird. If I'm not careful I'll have to carry you into my burrow.”
Smiling back, you mock him a little, “With your arm? I'm not sure you'd be capable.”
At that he grins and you realise you've given him a challenge he won't back down from. Stalking up to you like a cat he seizes you under the arms and hauls you against his chest making you huff and giggle as you try to wriggle free. He carries you across the pod like you weigh nothing and plonks you down on the little work bench. Hovering too close for just a moment too long, his breath ghosting your cheek.
“Now how about you keep your smart comments to yourself, lest I have to keep proving you wrong?” he smiles at you, letting you see the crow’s feet by his eyes.
“I'll admit defeat this time I suppose, but you really should go easy on that arm!”
Ezra turns away from you, his heart pounding a little and reluctant to leave your embrace. Instead, he ignores the feeling urging him to clasp you close and grabs your food. As you slide off the bench and into a seat, he hands you a bowl. Neither of you attempt to meet the other's eye and both of you fail to see the flushed face of your companion.
Once again sleep comes easy, the hard work making your body crave rest to heal but even so in the dark you wake. There's no rush of panic this time instead you feel warm and sleepy as you glance at Ezra at the other end of the cupboard. He's not grasping your ankle instead his side is pressed against yours, leg to leg. It's cosy and in your half-awake state you don't think about how you had gone to sleep separated, and who had sought out whom in the black.
The next day goes much the same, you bicker before you head out deciding who should be in the pit and who shouldn't. Ezra concedes that he'll do the treating of the gems today if you keep alternating so neither of you gets too worn out. You agree though you point out yet again that he needs to go easy on his arm and he points out your bruises and gash on the head as hypocrisy. It's an argument with no malice and it feels refreshing to have a go at someone without worrying they'll get angry and shoot you. Although perhaps you should be more concerned by how at ease you are. If he was to see the scar on your arm, you doubt he'd be so understanding.
As the day ends Ezra offers you his hand to pull you out of the pit, his touch lingering in yours for just a second too long.
⧫⧫⧫
Working like this you form a sort of routine. Up early, dig till you can't see, talk, eat, sleep, press together in the night. Ezra is starting to reveal little details about himself, where he was born, how he got into prospecting, his favourite books. In a way it makes you feel guilty for staying guarded, only relinquishing the barest details about yourself, but if he notices he doesn't point it out.
A month passes like this and as you watch Ezra hop into the pit you wonder vaguely if he'll ever run out of things to talk about. He describes an incident where an amateur prospector managed to get his arm stuck in the pit resulting in its brutal amputation but your attention fails as you wait for the next potential gem and you look into the trees behind you.
An uneasy feeling claws at you so trusting your gut you tell Ezra to shut up and get down out of sight just as someone emerges. No one you recognise, thank Kevva, and not a settler either. They are carrying a rifle though. Bowing your head to your work so they can't see your mouth move, you quickly describe what's happening.
“I can only see one, he's armed. A prospector. You stay quiet unless I shout.”
“Right then birdie. I await your call.”
You look up at the man staying on your knees and gesture your radio setting.
“What's someone like you doing out here all alone?” You repress a shudder at his tone.
“Same as you, I expect, making my way in the universe.” He comes closer and you fight the urge to back away but you don't want to draw attention to Ezra. “I don't have much to offer you and I don't take kindly to thieves.”
“Big talk from someone unarmed.” Wishing Ezra had given back your thrower, you stand and decide an attempt to bargain will be the best option.
“What do you want then, we can trade.”
“I'm not looking to trade anymore, I'm stuck here. My team's dead.” He levels his gun at you. “If you take me to your ship, I'll let you live for a price. Protest too much and I'll shoot and have my way while you bleed out.”
You gulp and stand starting to back away. Even with the element of surprise Ezra will have to act quick and be lucky if you both want to live. Why would he though, he doesn't have much motivation to risk his life for yours, he'll just have to hitch another ride. The man keeps moving towards you as you reach the edge of the pit, eyes not leaving your face and presses the gun to your chest. You glance down for a moment, hoping he doesn't look too, and see wide brown eyes and a miniscule nod.
At the same moment Ezra reaches up, you drop back into the pit and land heavily on your back, winded. He slices across your assailants achilles tendon and grabs onto his leg pulling him in after you. Frozen in place, you watch the tussle, for the first time properly witnessing how formidable of a foe Ezra can be. His size and strength easily overpower the other man as he rolls on top, throwing down heavy blows that fill the air with the soft thuds of impact, like a heartbeat. A yell is cut off with a gurgle as Ezra shoves his blade into the man’s neck repeatedly, using his weight to hold the man down until he stills.
There's a moment before he turns, he lowers his head trying hard to calm his harsh breathing and sighs. “I do apologise little bird,” he turns to you scowl in place, eyes dark. “For my brutality, I'd rather you didn't have to bear witness.”
His voice is low and he's watching you carefully as you sit up. You feel lost for words at how far he'd gone to defend you, you wonder how close he got to becoming the man dead in front of you. Alone and cruel. All you can do is nod in response.
Ezra curses himself at how quiet you've become. Moving the body out of the pit had taken time and once done, as he watched you place a coin in his mouth, he'd announced that to continue the dig today would be futile with adrenaline running so high and at your nod you had gathered the equipment and headed back to the pod. He watches you carefully as you pull off your suit and decides that the fact you didn't just sprint for the trees after what he did was a good sign. But you continue to surprise him.
“Thank you,” you say softly, “For not letting him…”
“Nonsense, without the pleasure of your company I don't doubt my humanity would soon become as weathered as his own.” He frowns, “It was rather like being visited by the ghost of Christmas yet to come.” You tilt your head not really sure what that means but he shrugs. “Don't fret about it.”
Then there's silence as you watch each other. Lost in thought as you make your meal and eat.
Ezra ponders on the panic he felt deep in his chest at the waver in your voice. He wonders when saving you switched from utilitarian need to something more. He knows how stupid it is to get attached, how reckless. But your bright eyes and determination to stay alive were admirable and captivating and he craves to know more, what makes you laugh, how well you'd take him. He sighs and attempts to brush the lust aside. Even if you weren't terrified of him, he just knew you were concealing something.
The silence stretches out, both unwilling to break it, as you head into the burrow. For the first time, you sleep next to each other.
⧫⧫⧫
Ezra is wrapped around you when you wake, safe and warm and comforting. You can feel his heartbeat against your back, its steady rhythm relaxing you before your brain starts whirring. Then you feel guilty, like you're taking advantage of him. He doesn't realise how much you enjoy him holding you close and you certainly don't deserve it. The weight of your lies heavy on your shoulders you ease out of his arms, careful not to wake him, and leave the sanctuary of the burrow.
A wonderful dream slips away from him as he stirs. His little bird's weight in his arms, grounding him, giving him something to protect. Looking round for you and finding you gone, he swears and stumbles to his feet. Kevva, he hoped you hadn't left him alone.
He almost sighs with relief when he leaves his burrow just to spot you sitting by the window watching the suns rise, notebook in hand and mug beside you. You look up, a little wary of his wide eyes but shrug. “I couldn't sleep.”
“Me neither little creature, my dreams are haunted.” He picks up your mug and takes a sip, with a grimace he says “Can you truly enjoy something so acrimonious?”
You chuckle, “Habit I guess.”
“Well, it's certainly rousing” he smiles at you “What are you scribbling there?”
“I had a look round the ship, it's all the repairs I need to do.” You hesitate, “If we swing by the other crashed ship for a couple parts, we can be gone in two days.”
Ezra's eyes darken just a little, his voice low, “You wouldn't be trying to wiggle out of our agreement now? The dig isn't done and I demand satisfaction.”
He watches your mouth twist, “It's just I think our luck's run, the longer we stay the more trouble we're going to get like yesterday.”
“That cannot be helped, little creature. I'd like to live well for a while, and so, the dig must be completed.” You think to that other ship, there's immeasurable wealth on it but you can't tell him. Then he'd know what you were. So instead, you nod and start preparing for the day.
The change in your attitude has Ezra feeling nervous. He realises if he doesn't show a little faith, you won't feel safe and he'll lose you, and possibly himself. Just before opening the door to the waste, he turns to you, “Here.”
He's holding your pistol out to you, frowning slightly, you peer up at him “What?”
“If something like yesterday happens again I'd rather you be able to look after yourself,” you nod and reach for it but he keeps it in his grip for a moment, “Don't get any ideas” his voice is low and dangerous eyes hard on you. You swallow and nod shoving it into your holster.
To your relief the dig is quiet and Ezra has returned to chatting away to you from his perch outside the pit and eventually you're able to chat back making him laugh as the day passes.
There's a change between you, him trusting you to be armed has given you a chance to breathe, but, with that a new tension has come between you. One you're trying very hard to ignore. It’s crawled into your head and planted thoughts of closeness, of more, that you can ignore during the day but not at night.
After that day you'd formed a new routine. Going to sleep next to Ezra and waking up feeling secure in his arms before the guilt hits and you leave before he wakes. Not letting him know the comfort you've found there.
⧫⧫⧫
Apart from the locals coming to bang on your walls every few days, weeks pass incident free as you both perform this dance around each other. Ezra finds that his cold showers are doing less and less to quell his lust, and heart is another matter entirely. So, he ignores it, treats you a little coolly, tries not to scare you off, it's getting more difficult now nearly every night he dreams of you. Sometimes it's lewd, sometimes you're chatting together, the worst are when he dreams he's just holding you. He might think it was real if not for how when he wakes up you aren't there.
Until the morning he wakes first.
He's groggy, breathing deeply and so, so comfortable. It takes a moment to get his bearings. Shifting slightly, he realises how he's curled around you, hand on the strip of skin of your stomach where your shirt has rolled up, face pressing into the back of your neck and he has to fight the urge to kiss it. When you moan quietly, he props himself up on his arm looking down at you in the low light. For a moment he thinks you're having a nightmare but you flushed, breathing shallowly and he's certain you aren't. When you whimper, he shudders, such a pretty noise. He feels tempted to stay pressed against you, to touch you, to make you make more of those noises. He fights it off, and eases away from you stepping out of the warmth of his burrow.
He thinks, perhaps later he can talk to you, there's nothing wrong with getting some pleasure and easing some stress in each other’s arms. There isn't long left of the dig and then you'll go your separate ways, the thought stings a little. He leans back against the door. Kevva, he craves more, he wants to learn every inch of you intimately, to learn what makes you tick, to wake up with you in his arms. It aches deep in his chest, so many years spent in poor company. He hears you moan once more and groans himself, pushing off the door he trudges to the shower.
For the first time in ages, he runs it hot before stepping in and grasping his cock. He lets himself take his time, starting slow, increasing the pace till he feels like he could explode then slowing right back down again. He doesn't fight off the images of you that spring into his head now he knows what you can sound like. He imagines you making them with his tongue on you, fingers buried in you as he presses you down, how you'd whine his name, how you'd beg. Ezra grunts, staving off his orgasm once more his cock red and throbbing with his heartbeat. He pictures sinking into you, hot and wet with you pliable in his arms as he fucks you into the ground. He cums hard with a growl and a curse and then curses himself both for being loud and for allowing himself to yearn for you, then finally he begins to wash.
⧫⧫⧫
You wake with a start, panting. Your dream is vivid in your mind. Ezra grasping your hands so you couldn't move as he fucked you with his tongue moaning against you. He'd talked too, both eloquent and totally filthy as he got you exactly where he wanted you. You huff, now you were left frustrated and still pining for a man who must just see you as a utility, a way to get off this planet. Hell, he barely even knew anything about you, didn't know the most important thing. But you know you can't stay in this limbo for long now, the digs nearly done and after then what can you do. There are two options, tell him who you are and how you feel and hope for the best or just ignore it, get off the planet, take your money, and go live the quiet life you'd intended. You focus on this debate and instead of the wetness between your legs as you leave the cupboard.
You look around for Ezra and exhale as you hear the shower running, there's no way for him to know what you were dreaming of, right?
That's when you hear him, it's a low, erotic groan followed by a string of swear words and you flush as you became achingly aware of how wound tight you are. You turn away and try to ignore it, heating up water for both of your cafs as the shower stops.
As it brews the steel door swings open and Ezra emerges wrapped in a towel and glowering, you ignore his stare and the way droplets of water slide down his chest making you want to lick him as you hand him a mug.
Ezra watches you gnaw on your lip as you look him over and can't hold in the grin at how frustrated you seem. He can't help but tease.
“Did you have pleasant dreams little bird? You seemed unwilling to rise this delightful morning.”
His grin widens with your eyes as you look away “Err I don't remember… did you sleep ok?”
“Like I was in the welcoming arms of a lover” He doesn't miss your little inhale of breath, and he wonders how best to broach the topic of mutual pleasure with you. Perhaps it'll quell the urge to keep you safe in his arms.
The way Ezra is teasing you makes you think perhaps he can read your mind. As he goes to dress you make a decision, after the dig you'll explain how you really got here, explain how you don't want to leave him after the dig is done. And hopefully he'll be worn out enough that, should he decide you're too much of a liability, you can out run him.
As you head out an uneasy feeling settles in your stomach, you tell Ezra as much but he just chuckles, “Perhaps you're still tired”
The morning goes smoothly, you're in the pit this time handing stuff out every so often to Ezra, his fingers brushing yours. Both of you work quickly, you puff, out of breath, as you stretch yourself up for yet another hand off. His ability to talk is once again surprising you. You laugh at his story despite the unease and the beat of the sun in your back and miss the delighted expression that crosses Ezra's face from your position in the pit.
Like a light switching, the energy shifts. You know there's trouble before Ezra mumbles through the comm “Little bird, stay down. Company approaches.”
Your blood runs cold when a voice responds, already on your frequency, a voice you know. “Greetings friend, we think you can help us out.”
Ezra eyes the pair in front of him, knowing you’d been made was adding a layer of worry to a tense situation, “I'll help if I can but, you're encroaching on my little territory you know how it is. I will be obliged to defend it”
You hear the pair step closer “Actually we're looking for someone,” your eyes slip closed as you stay stock-still, “See they greatly are responsible for our predicament. However,” the voice is clear like they already know you're here, crap, how long did they listen in? “If they were to help us find something we've lost. I can assure their punishment is… swift.”
You swallow as they step to the edge of the pit, Damon glares down at you “Hello darling, long time no see”
Ezra looks shockingly calm, still smiling as you glance at him, “Now then, that is not a polite way to address my partner.”
The other man scoffs, second in command Barlow, “Your partner? Back to your old ways I see.” He looks Ezra up and down. “You’re their type”
You think perhaps you see Ezra's jaw clench before he's grinning “It hardly seems fair for you to make off with my partner, does it? No, not without compensation which unless my ears deceive me, you can't give me without them.”
Before you can blink guns are drawn and you feel like a fish in a barrel, stuck in the pit without Ezra to pull you out.
“You don't know who we are, do you? I suppose in the suits you can't tell but I'd have thought with your… intimate relationship to our engineer you might have figured it out.”
Ezra’s gun doesn't waver for a second but his mind reels. The bandage on your arm, it couldn't be. Surely, he hadn't been so blinded by your company not to notice that. His eyes darken and he thinks, for a moment this man, Damon, realises he's going to die the split second before Ezra shoots.
Barlow’s slower, surprised at him for making the first move but despite his fumble this was a real stand-off. He meets Ezra's glare and they're frozen in time for a moment. Just as he watches the man start to squeeze the trigger and prepare to shoot, he flops sideways. Ezra swings his thrower round you see you, gun in one hand, body turned to the side, still poised from the shot neither of them had seen coming.
Ezra looks as surprised as you feel, even taking aim you hadn't been sure you should save him. But, in the second the men had forgotten about you, you'd let instinct take over and your instinct had chosen Ezra. You hoped it was correct.
Perhaps not. You watch as Ezra’s face darkens, his teeth bared as he levels his pistol at you. “Little bird” his voice makes you shiver despite the heat, “Be so kind as you toss your shooter up here. I think we will be having words.”
You can only nod, what can you do? He says he wants to talk so you'll talk, out of the pit. Where you can stand your ground. You swallow and throw your gun up to him. He gives you a curt nod picking it up and turning away. For a terrifying moment you think he's going to leave you here to die slowly but before you can beg him not to, he returns and tosses a pack down.
“Pack up your gear. We're leaving.” His tone leaves no room for argument so you pack away his equipment as quickly as you can and put it on as you wait and listen to him packing his own, wondering if the shots will draw more trouble.
After all the time spent getting used to his talking, his silence is terrifying. It allows you to think, to panic, to imagine the worst thing he can do. Probably leave you on this planet to rot or be torn to pieces by the locals. You squeeze your eyes shut at the thought.
“Come on now, your elevator awaits” You open them to see he's offering his hand down for you to grab. You do your best to ignore the pistol in the other as you grab a hold and scramble out of the hole you had been sure was going to become your grave. Ezra doesn't loosen his grip on your arm as he hauls you to your feet and strides away from the dig forcing you to trot behind him to keep up.
You stare up at him as he pulls you along trying to read his thoughts. He doesn't look at you scowling straight ahead, his grip vice like and bruising. You don't try to shake him off, you’re sure he's worked out who you are. Your former co-workers hadn't been subtle but you can't gage whether or not this is a walk to the noose.
⧫⧫⧫
Tugging you into the pod he releases your arm and turning to seal the door he finally speaks. “Take off your helmet” His tone sends goosebumps over prickling over your skin so you pull it off and go to set it down on the table. When you turn back, he's right in front of you glaring down eyes dark. It makes you feel tiny. “Show me your arm.”
His words are too concise, so abrupt you hesitate. It's like he's a different person, an enemy you aren't sure you should comply to. Ezra decides you're taking too long and seizes the top of your arms spinning you both around and pinning you against the pod's wall, knee hitched up between your legs keeping you in place. You squirm in a futile attempt to get away and gasp as he unzips the front of your suit and shoves it down to your waist. Ezra breathes heavily as he rakes his eyes up to your body to your face. Doing his best to swallow down his desire, he ignores your own heaving chest and grabs the back of your neck forcing you to look up at him.
“Little bird, take off that measly scrap of fabric and reveal the truth.” You gulp eyes wide fingering the knot of the bandage on your arm. Ezra gives you a little shake. “Do it now.”
So, you do, pulling apart the knot and unwinding it from your arm. You don't look at it, perhaps if you don't see it, it's not really there. Instead, you watch Ezra's face for his reaction, gleaning nothing as he releases your shoulder and grabs your wrist bringing it up for him to see clearly. His brow furrows as he inspects your forearm, a brand of three circles linked like a chain. Kevva, he'd hoped he'd been mistaken. You're frozen as his gaze returns to you, dark eyes furious he crowds around you, filling your senses, body pressing you against the wall. His leg shifts slightly between yours and you almost whimper.
“You've been dishonest, little bird, and I do not appreciate it.” Ezra feels at war, he's furious you lied but he understands why. He's fuming you had been running with a violent, malevolent group of pirates. He doesn't understand why you'd ran after the crash or why you'd turned to him. He wants to know what you have that your crew found so valuable. He wants to know how you're both so hard and so soft. All these thoughts rattle around in his head as he stares at you, your mouth slightly open and your lips wet, until he can only think about how good you feel pressed against him, how delicate you feel under the hand on your neck. How much, despite everything, he wants you. He doesn't notice how close he's gotten to you until he feels the puff of your breath on his face. And then you utterly surprise him.
You can almost hear him think as he stares down at you. You don't want to interrupt but his hold on you is drawing attention to his size, to how much strength and power he holds. It's like he's swirling all around you clouding your brain, filling it with him. So, you let yourself do what you want. You've got nothing to lose. Everything that's yours is in his hands and you can't bring yourself to care. He's leaning closer, bending so with his hand on your neck tilting your head up it's like you’re sharing breath. You close the gap and kiss him.
For a second, he freezes in surprise and then he's kissing you back. Harshly biting your lower lip before shoving his tongue into your mouth. It's desperate and rough and you lick into his mouth in response loving the low moan coming from deep in his chest. He releases your wrist and grasps your hip closing any distance left between you. He grinds into you, the leg between your thighs causing a delicious friction as you whimper into his mouth. He breaks the kiss and stares down at you for a second moving his hands to the bottom of your vest. At your nod he tugs it off and pounces back on you. He rubs his hands up your sides as he kisses you, loving the feeling of how big they are on your frame and how you gasp as he pinches your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. You wriggle against him trying to unfasten his suit and shove it down his arms. He obliges, stepping back he pushing it off and kicks it away leaving him in his underclothes, staring at you, pupils blown wide with lust as he takes you in. Then he's back on you, seizing your jaw and tilting your head up to look at him as his other hand tugs down the remainder of your suit taking your leggings with it.
Eyes look up and down your form, drinking it in as he reaches down to rub a finger over the wetness soaking your underwear. Your mouth drops open and Ezra seizes the opportunity to shove his thumb in your mouth, his grip adjusting to your chin. Smiling as you suck on it.
“Look at you” he coos dragging his nose into your cheek almost mockingly “On display for me, you look good enough to eat.” He punctuates this by biting your neck and pulling your thin underwear taut against your clit just enough you cry out and stand on tiptoe. He grins down at you as you bite down gently on his thumb and then pulls off your underwear letting you kick it aside before stroking his fingers across your slit so gently it makes you buck towards his hand. He moves his hand back to your hip, pinning you back to the wall as he pulls his thumb from your mouth and wraps his hand around your throat, not squeezing just resting there.
“I want you to stay still,” his voice is low and commanding so you nod. “Repeat it back to me, I want to hear you.”
You whimper, “I'll stay still” and he grins before bending to kiss and nip along your jaw above his hand as his other moves back down to your cunt. He circles your clit so gently it's like he isn't really touching you and just as he slightly increases the pressure he draws back. A needy whine falls from your throat but you stay still and he murmurs against your cheek.
“Good little bird, so wet for me. You're positively dripping,” and then just as slowly he eases a finger into. You cry out, so wound tight it's agonising, the contrast between how harshly he gripped you before against his irreverent touches now making you ache for him more than ever. “Sing for me little bird” he demands and then he's really moving, pressing his finger against that spot inside you that makes you see stars, thumb drawing circles over your clit making you moan so loudly it surprises you.
Ezra watches the flush spread over your skin as your eyes roll back, he doesn't know how he wants you first. Just as you’re getting close, he realises. He wants you begging.
He forces himself to pull his hand away from you and watches as you shudder with tension eyes opening to look up at him. “Ezra…” your voice is so soft he grins.
You watch him as he raises his hand to his face to lick your juice off it, sucking his finger with a pop. It's so erotic you can only whimper as he smirks down at you. You want to touch yourself, make yourself cum while he watches, but as you lower your hand down he grabs your wrist and moves it back to his shoulder. “Don't misbehave birdie, right now all your pleasure is mine.” You bite your lip.
Then he returns his hand to your pussy, this time shoving two fingers in pumping them as he rubs his thumb against your clit more firmly than before. Your body quivers but his hand against your neck keeps you in place as you moan desperately. As soon as you get close again, he slows down to a stop this time keeping you stuffed with his fingers as you try to get some friction. “Please Ezra,” the tone of your voice shocks you, you've never sounded so needy.
He moves his face away from biting your ear lobe to look at you, “Please Ezra what, little bird? You've got to be clear”
You can't stop the words tumbling out of you, “Please can I cum, please make me cum Ezra”
He smiles almost cruelly, “You sound so exquisite when you beg.” He starts working his thumb again, brushing his lips against yours. The hand on your neck finally starts to squeeze, turning you on more. “Do it again.”
You do, no power could stop you begging for him, saying his name like a prayer. And then you're cumming, your vision goes white as Ezra squeezes your throat firmly, cutting the blood from your brain dragging it out as he shoves a third finger into your wet pussy.
Ezra swears he's never witnessed anything so magnificent. Your eyes rolling back into your head, mouth open and lips wet, unable to make a sound. How you soak his hand, how you tighten around his fingers. Now all he wants is to find out how many times, how many ways, he can break you apart.
When you begin to squirm, he reluctantly pulls away, you look up only to find he's pulling off his shirt and trousers. Your eyes widen as his cock springs free. You'd known he carried himself like he had nothing to be insecure about but Kevva… he's packing. It's huge and beautiful, slightly curved, a striking vein runner down it. You feel a little more breathless at the sight.
Ezra catches you staring and grins, pressing back against you, grabbing your arse and lifting you against him. You wrap your legs around him as he pins you up against the wall. His cock feels even bigger pressed against your stomach. Ezra grinds against you sucking marks down your neck as he notches himself at your entrance. You whine and claw his shoulders, he's barely into you and you're sure you've never felt so full. “Ezra” your voice is thready “Ezra I don't think you're going to fit.”
He coos in response thrusting shallowly getting slightly further in and making a cry out as you feel yourself drip around his cock. “Don't fret little bird,” he thrusts again getting deeper, kissing you, relishing the feeling of your heat around him, “I know you can take me.”
He thrusts decisively, bottoming out and pushing the air from your lungs. It feels like he's breaking you open, splitting you in two with his cock and you love it. Love the ache as you adjust, love how you can almost feel him in your stomach, love how he has you pinned to the wall supported by those strong hands and his body and totally at his mercy.
You can barely register he's talking as he grinds his hips against your clit. “... squeezing so tight around me. Never in all my time have I gotten so close to Nirvana.”
He waits until you've started to writhe in his arms, just add he'd imagined, begging for him to move. Then he starts long deep thrusts, interspersed by him grinding against your clit making you whimper and moan as you feel his cock drag across your walls.
“Kevva plucked you out of my head and sent you here for me. You're divine, exquisite…” you can't focus on the words, in no time at all you're cumming again. Squeezing him so tight he chokes on his words and kisses you deeply. He doesn't slow down or speed up, keeping his devastating pace until your body starts to relax. Then he nips at your jaw, hooking his arms under your knees and around your back, spreading his palms wide. He steps away from the wall and, slightly afraid he'll drop you, you grab the back of his neck, but you needn't worry.
Now with you impaled on his cock suspended in the air by his arms, he truly begins to ruin you. Lifting you up and slamming you back he watches your cunt take him, watches how your breasts bounce, watches you throw your head back in a silent scream. He bites into your neck leaving a mark as he sets a brutal pace. Seeing you like this, feeling you like this, has stolen his vocabulary so he curses and growls as he watches, totally enraptured by how well you take him. He thinks maybe he tells you but he can't be sure.
Ezra’s still talking his sentences shorter but still as dirty, the way he praises you makes you moan and combined with his he is destroying you; you don't think you'll ever experience something this good again and then you don't think anything much at all. Just Ezra, his strength, his beautiful words, how perfectly he's fucking you.
Ezra knows he can't last much longer, not in this heaven but he's determined to make you cum again before he does just to feel it. So, he moves you slightly in his arms until he hits that bit which takes your cries even higher. He grins as you dig your nails into his shoulders, the slight pain both grounding him and making him lose his mind.
You feel so overwhelmed and overstimulated that when he adjusts his thrusting you can't help the few tears escaping as you wail. He just pulls you slightly closer and licks them up before staring down and watching how your pussy stretches to take him. You’re so close again you're sure you might explode if you don't cum, or if you do. And then you do, you can't even make a sound as your whole body goes rigid and Ezra doesn't stop pounding you. Instead, you hear him growl and curse and his thrusts get faster and shorter.
Ezra had never experienced anything hotter. The way you threw your head back and took it as he fucked you like a ragdoll. The feeling of you clenching around him. How you soaked him, the sound of your fucking would stay with him forever. And then he's cumming, he bites down on your shoulder groaning into your skin as he releases. His mind is wonderfully blank as he squeezes you against himself and fills you up with a dozen shallow thrusts.
He doesn't release you right away, just holds you to his chest as he turns to lean against the wall cock still in you. Blissful in the moments before his thoughts start buzzing again. When you can move you look up at Ezra, he meets your eyes, gaze totally unreadable. He reluctantly releases you with a groan and grabs his shirt as he kneels and begins to clean off your combined juices dripping down your legs. Seeing him on his knees taking care of you threatens to give you hope which you tamped down. He didn't know the truth yet and he had readily thrown you out once before. When he's done, he stands and tosses the shirt to the side, tugs on his soft under trousers as you pull on your own clothes. The silence feels like a giant pit between you and you glare at your feet unsure how to start this important conversation.
To your surprise Ezra gently pinches your chin and tilts your head up to look at him. “We've still got much to discuss, little bird.” At your nod he pulls your hand into his ignoring how small and delicate it feels and gently tugs you towards the burrow. He has to know the truth.
⧫⧫⧫
You sit next to each other, his back against the wall, you sitting forward nervously running your fingers over the brand on your arm. Ezra just watches you, waits for you to explain and hopes you aren't a threat he'll have to get rid of after you've shared such intimacy.
“I don't… I won't come off like a very good person or partner when I tell you this. So just listen… please?”
Ezra nods, “None of us can be considered a good person, our humanity is dependent on our survival” he sighs, “Spin your tale, I'll remain in silence until it's done and keep my judgement of our partnership till it's completion”
You swallow, “I fixed a ship, that's how this whole mess started. We were leaving a dig and something had gone wrong which would have forced us to land. But I suited up and fixed it in zero G. It was completely stupid and shouldn't have worked but it did and we made it back to the dock. It wasn't till we'd sold off all our gems and separated that I was cornered. Turns out the malfunction wasn't an accident and by fixing it I'd cost them a lot of money in what they would have stolen from us. They reckoned I owed them and… they aren't people you want to owe”
You close your eyes and Ezra watches you tense. He'd like nothing more than to pull you into his arms but as he reaches for you, he clenches his fist. He needs to hear you out.
“They went through the rest of my team to get to me…” oh, Ezra understands they'd totally isolated you. “Well, they worked out since I could fix their brakes, I could mess up the ships in ways that couldn't be fixed without an emergency landing. They branded me there and then. Didn't even tell me how long I'd have to work to balance what I owed; probably thought I'd be dead by then.” You look down at your arm and frown.
When you look back at Ezra, his eyes are sharp, watching you intensely. “That scars old, little bird, how long did you dutifully aid their robberies.” Robberies of prospectors, people like him, people who'd been like you.
You look away, jaw clenched, “Long enough for it to get easy.”
Ezra doesn't move behind you, doesn't speak. You can't look at him.
“And then I couldn't anymore, I saw what I'd become and I hated it.” Your nails dig into your arm. “No one's good out in the fringe. But I was worse. I can't make up for what I did… can't take it back, can't return lives, possessions any of that. But I could stop, bring my crew down too. We used a distress beacon to lure in the other ships and…” you laugh “This time as I boarded after dealing with the other ship. I dunno, I just snapped and blew our engine too.”
Your mouth twists at the memory, “The pilot saw and I… when I was done, I just thought one down. I didn't want to die myself, that’s the easy way out, so I did my best to pull the chutes, hoping I'd play dead and hitch a ride out. Well, you know the rest.”
You stare straight ahead as a tense silence follows not daring to see Ezra glare at you. You don't see his soft eyes looking you up and down, his mind reeling. Had he known this when you’d first met, he would have shot you without question and left you to rot, your presence nothing more than a risk to his survival. But now, you’d saved him, talked with him, he’d gotten to know you. How you drink your caf black saying you’re “sweet enough”, how you look in the morning, how you laugh, how you moan. He knows he can’t kill you now, but you are a threat. He doesn’t know what to do. “Why are they searching for you? What do you have that they want? Your friend mentioned something.”
You laugh humorlessly, “They don't know where the other ship crashed, I was in the pilot’s seat, so no one else could see it go down. Fat lot of good it'll do them wrecked here.”
There's a bang on the side of the pod, “Shite” Ezra mumbles, “Our quixotic friends have returned.”
⧫⧫⧫
The wait for them to leave seems to take hours, the silence making your heart pound and your thoughts race over what you can do now. Ezra will definitely want you gone, only a mad man would keep you around with your history. Perhaps back to the original plan, see if you can mend the other ships escape pod and get the hell off this planet.
By the time the locals have decided your pod is empty, your plan is set. You stand, not looking back at Ezra. “I'll get scarce, I know I'm a problem waiting to happen.”
You grab your bag feeling in the pocket for your ring, a memory of a home you can't return to, old gods you're no longer sure are there. You look down at it as you step out of the burrow not noticing Ezra follow. You shove it into your suit pocket.
He is stumped for words as he watches you grab your possessions that have become scattered around the pod. He sees how your lives have become enmeshed. Scraps from your notebook scattered around where you'd played hangman or left notes and reminders for each other, items of clothing he watches you fail to pack, that damn terrible caf on the workbench.
He's not sure that he'll ever get all the pieces of you out of the pod, out of himself. You're under his skin, the very smell of you making his heart beat with more determination. As you reach for your helmet, he grabs your hand and finally you look up at him.
“Don't leave, I don't want you to leave.”
It's so simple but it means so much more and he thinks you maybe realise as you look up at him tears in your eyes. “I don't want to go.”
And then he kisses you. It's slower than before but no less fierce sparking a deep need in your chest. Gently now, he pulls off your suit as if he's still persuading you to stay before running his hands up your arms and down your back and sides like he's memorising your shape. When he kisses you again it's hungry, intense, he's trying to put words he's afraid to speak into it and it totally wiped your mind as you let him pull you back into his burrow.
Then he's peeling all your clothes off you. His touch is irreverent like he's unwrapping a precious artifact. He tugs you to lie down and settles between your legs pulling off his own shirt. He balances his weight on his arm above your head to nip at your lips, you reach up to run your hands up his chest, feeling him shudder as you gently rake your nails over the skin.
His other hand is squeezing your breast and pinching your nipple before seizing your hip and pulling you flush against him. The friction of his trousers against you, combined with how he's surrounding you, invading all your senses, is overwhelming.
“You are something else entirely,” he's kissing his way down your body, sucking purple bruises as he goes, seeming determined to mark every inch of you. “I could travel the whole breadth of this hostile galaxy and never find a sight as breath-taking as you laid out before me, a divine meal worthy of gods”
His words turn you on more as his ministrations make their way down to your legs. He bites your inner thigh almost too hard, making you squeal and jerk away but he grabs your hips and pulls you back, laving his tongue over the slight indent left by his teeth. You don't know how he's done it, not hours ago he railed you into oblivion and somehow, he has wound you tight all over again. It's like he's playing an instrument, plucking your strings both hard and soft so you melt.
His eyes meet yours, dark and hungry and he holds your gaze as he licks up your slit, his tongue wide as flat. You moan softly as he smiles, “Straight from the source your essence is even more delectable.” He stares at your pussy, seemingly fascinated by how it's fluttering around nothing, totally rapt by a droplet of your arousal sliding its way down.
You whimper at him, and try to buck your hips in his grip, desperate for him to do anything other than stare. He chuckles at you, “So willing to give yourself to me,” then he spits on your cunt. You gasp, half from shock and half from how much it turned you on. He grins as you tense and dives in.
Ezra eats you out like water from a well after crossing a desert. It feels as if he's writing the words, you’re stopping him saying all over your clit as you cry his name. His eyes closed he reaches up and seizes your hands, pulling you closer and settling his elbows over your hips keeping you still and at his mercy as he moans against you. Your eyes close as you feel sparks travel up and down your spine as he shoves his tongue into you making you whine but then he pulls away. Rubbing his cheek on your thigh, his beard tickling you.
“I want you to look at me little bird.” You can't help but obey his command instantly opening your eyes to see his pupils blown wide as he smirks. “You'd do just about anything for me to let you cum, wouldn't you? Don't worry your pretty head. I want you to cum in my mouth.”
Then he's back on you, sucking your clit between his teeth, you gasp his name trying to squirm away. his eyes piercing you, his mouth on you, his hands covering yours, his arms holding you down. It fills your head with him totally overpowering you and then you cum.
You go totally rigid, you're still looking at Ezra but your vision has gone so white you can't see him, just feel him moan against your cunt as you soak his tongue. Even as you start attempting to twist away, he continues, switching between sucking and licking at you as his strong arms pin you down. You cry out at the overstimulation, shuddering from it, tears leaking from your eyes and in no time at all you're thrown over the edge again. Cumming so hard your mind is totally wiped of anything but Ezra.
This time he grants you a reprieve, sitting up he watches your chest heave as you slowly come back into your body. He's lost for words, seeing you like this is better than anything he'd ever imagined and he still wants more, wants to ring every drop of pleasure out of you. And when you smile up at him, totally blissed out and willing, he's sure he'd do almost anything to keep you.
He doesn't put it into words though. Instead, he crawls over you seizing your jaw “Open that pretty mouth little bird,” something about how you so readily obey him twists in his chest and makes his cock twitch. He ignores it and bends close spitting into your mouth. You can taste yourself in it and it sparks your desire all over again.
He can't hold in a groan as you swallow, still smiling, his head seems too empty so he kisses you. It's fiery, filled with lust as you kiss him back and wrap your legs around him reaching down to pull off his trousers, he pulls back to kick them away as his cock springs free, it's hot and red as you wrap you hand around it, not even able to meet finger and thumb and squeeze slightly making him growl and bite along your jawline. “Tell me little bird, what would you will me to do?”
You meet his gaze, “Fuck me.” he groans into your neck, “Please.”
He watches your face as he positions himself at you entrance, “Kevva,” it's like he's not really talking to you, “I've never borne witness to anything so magnificent as your perfect cunt soaking me,” he slowly pushes his way in. It makes you whimper and him growl and you watch the tension in his neck as he restrains himself from ruining you, “Fuck you're tight.” His language is getting simpler as he starts losing control. His soft eyes beg you to let him move as his jaw clenches and you can't help but give in.
“Please Ezra, move! fuck me”
The noise he makes is inhuman as he starts drilling into you. He shoves one of your knees up over his shoulder, deepening his thrusts making you cry out as he shreds against your walls. All he can think is how hot you are, how wet, how tight, how perfectly you take him. He's shoving up against your g shot with every thrust, coarse hairs grinding on your clit, you feel totally at his mercy to do nothing but take it and it may be the best sex you've ever experienced, ever will experience.
He looks beautiful, your juices still glistening on his face, brow furrowed and eyes half lidded but so piercing you might think he was furious if not for how in-between curses he's describing you, what he thinks of you. You aren't sure he even knows he's talking and the need in his words drives you higher and higher despite how spent you feel, how much you don't think you can cum again. And then you do. Kevva the way you clamp down on him clawing his back makes him lose his mind, he shoves both your knees up to your chest bending over you to bite you lower lip. The change in angle adds more friction, his thrusts get shorter, faster. Ezra cums so hard he can't think, you watch his eyes roll into his head, the groan he makes cuts off his own speech as he shoves himself as deep into you as he can get and releases.
Ezra’s ears are still ringing when he manages to roll himself off you. Both of you are panting, as you stare at the roof of the pod and try to muster the words. Naturally, Ezra succeeds first. “Little Bird, I didn't know experiences such as that could be bestowed upon men like me.” You can only make a little noise in reply as he takes your hand and silence falls again.
Finally, when your breath is caught and you can both think again, he pulls you to his chest and wraps his arms around you resting his chin on the top of your head.
“Little bird, I'm starting to agree our dig may be bust. Trouble is biting our ankles and I should have listened earlier. Let's pillage what we can to fix the pod and get going. The dig is almost done, even split it'll be a while before I need to pick up another job.” You feel a sting at how quickly Ezra had returned to talking business but you do your best to brush it off. There's nothing wrong with some shagging between friends and it's no reason for him to feel the same fluttering in his chest that you do in yours.
“Right then we should travel light, get everything we need and come back. The fix won't take long, we can be gone in two days.” Two days left with Ezra makes you feel a little sad, you suppose you'd just gotten used to his company.
Ezra smiles grimly, “If we're lucky.”
You turn and roll over enjoying how he follows, wrapping you in his arms, tangling your legs like he can't bear to be separate. “I do have a question for you if you don't mind?”
You shrug, “Depends what it is.”
“What is that strange ring you carry but don't put on.”
“It's… it was a gift when I left home. It's supposed to be my payment.”
Ezra's mind casts back to how you paid honour to the dead, even those he certainly didn't think deserved a boatman. Saving them from a potential purgatory. But you didn't wear yours.
“Little bird, forgive my bluntness but curiosity is driving me to ask. Why don't you wear it?”
You squeeze your eyes closed, forcing away images of your past, grounded in Ezra's warm grip. “It's,” you sigh, “It's just too heavy.”
Ezra can feel how tense you've become and fights off the heavy guilt threatening to settle in his chest. You think yourself deserving of the hundred-year wait wandering the shore, think the loneliness is just. He kisses the back of your neck. “We should let our dreams take us lest we attract more trouble. It is salient we are well rested.”
You sigh, relaxing against him despite yourself. Long since exhausted by the day and his attentions, you let yourself drift off. Faintly feeling a hand caress your cheek, but you could have imagined it.
⧫⧫⧫
Waking up with someone warm in his arms is something Ezra could get used to. He tells you as much but you brush it off, someone isn't necessarily you after all. Ezra talks as you pack but he avoids the subject of you, of you both. He didn't want to scare you off, he tells himself, his flighty little bird. But he knows he's lying to himself, just being a coward, afraid of your reaction. He avoids meeting your eye until, helmets on, you both stand by the door. Taking a moment of peace before heading into the waste. He takes your hand seeking reassurance as much as trying to give it. You meet his eyes looking a little afraid but determined. He squeezes it tight before letting go and opening the door.
The walk East is easy enough, a pretty straight shot over flat ground. The only real problem being navigating the increasingly dense petrified forest. Ezra talks continuously, but you're grateful, glad it isn't awkward between you and enjoying his descriptions of other worlds he's visited. Where instead of breathless death and grey, there's vivid greens and blues of plants and flowers. Where the beauty is just as dangerous as this blank world. And, slowly, you start to talk too. Really talk. You describe a world that, to you, had seemed to be entirely made up of a casino, and the trouble you had gotten into there.
“Too rich for my blood,” Ezra chuckles and you agree.
You don't tell him about your home, not yet. But being able to talk, to laugh about something you'd done, feels freeing. Like a weight has been lifted ever so slightly off your shoulders.
You’re both grateful the walk is uneventful but you can't relax as the looming silhouette of the other spaceship appears through the trees. It's still too early for hope.
As you approach you see that the crew had successfully pulled their parachutes, but too late. The side of the ship had caved in where it had skidded across the earth, giving you both a way in. When you stop Ezra’s looking at you, “Any chance of survivors, little bird?”
You just shrug. “I doubt it after this. They were running a skeleton crew.” You wince slightly at the double entendre, hoping you have the time to find their bodies and pay their dues.
Ezra raises an eyebrow at you. “On a ship this big? That is most peculiar.”
“I guess, I didn't get a chance to think about it at the time.”
You go over the list again, 5 items, 5 areas. All small enough to carry in your packs. To yourself you add another item, just in case you get the chance.
“We stick together, watch each other’s backs.” You nod in agreement and you both step into the ship.
⧫⧫⧫
There's a faint dripping noise, like a clock ticking. It sets off your nerves as you leave the light of the suns. Inside is cast in red, a good sign the electrics haven't been fried, but totally unsettling. It casts humanoid shadows across the grated walls seemingly flickering with every step. Ezra had gone totally silent but his presence behind you is reassuring. Together you pry open the first door.
Inside has the same red light but the weapons board flashes at you telling you it's still live which is strange. You mumble it to Ezra. “These things usually shut down first after a crash, they drain loads of power that's usually diverted out.”
He frowns at you. “Mayhaps a malfunction? It looks like a rough crash.”
“Yeah. Probably.” But it niggles at the back of your brain. All you can do right now is ignore it so you wrench the panel out from the wall to the side and stick your arm in. Feeling around, you brush your fingers up against the dotted cylinder you need. These old ships had a habit of hiding important components in baffling locations, apparently to protect them in a crash which you do suppose this has, but you suspect it's to confuse novice engineers and pillagers alike.
Ezra is keeping a sharp eye on the door but he can't help but enjoy watching you work, grumbling about what a stupid place this was for a fuse break and how it would have been harder to wreck their engine had it actually been where all the ships power came from. He grins at you and you smile back tugging the, whatever it was, out of the wall. He tosses his pack over to you.
“I'll get this one birdie,” making you roll your eyes but you gently place it in and hand it back.
“Take care of that.”
“I'll cradle it as if it were a new-born.” He says so sincerely you can't help but snort.
“Don't worry too much, ships like these are made hardy, they don't just fry things like your pod.” He scowls playfully at you as you head back to the corridor.
“I will not hear a negative word about her, we've been together for years.”
The ship groans around you as if it's a living creature as you head deeper in. The maze of corridors makes Ezra feel turned around but you seem to know where to go and he follows dutifully. The next stop is a storage closet smaller than his little burrow.
Inside is a collection of boxes from which you produce two tiny discs. You look at Ezra, “I doubt they'll mind me taking a spare, these things are expensive.” Still not being entirely sure what everything you're searching for is, he just shrugs,
The moment of ease sputters out when you enter comms. There's a buzzing that sets your teeth on edge, someone's been on the radio. Ezra clicks it off but the silence is suddenly oppressive. Trying hard to hear any sign of life you scan the dark corners of the space.
“We don't know how long this has been on.” Ezra’s voice is steady but there's an edge you know too well. You agree all the same, hurrying to rip the tubing out from under the console. The blinking lights shut off with a hum as Ezra takes it from you, looping it together and shoving it into his pack. You don't argue.
Two items left, you'd saved the cockpit and the engine till last, both at the opposite end of the ship.
The door to the cockpit is open. you look at Ezra, his jaw is set glaring into it. You head in first moving swiftly to the control panel to the side to start pulling the whole thing apart for one measly chip. He disappears into the shadows to search the room. It's too big, too many places to hide, he thinks to himself trying to picture the best place for an ambush.
He finds one body, curled in on itself as if tossed into the corner. The next is under a nav table, arms over its head. The final one is the hardest to look at, in the pilot seat, hand still grasping the parachute release. He swallows as he takes in this futile effort to survive, picturing the final moments as the ground rises to meet them, the hopelessness.
He spins when he hears your voice.
“Wait, wait!”
“You should have stayed away-“
Ezra doesn't even think, he just shoots and the man with a blade at your throat drops. He didn't even know he could draw that fast. He fights off the adrenaline, calming his breathing as he approaches you. Your eyes are wide with shock and you take a deep breath looking up at him.
“Thank you, Ezra.”
He just wants to pull you close, hold you against him, protect you with his body. With the suits and helmets, it would be uncomfortable so he grabs your hand and pulls it to his chest.
“Think nothing of it.”
“I didn't think there could be any survivors.” At that he examined the body. Shit, the suit, the emblem, the skull etched into the glass of his helmet.
“That, little bird, is because there aren't any. It appears that the locals are here.”
You squeeze his hand. “We've got to hurry.”
He nods, “Give me three coins.”
He’s found them. You'd already known they'd be dead but the confirmation sits heavily over you. You hand him the coins.
“You finish here, I'll take care of them. Don't worry.”
The kindness he's showing by doing it for you aches in your chest. You take the frustration out on the unsuspecting control panel. Tearing into it, pulling parts out, desperately trying to get a grip on your emotions and breathe a sigh of relief when you emerge, chip in hand. No one has ever extracted one so quickly you reckon. You shove it in your pack.
Heading to Ezra you take his hand, try to convey thanks through the touch alone. Thanks for saving you, thanks for not making you bear this burden solitarily, thanks for just being company after so long alone. You look up at him, he's chewing his words again but doesn't speak so you turn and lead him out.
In the engine room you seize a battery and yank it from the wall, grateful the lights stay on. Ezra takes it from you. “Don't argue birdie I'm bigger than you.”
He's cut off by a horn echoing through the ship. You swallow.
Taking his hand again, you both creep out of the room. Every sound is too loud, you curse your boots, the rattle of your tools, your own harsh breathing. You can't fail now, you're so close. At the sound of footsteps, you pull Ezra through a door into a room with bunks, closing the door as quietly as you can, you both hold your breath. As they pass the door his grip tightens on yours so much you feel the heat of his hand through your gloves. His eyes scan your face, like he's trying to memorise what you look like. You realise you’re doing the same to him.
When they pass you glance around the room as Ezra slumps against the door his eyes shut tightly. As you let go of him you see something in the corner of your eye. No fucking way. It's a gem case, unassuming on the outside but far bigger than the one Ezra carried. Item number six.
You shove it into your bag.
⧫⧫⧫
Neither of you seem to breath for the rest of your journey through the ship. Eyes and ears too peeled to do much else. The second you see the light outside you swallow. You say a prayer to yourself as you creep towards it.
The light blinds you as you step out. Something shoves you to the side, you hit the ground hard knocking the wind out of you as you try to see what hit you. The second your eyes adjust to the light you see Ezra trying to knock back one of the locals, trying to gain space to draw. You wrestle your pistol out of your holster and aim but you can't shoot. Their dance is too close and you're afraid to hit Ezra.
It all happens in slow motion. The stranger thrusts his spear into Ezra's stomach and pulls it out. He cries out stumbling back giving you a straight shot. You fire the same moment as the local brings his spear down on Ezra’s helmet.
You shoot too late.
Ezra drops back against the ship sliding to sit. Shattered glass glitters over the ground around you threatening to cut your knees as you crawl to him. His helmet is shattered.
“No no no no no” you press on the wound in his stomach tugging your pack off your back to get the med kit. “We've got to go, there's going to be more of them.”
He puts a hand over yours. “Little bird, I'm afraid my adventure has come to its conclusion”
You look at his face. “No Ezra! I can close this for now, we've got time. We can make it back.” His eyes are wide and sad, wet with the threat of tears. “Don't look at me like that!” There's desperation in your voice.
“You've got to go. Relieve yourself of my burden, you can repair the vessel and get away by yourself. You don't need me.”
“Shut up! I can't just leave you here.” You push his hands away and pull out a gun of sealing foam “Don't fucking argue with me, we've got so close you can't just give up.” Ignoring his arguments, you press the nozzle through his suit and fill his wound. He lets out a groan. As quick as you can, you pull your pack back on and stand seizing Ezra's arms and heaving him to his feet. He gives a short shout of pain but doesn't protest as you hook his arm over your shoulder for support.
You start to walk like this as the suns begin to dip. Keeping your pistol in your free hand you scan around you. The dead trees provide good cover but they also give any attackers the element of surprise so you do your best to listen out whilst you support Ezra.
It's a little difficult with his talking but you can't complain, not when it means he's still alive. But he's getting heavy, putting more weight on you, you don't know how long you can hold him up. Just as you're beginning to feel truly weak his topic of conversation changes.
“Little bird, it has been an exponential honour to be enclosed within your company. To have your trust if only a little. Kevva, the chance to learn your body the way I got to was a treasure worth more than any gem I could find. I only wish I could learn your mind just as intimately, to possess the knowledge of what makes you laugh, cry, your favourite food, favourite music. I'd cherish every drop of yourself you'd let me have until I could carry a vault of you with me”
“Ezra, don't…”
“The opportunity is being stolen from me, I both resent it and I'm so grateful for the time I've had. Little bird, don't let my soliloquy deceive you. I mean every word.”
You can't stop moving, but you grab onto him a little tighter. Letting yourself squeeze your eyes closed just for a moment to fight off the tears. There's no guarantee he'll survive, no hope yet, no point admitting feelings just to let him die. It would hurt too much.
You keep walking. Reminding Ezra to breath as slow as he can. Holding yourself together just to keep him upright.
Then you see it, your pod, through the trees, dark against the burning red sky.
There are two locals at the door. They turn.
Before you can think to react, Ezra pushes you aside as a spear careens where you'd just been stood. Drawing before you can blink, he fires twice. The locals fall. And then, so does he.
⧫⧫⧫
You aren't sure if you're saying his name out loud or just in your head. You roll him into his back and try to shake him awake. He doesn't even stir.
Instead, you seize the straps of his pack and use them to drag him towards your pod.
Your muscles are screaming after supporting him for so long but you don't let up, drawing strength from who knows where.
How did the pod seem so close minutes ago? Now it's miles away.
You don't know when you started crying.
You don't stop moving, can't stop until you've managed to pull him inside and seal the door. You yank off your helmet, tossing it aside and falling to your knees next to him pressing your ear to his chest, desperately trying to hear his heart through his suit.
It's dead silent.
That's when you scream. Tears streaming down your face you bring your fist down on his chest as hard as you can.
“Breath you bastard! Take a fucking breath!” You're sobbing now, “You can't just leave me here, leave me all alone. Not after all this. Not when we got so close.”
You curl over him pressing your face to his, your tears dripping onto him leaving tracks through the dust and blood on his skin. “You can't leave me alone,” it's barely a whisper. “Ezra.” You say his name over and over again like a prayer.
And then his chest moves.
You don't know whether you should laugh. You just keep bawling as you tear off his suit and grab his hand.
He doesn't wake up but it's enough, you squeeze his warm hand for another second before wiping at your face and getting your med kit. “Let's see what I can do about this wound hmm?”
⧫⧫⧫
Ezra hears someone calling his name. But they seem so far away. He tries to move towards the voice but it's like moving through syrup. He lets himself sink back.
⧫⧫⧫
The wound is deep and spurts with blood as you pull out the foam, painting your hands in the same red as the sky outside. Pursing your lips, you apologise to him, hoping he doesn’t feel the pain. Cleaning the wound takes time but as far as you can tell the spear managed to avoid all his organs so you seal it up as best you can. The lack of oxygen is what has you truly worried, who knows what damage could have been done in the time it took you to drag him to the pod. With your medication he might heal but you can’t be sure. You fight off the thoughts of what you’d have to do if he never did wake up. Would you be able to bury him?
You sleep curled to his side, a hand on his shoulder. It’s fitful, plagued by nightmares of waking up to find him cold. Every time you wake up crying, you watch his chest rise and fall and pray, he’ll make his way back to you.
⧫⧫⧫
The next thing he hears is a clang followed by a curse, then it's silent again
⧫⧫⧫
Ezra made it through the night. To distract yourself from worrying he might never wake, you wrap him up warm and begin to repair the pod. It’s slow work but its methodical movements help regulate your breathing. Until you hear a grunt. You drop whatever you were working on and swear to yourself as you kneel by him. But he’s no more present than before. Perhaps you had imagined it. Prayed so hard you’d began torturing yourself. You look over him, how could you go on without him. No one to make you laugh, or care what happens to you. It’s justice you suppose, just another thing for you to feel guilty about. You suppose you’ll go on just to keep feeling that guilt.
Again, you barely sleep.
⧫⧫⧫
And then, as if surfacing from a dive, Ezra opens his eyes. His back hurts. He works out why as, slowly, he identifies the ceiling above him. He's lying on the floor with nothing more than a pillow and a blanket that's been tucked all around him up to his neck. He wrestles his arms free, stretching them above his head and then prodding his stomach, it's tender but the wound is closed. Then he sits up with a grunt.
You're stretching up to try and pull a ration bar of the top shelf of your measly kitchen cupboard. You swear and turn to find something to climb on and then you see Ezra.
He's sitting up, grinning from ear to ear. You nearly jump a foot into the air and then you’re frozen to the spot. He chuckles to himself and clambers to his feet, it looks difficult but you aren't sure you can move to help so you stay put as he supports himself along the wall and approaches you.
“Little bird, you are the most incredible, fascinating, stubborn creature I have ever laid my eyes upon.” And then he's pulling you into his chest, wrapping you in such a grip it's a little difficult to breath but you don't mind. You just hug him back, if gently, very aware of how he'd recently been stabbed. He buries his nose in your hair. “How long was I out?”
“Three days, I managed to melt down some meds to inject you so you… well, so you actually healed. Oh, and then I fixed the pod but it didn't feel safe to take off what with you having a hole in you.”
He laughs, you can feel it rolling through his body and it makes you grin. It's so alive.
“May I also ask why I was on the floor?” That's your cue to laugh to.
“Do you honestly think I could lift you onto the cot?”
“Frankly little bird, I didn't think you could have got me to the pod. You are certainly a force to be reckoned with and not one to be underestimated.”
You close your eyes and breath him in. “I almost didn't make it.” He just shushes you running his hands up and down your sides.
“No point wondering what could have been birdie. You saved me.” You look up at him, his eyes are wet as he smiles down at you. “What I did to deserve it may evade my knowledge forever, but it must have been spectacular.”
You feed Ezra and then force him to stay still for the day. Even as he protests you don't really think he minds, finally getting an opportunity to finish reading ‘The Power’. You sleep curled into his side.
The next day you leave.
⧫⧫⧫
Two days floating in space before the station slings back to pick you up. The sense of relief is immense. Ezra is in the seat next to you, any other person telling such a graphic tale about a flight home wrong would've sprung anyone with nerves but you just grin. You made it, you both made it.
“Even split, little bird? Although, I can't say I find the idea of us separating particularly appealing.”
You grin, “Me neither, although I do maintain the even split, you save my arse, I save yours.”
He smirks, “I'll have your arse anytime” you smack his knee with what was formerly his copy of ‘Perfume’. He scowls playfully, tossing his own book aside and tugging you into his lap.
And then looks totally bemused as your mouth drops open, “Holy shit I can't believe I forgot!” You hop off him and he grumbles at you but watches curiously wondering what you'd forgotten that was so important. You kneel to open your pack, pulling out a gem case. A huge gem case.
“Where in that abhorrent hell did you manage to acquire that?”
“I think it was why I was told to bring down that ship, I picked it up in the bunk room.”
It's locked but you happily spend the next half an hour gently taking apart one screw at a time. Ezra watches you the whole time, not even thinking about your bounty, just enjoying how you hum to yourself and smile every time a screw comes loose, batting his hands away every time he grabs at you. It's domestic.
You meet his eye as the last screw comes loose and he joins you kneeling on the floor. “Let's not get our hopes up” you say, “We've got more than enough to last a while whatever happens.” He nods and you pull the case open.
His jaw drops. “That is remarkable.”
You meet his eye and laugh. You've never seen him look so surprised. There are three gems inside, each one about the size of your head.
He lets out a huff of laughter “I’m beginning to suspect there was nefarious business afoot on that ship…”
“Ezra?”
“Mmhm?”
“I think I'd like to go somewhere with a sea.”
“Little bird, I suspect that can be arranged” Then he kisses you, pulling you against him.
You wriggle back, “Even split?” He just grins and bites at your ear.
In no time at all you’re in his lap as you pull off each other’s clothes. He rubs his beard against your bare neck to make you giggle as he nibbles it, hands roaming all over you. You nip his collar bone making him groan, it flips a switch in him and seconds later he’s grabbing your hips to position you over his cock.
He lowers you down so slowly it makes you squirm and whimper and beg him to move.
He grins at you, catlike, “We’ve got all the time in the world, little bird. And I intend to use it”
⧫⧫⧫
Hours later you wake. Ezra is snoring quietly into your neck tempting you to rouse him. You’re thirsty though, so, reluctantly, you peel his arms off you to get a glass of water. As you return your toe catches on your suit where it lies on the floor. As you reach to move it your ring drops out of the pocket, clinking quiet onto the ground.
You bend to pick it up and look at Ezra, then back at the ring. Had you not gone through all those years in that gang of pirates, you’d never have found him, never got to save his arm or his life. You both might be dead. You had been right; you couldn’t change your past. But you’d never know what else might have happened. There’s still guilt, there always will be. But you feel a little lighter.
You put on the ring and return to Ezra. He pulls you against his chest without waking.
You smile.
~~~~~~~~
Taglist: @engineeredfiction @mothandpidgeon @sleep-tight1
#ezra prospect#prospect 2018#ezra prospect x reader#ezra prospect x you#ezra prospect smut#ezra prospect 2018#pedro pascal#ezra fanfiction#ezra prospect fanfiction#ezra x you#ezra x reader#ezra prospect x afab reader#smut#oh god I've done it
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Day 2 - No Vacancy
It is the last day of November and no one wants to buy any more pumpkins.
Halloween has gone by, and Thanksgiving has blown past too. The people of Lebanon, Kansas have had their fill of the bright orange gourds - for more than two months they've displayed them on their front porches, carved them into jack-o-lanterns, and added them into every kind of dessert and frothy little drink imaginable.
And that is why, on November 30th, Dean decides his family is going on a field trip to the Lebanon Corn Maze and Pumpkin Patch.
Things have been good lately. No, scratch that. Life has been freakin' awesome. It has been just under two weeks since he rescued Cas from the Empty and a week since Jack came home. Dean is over the moon; radiating happiness in a way he never has before. They're all together, alive, and no Big Bad hovers menacingly on the horizon. Dean's not one to believe in a 'best case scenario,' but hell if this doesn't feel just like it.
The farm is about a twenty-five minute drive from the Bunker, and Dean, Cas, and Jack pull up in the Impala at the same time as Sam and Eileen arrive in Sam's CR-V.
(Dean had teased him mercilessly about his new ride until Sam looked him dead in the eye, placing his hand protectively on Eileen's protruding belly, and insisted "Honda gets really good safety ratings, Dean." Dean, wisely, had shut up after that.)
Claire and Kaia are already there waiting, leaning up against Claire’s car, hand in hand. Jack leaps out of Baby as soon as Dean puts her in park, barreling toward the girls so he can nag Claire about his latest obsession: TikTok. Even from a distance it’s clear she’s rolling her eyes at him, but smiling despite herself
Dean and Cas get out of the car at a more leisurely pace and survey their surroundings.
What had been a busy festival complete with a lush corn maze, vibrant pumpkin patch, and stalls selling kettle corn and caramel apples two months ago is now a dismal scene. The corn maze has dried out and shriveled up, and the stalls are unmanned. Technically, there are still pumpkins aplenty in the field, but they're the ones that have been forsaken. The remaining pumpkins are leftovers that were considered either too skinny, too fat, or just too misshapen and lumpy to have been picked as the cream-of-the-crop.
Dean looks over at Cas. He’s squinting at the scenery in the dim autumn sunlight, and the nippy breeze has swept through his dark hair, making it seem more tousled than usual. Not for the first time, Dean thinks that he is gorgeous.
But now, he can actually tell Cas what he is feeling in these moments. There are no more half-truths or lies between them, nothing secret. After years of pining for one another without any hope of reciprocation and hiding the pains of longing, they’ve finally broken down the walls that kept them apart. They love one another fiercely, and while their relationship is new, it is not tenuous.
So, Dean turns to him with a crooked grin. “Hey, handsome.”
Cas blinks, and then a little smile curls the corners of his mouth. “Hello, Dean.”
Dean moves closer until their shoulders are brushing and he can feel the warmth of Cas’ body through both of their jackets. “You think Jack’s gonna be disappointed?” he asks quietly, watching their kid practically tackle Sam with a hug as Eileen signs something Dean can’t quite make out from the other end of the parking lot. “I mean, this isn’t exactly the ‘autumn glory’ we were promised on those fliers earlier this month.”
Cas doesn’t even hesitate. “No. I think Jack just appreciates having a normal...uh, sort of a normal life again. He’s excited to be here picking pumpkins, especially with Claire and Kaia, and Sam and Eileen joining us. This was a nice surprise you planned for him, Dean.”
It’s a simple compliment, and not even particularly saccharine, but Dean flushes from head to toe anyway. He’s working on believing the good things Cas says about him; he’s really trying, but it’s always been difficult for him to take a compliment about anything other than his good looks or hunting prowess. Instead, he meets Cas’ eye, and nods silently. And then, remembering he is allowed, takes Cas’ hand in his own, twining their fingers together.
They walk hand-in-hand to join Claire, Kaia, Jack, Sam and Eileen at the front gate. It’s hanging wide open, and no one is standing there to charge them an entrance fee. However, the sign does make a point to state that the maze is open until December 1st. Eileen shrugs, and so the seven of them wander down the path towards the pumpkin patch and the entrance to the maze.
“Kaia! I’ll race you to the end!” Jack shouts, and laughing, Kaia chases him into the maze, dragging a grumbling Claire along behind her.
“Let’s see if we can find anybody still working,” Sam suggests.
Eileen points at a worn down farmhouse tucked mostly behind a newly-painted red barn. “Someone must be home,” she signs pointedly, gesturing to plumes of smoke exuding from a grey chimney stack.
Dean ends up knocking on the door. He leaves Sam, Eileen, and Cas at a nearby picnic table, debating in Sign Language about the best flavor of cotton candy and whether or not the color of the dye changes the taste.
A minute or two later, an older man swings open the squeaky screen door to the house. He’s scowling, wearing muddy overalls, and chewing on a thick cigar. “Yeah?” he asks shortly. “Whaddya want?”
Dean raises his eyebrows at the farmer’s bluntness, but manages to respond politely. “My family and I saw fliers for this place a few weeks ago. We were hoping to buy some pumpkins and candy apples. What are you charging”
The farmer’s scowl grows deeper, and he looks past Dean to Sam, Eileen, and Cas relaxing on the bench, then narrows his eyes at the corn maze, where shrieks of laughter can be heard as the younger adults chase one another through the thinning stalks.
Getting impatient, with the man’s surly silence, Dean prods, “And…? It’s a yes or no question. Are you still selling pumpkins?”
The old man pulls the cigar out from between his teeth. “My wife and daughter run this hokey shit,” he grunts. “They went into town today ‘cause folks already came through here earlier in the month. They like customers. We haven't had anybody else stop by since before Thanksgiving.”
As his temper flares, Dean turns his grit teeth into a sharp smile. “Well, then it’s your lucky day! Here we are,” he says mockingly, sweeping his arms wide. The farmer mumbles something insulting and covers it with a hacking cough. Dean pretends not to hear him, “Fine. I take it from your sunny attitude that there will be no popcorn or apples today?”
The man scoffs, “Enjoy the maze, boy-o. Free of charge.” He turns to lumber back inside, but Dean grabs the screen door before he can try to disappear.
“Hey!” the hunter barks. The farmer pauses, his body tensing for a fight. “Are you gonna sell me the goddamn pumpkins or not?”
Cas has wandered to his side, either noticing the commotion, or simply because he wanted to be closer to Dean. Now, he interrupts casually, “You still have quite a few squash left in the fields and there’s going to be heavy frost two days from now, overnight. It’d be a shame if all of these pumpkins rotted, and you wasted the rest of your harvest.”
He has, quite deftly, snared the salty old farmer’s attention. Money is the man’s language; he might not enjoy having customers on his property so late in the season, but he certainly likes having the funds to maintain his land.
****************************************
“A hundred.”
“A hundred?” Sam sounds insulted. “You’re gonna pitch all of these in a couple days. There’s no way we’re paying a hundred. Try twenty-five dollars.”
The farmer rolls his eyes dramatically. He is in his element; the thrill of making a good deal and bartering his wares on the last day is an unexpected but welcome surprise that has put him in high spirits. “You’re cute, kid. I know my produce is worth more than that. I’ll go down to eighty-five, and you can take whatever you can carry in one trip.”
“Thirty-five,” Sam shoots back.
“Eighty.”
“Forty-one.” Once, Sam was going to be a lawyer. He’s got the upper hand in this situation and he’s going to crush his opposition. One more price reduction and they’ll have dozens of pumpkins to take home, way below the original asking price.
“Sevent…”
“Sixty-five, and we fill up all of our cars,” Dean interrupts, and Sam looks at him, utterly betrayed as the gleeful farmer shakes on the deal.
As Cas, Jack, Claire, and Kaia help carry the pumpkins to Sam and Claire’s cars respectively, Dean just claps Sam on the shoulder and tells his brother, “It’s still a cheaper family outing than going to Disney.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Sam says mournfully, and sulks over to help Eileen, who is supervising the influx of pumpkins that are being loaded into their vehicle.
Dean chuckles, and scoops up a few pumpkins. He’s got some recipes he wants to try out, plus he’s excited to teach Jack to carve ‘Jack’-o-lanterns. The kid seemed to want to learn how to do everything the human way now, and Dean is more than happy to teach him.
One by one, Dean places eight pumpkins in the backseat of Baby. One is tall and oblong with lots of stringy stems, matched with the only short and well rounded pumpkin he sees in the field. Between those two he sets a teeny tiny baby-sized pumpkin. Then, there’s a pumpkin that is half-green half-orange. It seems like it must have grown too fast because it is still quite young despite its size. Next, he adds two medium pumpkins that are also young, but growing strong. And last but not least, he picks up two more pumpkins. They are both a bit damaged - one is bruised and discolored, the other looks like it might have grown sideways. But Dean picks them because they lean against one another in the field, steady despite their flaws, despite what they’ve been through.
He sets them all up in a long line along the backseat, and when Cas sees what he chose, his eyes go soft and warm as he looks at Dean.
“Let’s go home,” he breathes out, and takes Dean’s hand again.
Everyone gets in their cars - Dean in the driver's seat and Cas taking shotgun, as before. Jack tries to get in the Impala, then looks in the back window, and starts laughing.
“Dean! There’s nowhere for me to sit.”
Cas chuckles quietly beside him, as Dean grins. “Aw, tough break, kid. Guess you’re walking home.”
“Hey, no fair- Dean! C’mon! Cas! Tell Dean he has to -”
Dean starts to roll up the window, laughing loudly as Jack knocks on the window pane.
“Sorry! No vacancy!” he hollers. Jack is nearly doubled over, hilarity spilling from him in peals of laughter.
Claire honks her horn loudly, and throws open the back door to her car. Jack straightens, and scrambles to join her and Kaia, shooting Dean and Cas a bright wave goodbye.
Sam and Eileen also wave as they leave the parking lot, wheels sending gravel spinning in their wake. Claire and Kaia follow, and Jack rolls down the window as they pass, and calls across to Cas and Dean, “This was the best family trip ever!”
They too are soon gone, headed for the Bunker to drop off dozens of pumpkins which will decorate every room until they end up decaying or until Dean cooks them.
Dean and Cas wait until the others have left, and then Dean leans over and kisses Cas, long and sweet. When he pulls back, Cas traces his cheek, and says thoughtfully, “We could take the backroads home today….”
Dean is so gone on him. He kisses Cas once, twice more, and then puts the Impala in drive, and they’re on the road, taking the long way home.
**********************************
I enjoyed adding a little Day 1 ‘Harvest’ flare to Day 2!
My goal is to make most of my Suptober fics one-shots that are in some way related to my multichapter fix-it that is still a work in progress (Dean/Cas, Sam/Eileen, etc, post 15x20).
Thank you for reading!
-V
#suptober21#Destiel#saileen#Jack Kline#claire novak#kaia nieves#found family#bunker family#team free will 2.0#fix it fic#100000 destiel fics#post-15x20#post finale#they all deserved to be happy#they all deserved so much better#othervorld writes
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Chase You/Chase Me (Pt. 7)
Part 7: Round and around we go
Catch up here: Series Masterlist
Chapter Summary: The attack in McGraw Byrne's offices reveals a deeper conspiracy that runs to the top of the law firm, which Alex pursued head on. But when the dust settles, she is forced to face the music of her own troubled mind.
Book/Pairing: Choices - Laws of Attraction / Gabe Ricci x MC (Alex Keating)
Words: 2.1k+
Rating/Warnings: Mature (16+) / themes of violence, and trauma, language. Reader discretion advised.
Disclaimer: Most of the characters as well as some dialogue belong to Pixelberry. I am merely borrowing them.
A week after, New York City
Shit. Shit. Shit.
The gunman panted as he ran through the dark and unfamiliar side streets of New York, the covering on his face not helping alleviate the sense of panic overtaking him.
His current state of mind paled in comparison with how calm he walked into the offices of that freakishly bright law firm.
The task was simple - get the phone and get out.
But when he found himself face to face with the woman who'd sent his life into a whirling clusterfuck, he didn't hesitate to pull the trigger.
He missed.
A brute of a man rammed into him right before he took a shot. Who knew corporate slaves can be combative? By then he knew he was fucked. He snatched the phone then ran.
An earlier scope of the building gave him an easy way out, but the shitty maze of the streets of the business district didn't give much of a reprieve.
I fucking hate this city.
He didn't know how long he'd been running, not until he had to stop by the dead end wall in front of him.
Blue and red flashing lights caught him in a daze, his breath heavy, realizing he was boxed in by police officers in an alley.
"Freeze!" one had shouted. "Raise your arms over your head!"
He didn't have a choice. He's not willing to die for his uncle, nor take another sentence in prison. That scumbag wasn't worth it, regardless of how many times that man tried drilling the thought into his head.
I'm tired of this shit anyway. Though I'll miss the perks.
He raised his hands, then felt his knees buckle when someone kicked him from behind, forcing him to the ground. Someone pulled the ski mask off his head, his face now exposed for everyone to see.
He was the younger, spitting image of Koenig's CEO. Except for those piercing blue eyes.
Now everyone will know, he thought. Poor uncle Peter will be burned to the stakes after he spill every single sordid detail of all the crimes Max was ordered to do.
From that pretty little celebrity in L.A., the poisoned man from Oklahoma, the researchers from Massachusetts, and all of those other victims in between.
Good thing he kept all those souvenirs. He will prove to them that he was just a pawn.
The pawn that was Maximilian Koenig Cornell.
**
A few days after, Rooftop of McGraw Byrne
Alex took another hit of nicotine from the cigarette between her fingers, standing by the edge of the fancy rooftop lounge. She exhaled a plume of smoke, the friction in her throat giving herself a temporary reprieve from her chaotic state of mind.
By the rest of the world's standards, it should have been a beautiful day. The skies above her was indigo, filled with streaks of orange from the setting sun. The peacefulness of it a far cry from the storm that was brewing inside her.
Success shouldn't feel this way. She was having a hard time basking in her recent victories.
Alex was just named junior partner this morning, after successfully taking Peter Koenig and Sadie McGraw down. Max Cornell, who turned out to be Koenig's nephew slash hitman, had confessed. He revealed who really was pulling the ropes, all in the form of well-kept call logs and text messages.
The backlash of it all reached McGraw Byrne's founding partner. The same form of proof exposed Sadie's hand on the Koenig class action suit, as well as her involvement in tipping off authorities to paint Marcus Sharpe as Aliana's murderer. The intent was to veer suspicion away from Koenig, making thousands of dollars along the way.
Alex had completely unraveled the conspiracy, with the help of Aislinn and Gigi. Beau, surprisingly, was more than participative. But it was obvious for everyone at the firm who led the crackdown, and it didn't take long for recognition to come to pass.
In everyone else's eyes, she emerged the winner.
And now, when all is said and done, there was nothing to escape to.
Alex can no longer disassociate herself from the sight of the gun barrel held by the ghost she tried to forget all these years.
The sound of applause, soured only by Martin Vanderweil's display of pain-in-the-ass arrogance, should have made her want to enjoy the fruits of her labor. Instead, here she was, wallowing with herself to be overcame by old bad habits.
What happened in the library was etched in her mind, clear as day. The memory of that close encounter with death, being brought up to life by the lack of distractions, made her shudder.
Every waking hour was consumed by the man with the haunting blue eyes that meant death. Those same eyes from the past that suffocated her for so long.
A decade spent running away from them, yet they still caught up with her.
She worked so hard not to remember, not to let it bring her down, for it not to be her end game. She's at the top of the fucking career ladder, yet why can't she still have a sense of freedom?
Everything just felt wrong. She felt out of place.
Lost in her frustrations, she didn't hear the whirring of the elevator and the approaching footsteps that followed.
"Thought I'd find you here," Gabe said, stopping inches away from her.
It took everything of her not to swivel and look at him, opting to curse at herself for how her body quickly relaxed by the softness of his voice.
The storm clouding her mind instantly dissipated, leaving her bare. Gabe's presence made the oceans within her stand still, as if awaiting to be stirred.
"Didn't want to be found," she mumbled, closing her lips on the still burning stick of nicotine. Alex struggled to keep her gaze steady at the slowly darkening skyline.
I know. Gabe wanted to say. He knew that finding her here, seeking out the comfort of isolation screamed her desire to be left alone. He had seen her internal turmoil, hiding behind the air of stoicism she projected for everyone else.
That's why he was never more determined to find her. He wanted, no, needed, to be there for her.
Gabe knew he'd been a dick to walk out from her that morning in L.A., right after he admitted what he felt for her.
But there was rarely an opportunity to make it right. Whenever there was, there was no getting through her. No matter how much he tried to reach out, to make her see that he regretted his actions that day, she wouldn't let him in.
He couldn't blame her.
Gabe told himself he'd give her time, to give her space. However, fate had other plans.
He almost lost her that night, and it was a wake up call. When he watched helplessly as Cornell aimed at her, something in him shifted. He's no longer stuck in a limbo questioning who Alex was for him, or why he constantly wanted to be near her, wanting to make everything right.
He was decided to run after her, to stay with her, no matter what. He was done chasing after dreams of the past.
Alex was his future.
"Can't get rid of me easily," he settled on that reply, leaning on the glass railing beside her.
"Really?" she quipped sardonically. "I honestly didn't take you to be the staying type."
That had to sting.
He knew he'd hurt her by leaving, so he deserved that. It wasn't enough to make his resolve waver.
"I am," he insisted. "It just takes me some time to find my footing."
She lifted a hand to him. "Don't go there, Gabe. Just don't - "
"I'm not walking away from you again, Alex," he professed.
She whirled to face him with a look of sullen resignation. "I know."
Deep down, she wanted him too. But not in the fucked-up state she was in. She needed to think, she needed to recover, she needed to get a grip on herself.
But she needed to do it alone.
"I can't deal with us now, it's just.." She sighed. "Everything else that's happened is too overwhelming."
Gabe deflated.
It was the first time he heard her admit defeat. He's gotten used to seeing her fighting every step of the way, that finding her in this state of hopelessness felt alien to him. His chest tightened, hating himself on taking part of what pushed her to breaking point.
"I need to take a step back from everything, Gabe," she said, almost begging. "That includes you."
"What do you mean?"
"Can I to take some time off?" she pleaded, wrapping herself in her own arms. "I have to hit pause for now."
"For how long, Alex?" Gabe's voice was strained. She just made it clear that he wasn't what she needed.
Still he hoped. So he held his breath.
Alex thought quietly for a few moments, before looking back at him in determination. He found a semblance of the Alex he knew.
"A couple of weeks," she answered with a tone of finality.
He didn't want to. But in his heart of hearts, he had to respect her decision. He understood that even the strongest needed to heal. Even the brave Alex Keating.
"I'll arrange it," he relented, closing his fists at his sides to stop himself from reaching out to her. "Anything else?"
She hesitated, biting her lower lip before she continued. "Actually, there is one more thing."
"What is it?" Gabe watched intently as she raised her head to look at him, her mouth curved into that familiar signature smirk that he'd grown to chase after.
"Will you wait for me?"
As per her usual modus operandi, Alex took his breath away by her unpredictability. Almost immediately, Gabe wrapped his arm around her to pull her close. He raised his free hand and let his knuckles brush against her cheek.
He smiled softly, a tad afraid that by holding her this close could break her. And yet, the effect she had on him couldn't be stopped from spilling out, as if it was what he wanted to say all along.
"I've waited my whole life for you, so what's a few more weeks?"
Alex beamed at him, relieved. "I knew you'll be up for the challenge."
"Because I care about you, Alex," he whispered.
"I care about you too."
Alex then dared to take it forward.
Before he had the chance to move away, she tiptoed and surprised him with a tender kiss on the cheek.
Gabe wasn't able to react as quickly, the contact catapulting his senses. Just as his mind plunged back to the ground, she was already walking away, the clicking of her black heels syncopating along with the beating drum inside his chest.
His sight followed her until she stood by herself in the employee elevator, her brown-eyed gaze melting him with earnest affection. As the doors shut closed, so did the heart of Gabriel Ricci.
It shut down in anticipation of her return.
**
Two months later
Mind hazy and craving for Chinese food, Gabe had asked the driver to take a quick detour.
He had just flown from Los Angeles, spending two weeks to assist on a big hotel chain M&A. He got out of LaGuardia at around 10pm, and now his jet lag and empty stomach were taking its toll on him.
The car stopped at the familiar block, and he got out of the vehicle, grabbing his suitcase. He walked the rest of the way, enjoying the craziness of New York City on a Friday night.
For a minute, it reminded him of her.
He heard rumors of her coming back, but HR had been heftily secretive on all things concerning her. With the firm fidgety over Vanderweil's recent harassment lawsuits, he erred on the safe side and didn't poke further.
It didn't take long for him to find Hoi On. Once inside, he greeted the servers in flawless Cantonese, striding straight to the counter.
As he gave his order, the kitchen crew brought out a bag of hunger-inducing takeout box. He was almost tempted to bargain for it instead of waiting for another 20 minutes. Until...
"Order complete for Alex!"
Gabe froze.
His senses were instantly filled by the familiar scent of coffee and vanilla and the echoing beat of heels hitting the floor.
There was no doubt about who was approaching the counter.
He found her standing beside him, the woman he'd missed every single day since he saw her last. The powerhouse junior partner with the easy smile and confident aura.
The woman whose return Gabe eagerly waited for.
"So," Alex began. "I take it tinsel town's fusion of cuisines can't match authentic Brooklyn takeout?" she teased, smiling at him in the same red dress she wore the first time she walked into his office.
He looked down over her - closely looking at the tiny changes in her features. Regardless, she looked more beautiful, taking note of the longer, loose tendrils of brunette hair framing her face.
"No," Gabe shook his head in amazement, his lips breaking into a lopsided grin. "Everything else couldn't compare."
She chuckled. The radiance of her laughter showed Gabe she was really back, and that she was finally ready.
"I bet they couldn't," she winked.
In an instant, Gabe's heart awoke from its slumber. It's as if it knew that this time, the wait was over.
The chase has come full circle.
Author's Notes: This may be the end of this series, but Alex & Gabe will return.
How did you find it? Let me see in your comments/reblogs! Thank you! 💖
Tag list: @adiehardfan @pixelnutrookie @starryjieun @latinagiraffe @sarcastic01lily @spookycolorpeanut @ophrookie @suitfer @thegreentwin @mkatschoicesblog @made-of-roses @lillijill @kachrisberry @weaving-in-words @peonierose @wanderingamongthewildflowers
@choicesficwriterscreations @lawsofattractionfanfiction
#laws of attraction#choices laws of attraction#choices loa#laws of attraction fanfiction#choices laws of attraction fanfiction#choices loa fanfiction#gabe ricci#gabe ricci x mc#fics of the week
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You, Not Appearing
Fandom/Topic: Unnamed Pedro Pascal characters that I have plucked from obscurity to do my bidding
Rating: Teen-ish?
Word Count: 1,053
Warnings: angst, unhappy ending, a few spicy memories
A/N: This fic is labeled as “I don’t even know what this is” in my Google docs and I stand by that assessment. Something in my brain connected the Fire Meets Gasoline music video with the Hope video (both links courtesy of @dornish-queen) and thought what if it was the same character in both videos. Un-beta’d but I agonized over it for a long time. Title is a play on You, Appearing by M83 that plays during the Hope video. Credit to gif owner. Happy Valentine’s Day?
It’s been seven days. He knows because he found a tube of her lipstick in his leather travel bag on the first day and he’s been using it to mark each day on the mirror in the tiny bathroom. If not for these Crimson Rose streaks, each day would be interchangeable. Wake up, pick up the phone, ring ring ring ring ring ring, put down the phone, look outside, open the door, (it’s housekeeping asking with increasing annoyance if they can please clean the room; it’s a family of five barreling down the corridor in a swirl of chaotic activity; it’s a bald man sweating through a cheap suit as he keeps his gaze firmly on the ground; it’s no one at all), close the door, repeat, repeat, repeat, make a mark on the mirror, drink until passing out.
He tries to fill his time with getting dressed up to varying degrees of outrageousness. If someone asked, he’d shrug and say what’s the point of having such glamorous clothes if you never wear them? If she asked, he’d say he’s trying on different personas for the next con, even though he’s not sure what (or when) (or if) the next con will be. Part of him hopes that when he opens the door, she’ll be standing there and she’ll say something like “what on earth are you wearing?” with an affectionate laugh as she glides into the room, instantly filling it with her bright smile and banishing all of the lonely empty corners. Each time he opens the door, he’s disappointed. And no one asks.
He’s rechecked the phone number what feels like a million times (he hasn’t counted because he doesn’t really want to know), but it just rings and rings until he gives up. He counted the rings on the first day, feeling sure that something must end them other than his replacing the receiver. He stopped counting at fifty and hasn’t counted again. Still, his palms are sweaty each time he presses the buttons and sliding them down his thighs has become a part of the ritual to try to calm his nerves as he tries to hold out for as many rings as possible (it only sort of works). He idly wonders if the motel will bill him even if the calls are never picked up. What he wouldn’t give to go to voicemail.
He never really thinks about it, what he did. Sometimes the hot brick pavement outside the motel check-in brings to mind another brick stained red, but he pushes it away with a terse it was self-defense. He pays no mind to the thoughts creeping around this explanation, pricking through it with sharp thorns called unarmed, thief, and murder. Instead he tries to think about those golden days of chasing her around the farmhouse, her laughter turning to moans of pleasure as he dragged his lips across her skin. In these memories, he knows they whispered all sorts of promises and adorations, but he can’t remember the words so it’s like a film reel with indistinct audio.
He doesn’t know how long to wait. After his confession and the fire, they peeled out of town as fast as they could, the cherry rose satchel safely tucked between them (he called it conspicuous but she said only if you don’t dress the part). She kissed his neck as they drove away: Clyde and his Bonnie, together until whatever end. Two days later, she raced back into the luxurious hotel room they had treated themselves to after going to get ice (oh the plans he had for those ice cubes against her hot skin), telling him in a panic that she thinks she was recognized. There was no calming her down; she started throwing things into her enormous silver weekender bag and he could only match her panicked energy and throw things into his brown leather travel bag too.
“Maybe we should split up.” She said as they pass a mile marker. He wishes he remembered which one.
“What?!” His breathing was ragged, panic rising up in his throat.
She flinched with the unexpected vehemence of his reaction. “I mean, just for a while. They’ll be looking for us to be together, right? If we’re not together, it’ll make it harder for them to find us.”
What was there to say? It made a certain sense; isn’t that what they always did in those heist films he loved as a kid? Split up until the heat was off and the diamonds (it was always diamonds) could be safely sold. But… “You said we’d never split up.”
She rolled her eyes, but tried to hide it. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
He didn’t say anything. He wishes now he had said something.
At the next suitably large town, she got on a bus after explaining the plan to him again. He watched her get on the bus (his wouldn’t leave for another 45 minutes) and thought it sounded like a math problem: if bus A is going to Dallas travelling at 60 mph and bus B is going to Indianapolis travelling at 65 mph, then when will they meet in Jacksonville?
She said he would get to the motel first and to use the agreed upon pseudonym (not Clyde Barrow, for Christsake you can’t use that one it’s too obvious). He did everything she said. Still, sometimes he racks his brain to remember what she said in case he forgot something.
He sits by the pool in his most outrageous outfit yet: a cardinal red suit with a tiger print shirt, his hair slicked back and glistening. It’s an alarm bell of an outfit with no one to hear it, least of all the person it’s intended for (is it for her? still?). He wanders around the motel, unsure of what he’s really looking for. Someone to notice him and remind him he exists? To recognize him and call the police? No one does.
He gave up smoking because she didn’t like the taste on his lips. He wonders if taking it up again will conjure her.
In the end, it is fourteen. As he is dragging the blood red lipstick across the mirrored surface, it snaps with the force of his realization.
He doesn’t have the satchel.
#my writing#fanfic#pedro pascal#fire meet gasoline#hope video by michael michael#what even is this#but I haven't written anything in a long time so I'll take inspiration where I can get it
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"Perfect! Now, you're going to Route 4 it looks like. There's nothing particularly dangerous there. A few trainers, but they should leave you alone if you say you don't have a Pokemon. Usually they'd want to do a Pokemon battle, but they obviously can't because you don't have one! The Pokemon there aren't too dangerous and should leave you alone if you steer clear. Some of them have spores that can paralyze you in place, or poison you, so be wary of that. But other than that? You're good! Also I'm glad Nurse Joy- she was the one at the Pokecenter- was able to give you supplies!" -HS anon
"Yyyyup. I saw the sign, but... eh. Seems like a pretty straight shot to the city, if a bit of a long path." Elliot sighs, walking with his hands rested behind his head. "There's really nobody here, it looks like. Maybe just a slow day?"
There's a rustling in the topiaries to his right, and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Elliot's instincts are telling him that he's about to be attacked, but that can't really be the truth, can it-!
An ear-splitting cry of dancing bells bellows out of the bush, and Elliot snaps to attention. He jumps back with practiced grace, scythe already in his hands, and then what looks like a four-foot tall plant-person barrels out of the brush at him. Triple-cannon looking things are affixed to the end of its arms in place of hands, and a cape billows in the wind, but the one thing on Elliot's mind is the irony of using a scythe as a weapon against what looks like an overglorified leaf bundle. Whatever this thing is, its eyes are glowing red and it looks pissed.
Unbidden, a grin slips into Elliot's expression. The absurdity of the situation doesn't dampen the adrenaline rushing through him at all.
The Roserade charges, dancing into a spin and slicing through the air with vines that seem to come out of the bouquets at the end of its arms. Elliot waits. And waits.
Distance in fights is incredibly important, he knows. And he doubts this... thing also knows that. So he'll wait. Scythes have deceptively short reach, but they also have high control over that reach. As long as he's stood just out of the bouquet Pokemon's reach, he's totally safe.
Well, mostly safe- he does get slapped a few times, the cuts and bruises stinging. This should be second nature, right? But he feels awkward, a bit. Almost like something is off; his muscle memory hasn't been tested all too much before, but it shouldn't be this shaky. Still, all he has to do is wait for the perfect moment..!
The whirlwind of vines stops for just a second, as the Roserade spins in place with the effort of executing all those attacks with no impact to bounce off of. Elliot's solid stance and slow movement backwards stops, as he bounces off of his back foot and cleaves the Pokemon right through the gut...
...leaving no mark, or wound. Even with the scythe all the way through and behind the Pokemon, even with his extended stance and the power he knows was behind that strike, there was no hole for the scythe's blade to go through. So how did it get through the Pokemon? There's a quiet, high-pitched tone humming through the air.
A pure-white, circular indicator that seems nearly two-dimensional fills up like a pie chart, hovering a few inches above the head of Elliot's scythe.
There is a blast of light that spirals down its handle, smashing into Elliot's hands and overtaking them. In only a moment, Elliot is blindingly bright. His body morphs, shifting in shape and muscle structure, lengthening hair and changing stance. He crumples a little bit, in intense discomfort, and then it all subsides.
A shockwave of air blasts off of Elliot's newly formed body. The grass around him is slightly scorched, and smoke trails wisp off of his back. Rather than wearing his normal hoodie and pants, he seems to be wearing some kind of dark-purple bodysuit. Most obvious is the fact that Elliot now seems to be a woman, physically, and still within range of the Roserade's now-?
Oh. The Roserade was blown back a solid few meters by the shockwave and blinded by the light, which is good for Elliot as he is now panicking. His scythe's radial indicator (bar? counter? timer?) is slowly lowering, the solid circle growing a noticeable spike of transparency.
And then he gets hit like a truck by the rapidly-recovered Roserade and blasted back into the basin of a fountain.
He's in a new body, with new (mildly concerning) clothes, with no knowledge of what the hell just happened, and a level of hurt that (by all means; he just got hit into a goddamn stone fountain) should be WAY higher than it is. But he's not that injured. His head hurts, but he seems to have no broken bones.
"G-blugbrghg-gotta-!" He has to focus. He is in the middle of a fight, and anything that just happened was more than likely just his Harm, so if anything this is some sort of power-boosting transformation. Especially considering he wasn't all too hurt.
So he gets up, using his scythe as a stick to lean on a bit while he gets his new bearings, and then jumps out of the fountain to face the rapidly-approaching Roserade. Rather than going for simply a slash to the chest, he chooses a different approach: he cleaves a piece of rock from the ground, slams his scythe's end into it, and then bats the rock as hard as he can at the raging Pokemon.
As hard as he can appears to be much harder than he could have done normally, considering that the follow through was more than he anticipated and the whip-like crack of the fist-sized rock finding it's target a good five seconds before the Pokemon could have expected it.
The Roserade goes skidding back and eventually falls flat on its back, angry glow fading from its eyes. Elliot, not expecting the speed and strength of his actions, also fell to the ground (though in this case, he fell forward. Painfully.)
He sat there for a good few minutes, chest, back, and everywhere else mildly aching, and then rolled over onto his side to check his backpack. It was mostly unharmed; a few of the Potions had cracked, but no liquid was leaking out.
"R-Right, I'm... gonna take." He's tired. "A quick break..." Tired enough to lie there just a bit longer. Not sleeping, not even napping, but just resting.
-=/ FFW▷▷ /=-
Elliot Aureli is in the middle of Route 4 in the Kalos region, and he is currently sitting upright and sorting through his backpack. The Roserade is gone, and he has treated his injuries. After the dial on his scythe ran out, his clothes were returned to normal. But his now-purple hair can attest that the same was not true of his body.
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dad
On Ao3.
Summary: Pip meets Alcuard in a different occasion.
Based on prompt.
They said, he just has to accompany the vampire girl, secure the area while she is sniffing around, looking for some clues in the woods near the city and then take her home. That what they said.
No one, not a fuckin person said that as soon as the day turns into night, vampires would begin to swarm out from the depths of the woods. A whole ass family was ready to play hide and seek with them. And somehow it was always he and Seras who had to hide.
It was his first goddamn mission here! They just got into the service of Hellsing! Sir Hellsing mentioned something about her other vampire having something to do, but in due time he will join the two of them.
Pip ordered his thoughts and turned his attention to the present.
He glanced over his shoulder.
He hasn't heard any noises from behind them for a long time, but he wouldn't have been able to tell how long they'd been hiding and running for their lives. At least they were able to send the signal for help, now they just had to hold out until someone arrived. Although, heavens knew how long that would be.
He stopped next to an oak tree and pulled Sera into cover. As he listened, he hugged her closer to make sure she was out of sight.
"Pip-"
"Sh."
The forest became quiet.
She winced and her face turned slightly red, not only from the hug, but from the smell of blood from the mans injured arm. His scent filled everything around her, she could feel it in her nose and mout,h as something seemed to begin to take control in her head. Her hunger awakened without warning, just as her master had warned her many times. If she does not take blood properly, not only she will be weakened, but over time her hunger will flare ups will be more forceful. She didn't even notice that she slowly licked her lips and leaned closer to the wound.
"Seras?" Pip stared at her. "What the hell are you doing?"
The vampire girl looked up at him. Hunger glinted in her red eyes.
"Seras…?"
The seconds slowly dragged themselves forward. Pip felt his heartbeat becoming faster and stronger, in his chest as he had to find a solution to the rapidly approaching problem. Could he stop the girl?
Fortunately, he didn't need to think about this for too long.
Seras forced her tongue back into place and shut her mouth swallowing. She calmed down, for now.
"I'm fine…" she couldn't lose herself right now. "I'm fine…"
Pip looked at her for a few moments then slowly nodded. They were fine. For now. They both got quite a few injuries. There was a burning pain in his side, and his arm where he was clawed. And Seras, well, she got a serious hit to the stomach, but amongst the two of them, the girl was able to regenerate herself.
"Why the fuck are those vampires here? And why there's so many of them? I thought it was just one, maybe. Not a whole damn family." Pip muttered nervously as he tried to figure out where their opponents might be.
"The master will be here soon," Seras' quiet whisper seemed almost like shouting in the silence.
"Much good will that do for us if we will be dead by then," Pip hissed in response.
"We won't-"
Wind rose among the trees and leaves fell not far away. The small rustle in the undergrowth was only perceivable to Seras. Her body tensed up between the soldier's arms.
"Down!" She dragged the man after her, just a moment before an arm pierced through the trunk, which they had been using as cover until now.
"Son of a-" Pip rolled on the ground and pushed himself up on his knees as fast as he could. He knew it very well that he was nearing the end of his ammunition, he only brought three grenades with him and he had already used two.
A laugh full of dark excitement shook the branches.
Pip turned the barrel of his gun towards the noise, but before he could pull the trigger, a young, childish voice spoke up right next to his ear.
"Got you."
He still had enough self-control to glance towards the voice.
She didn't look more than eight years old. Her long blonde hair slowly curled in the air, a mixture of blood and mud stained the edge of her floral dress.
"PIP!" Seras wanted to lunge towards him, but a blade pressed against her throat.
"Don’t be so hasty," the young man was far taller than her and appeared from almost nothing behind her. He hugged her with his long arm at his chest and squeezed it closer to himself. More leaves fell around them.
"Let me-" Seras tried to move, but her attacker held her too tight. She winced as she felt the blade slowly begin to make its way down her throat.
The kid grinned widely into Pip's face. Her teeth lined up like needle-sharp blades, and her two canines visibly lengthened. The mercenary's hand instinctively reached for the last grenade on his belt.
"Don't think I'm not taking you with me, you monster!"
Seras's eyes flashed red as she tried to break free. Fingers dug into her arms and she felt the bloodthirst from the figure behind her, but she couldn't take his eyes off the mercenary.
"Pip...don't... MASTER!"
Chill descended on the forest around them, even the wind quieted down. The vampire kid stopped and with her almost everything froze into stillness the woods. Even the mercenary felt that something had changed.
Something has arrived.
The shadows deepened around them, flow together, becoming a black river. An arm rose out of the darkness, holding an obsidian-colored gun.
Pip swore he saw a face in the depths of that shadow, and countless eyes. They were bright red and caught his own gaze. For a few moments he felt blood froze in his veins, and he knew for sure, he had no chance against a creature like that, no matter how many grenades he would have. After seconds which seemed like hours, the crimson eyes turned away from him.
And something growled in the shadows.
"You shouldn't have done that."
The gun fired and the bullet blew a hole in the vampire kid's head. Then another shot and another hit.
The mercenary looked at the body collapsing beside him. The warm blood splashed on his face. Not far from him, the void began to take shape. Rising, towering above him were now the stranger, whose body was covered by a red coat and his long black hair which slithered as if it had a mind of its own, casting a shadow on his face. Still, he could clearly make out the two pairs of eyes, glowing with rage.
"You two, leave."
A scream filled with anger and loss echoed amongst the trees, it was followed by the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps.
"Pip!"
Seras' voice shook him up from his dazed, and she pulled him into standing. His legs were still a little weak and almost buckled, but he knew full well, that he needed to shake off the shock.
"Come on!" She began to pull him forward, and he followed.
He heard the sound of gunshots behind them, then the bone shattering roar shook even his body. He didn't want to look back; he knew it was better not to look back. He didn't know how long they had run, but Seras might have sensed the distance they were safe.
"I think we're safe here." The vampire girl only let go of her arm when the thirst for blood finally abated, then she finally took a few deep breaths, even though she didn't really need it. She glanced back through the trees with her eyes glowing red.
Pip followed her gaze, but his human eyes saw only the thick forest.
Another scream. Maybe another vampire died.
“I don’t know who that is, but I’m glad he seems to be on our side, he’s fucking terrifying.” Pip lit a cigarette, he tried to get a grip of his trembling hands.
Seras glanced at the man. She dug around in her pockets and found a handkerchief extending it towards Pip with a clumsy, perhaps apologetic smile.
"Yeah, dad can be a little overprotective....”
Pip looked at the shadows, then he remembered the eyes that belonged to some demon rather than any ordinary human, or even vampire, and finally he glanced back to the girl in front of him.
“......That’s your DAD?!"
Seras blushed as she realized what she just said.
"Don't tell him, I called him that!"
Pips mind was still concentrated on the previous answer. He didn't have to look back again. There were enough painful screams mixed with a dark but contented laugh to know what's happening.
"Please, Pip ..."
"Wha '? Hm? Oh yeah, yeah, my mouth is closed. Uh, thank you." He took the handkerchief a little awkwardly and pressed it to his bleeding arm. The wound would have to be stitched up, but he was grateful even for that gesture. "Are you okay? You didn’t get hit too hard, are you?"
"No," the vampire girl shook her head. "The bigger wounds have already healed. And I think we'll be safe here for now." She turned her gaze towards the dark between the trees. "Master will finish them soon, and then we can go home."
Pip watched the girl quietly and slowly took a deep smoke from his cigarette. Now somehow, he saw Sera in a whole different light. He glanced down at the blood-soaked handkerchief.
Vampires.
Even now, he could hardly believe the fact that kid back there was really some supernatural being. And yet, if the help arrived even a minute later, he might no longer be alive. Although he had to realize that when they were hired, the first thing they were told that they will encounter extraordinary things.
He finally followed her gaze, but he could only imagine what horrors could be happening in the forest deep. Either way, he was sure he wasn't going to move an inch further from the girl.
He smiled slightly under his breath as he took a deep breath through his cigarette.
Good god, Pip Bernadotte. What have you got yourself into again?
#hellsing#hellsing fanfiction#alucard#alucard fanfiction#alucard hellsing#seras victoria#seras hellsing#pip hellsing#pip bernadotte#hellsing manga#hellsing ova#copper
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Turns out you can use the healing rig while hiding.
I've been having fun with Trials.
#iT REALLY JUST FILLED THE BARREL WITH BRIGHT RED SMOKE#hOW DID HE NOT SEE ME#outlast#outlast fanart#outlast trials#art#comic#red barrels#officer coyle#leland coyle
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the shape you make
Grouping: Reader x Johnny
Word Count: ~4.1k
Warnings/Themes: Halloweentown AU (again), body insecurity, slight allusions to speciesism, graphic smut, communication issues (as always), a very thirsty work friend
Summary: For both you and Johnny, there is something big holding you back from being intimate. At the yearly Harvest party, that something big becomes something known.
A/N: This fic is part of The Intimacy Anthology, and then Halloween came and ate it :) If you’re interested in the project and/or would like to see the works from the other talented artists, click the link!
“—I mean, we’re doing fine. I would say it’s perfect except for one thing.”
You frown down at the dragonling wriggling in your hands, partially in pity for him. Snickerdoodle is in for his first-ever check up and by the way he tries to burrow into the front pocket of your uniform, you can tell he’s uncomfortable. It’s likely that the coolant pills given to suppress fire during examinations are upsetting his stomach. You pat his rough belly.
The rest of your frown is dedicated to a predicament you face with your boyfriend.
You’ve been dating Johnny for three months. After being set up by two mutual friends who thought you’d be a good pair, you hit things off and decided to see where things would go. The issue was, while you’d had many a good conversation and even met his mother, you still hadn’t let Johnny get to know the real you. Which meant things between you felt too good to be true and you were preparing for an inevitable rebuff.
“What’s the problem again? He doesn’t want to go with you to the Harvest party?”
Your coworker Nautilanita ruffles her wings anxiously as she hunts for the correct syringe for dragon skin and a few treats to distract Snickerdoodle.
“No, we’re going to the Harvest party. The problem is that I want to go further with Johnny, but I don’t think I actually can.”
“Oh. That’s what I thought you said. But he’s literally perfect, so I figured I misheard you.”
You roll your eyes. Despite being pair-bonded to another lovely griffin for almost 13 mating cycles, something about Johnny turns your friend into putty.
“I think that’s the problem. He’s hot, he’s sweet, he’s funny—”
“Ehh. I don’t think I’ve heard a great joke from him yet.”
“He’s funny in that cute, corny way.”
“Fair.” Nautilanita approaches Snickerdoodle with a dried newt and distracts him just long enough to give him the first of his vaccinations. “So, what, you don’t like perfect guys?”
“It’s not like that. It’s more like he treats me like I’m perfect.”
“Okay, did you just come here to brag?”
The flat look on Nautilanita’s face is enough to startle a laugh out of you. You’re glad for the tiny distraction and allow some nervous energy to leave you.
“You know what I mean. There’s things he doesn’t know about me that I’m pretty sure could ruin us. I’m not the perfect person he thinks I am.”
“What does not perfect mean?”
Nautilanita hands you a needle and switches places with you, scooping up Snickerdoodle. You take up a new syringe to draw some blood from between his wings for the examination. With quick work, you watch the gold liquid fill the barrel of the syringe.
“It sounds dumb when I say it out loud,” you whine while taking the blood away to the chemistry machine. Nautilanita smiles softly at you.
“That probably means it is dumb. And that you don’t have to worry about it.”
“You’ve seen Johnny, though.”
“Yes. Of course I have,” Nautilanita sighs dreamily. If it were anyone else, you might get jealous.
“He’s athletic and super buff. He’s normal. And I...”
“Yeah, I’m gonna stop you there. This is dumb. Do you think Johnny is a shallow guy?”
“Of course I don’t. I know he isn’t.”
“Then do you really think he’s gonna just drop you because you’re not 'normal’? I still don’t even get what that means.”
“No, but—”
The machine beeps and Nautilanita hands Snickerdoodle back to you to collect the sample.
“But what?”
“But I what if he doesn’t want me? What if he can’t be attracted to me?”
“Have you and Johnny kissed?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“More than once?”
“Yes.”
“And has he ever initiated a kiss?”
“Sure, lots of times.”
“Then I think he finds you attractive.”
You grimace to yourself. It sounded so easy put that way though you weren’t sure if Nautilanita even understood your worry. Maybe sitting down at that Leprechaun-run cafe after work with Nautilanita would help make your predicament clear, but at the moment you felt too exhausted. In an ideal world, it would be just as easy as Nautilanita said.
“What do you think?”
Mark holds up two button down shirts to his front for Johnny to compare. One is a saturated red and the other is a muted periwinkle blue.
“Blue one, easy.”
“Thanks. I’d ask Yeri, but she’s gonna be working almost up until the Harvest party. You’re lucky.”
“I don’t know who you’re calling lucky. I put sweat and tears into my outfits because I pick them all myself.”
“That’s bull. That one with the turtleneck and chains two weeks ago? There’s no way that was all you.”
“What? Yes it was”
Johnny tries not to eye the Harvest outfit he has laying on the chair at the other end of his room. The one that he’d recruited you into helping him with, over the duration of several days.
“Hmm. Not even when you’re shopping? Like when you’re in the fitting room and kind of flirting a little bit? Not even then?”
“Didn’t know you were such a hoe, Mark.”
"I have layers,” is all he says with flushing cheeks.
He’s glad Mark didn’t notice he avoided the question because the truth is that he’s never had such a moment with you. He’d like to, though. He’d like to be able to take you shopping with him, like normal couples do. Maybe you’d manage to sneak into the fitting rooms and give him a stack of things you’d want to see him in. Maybe half the time he’d come out shirtless just to see your reaction. Maybe at the end he’d pull you into the fitting room with him after one too many appreciative glances from you. But he can’t.
You’ve actually never seen him shirtless. Despite the fact that his thoughts sometimes go that direction when at the gym. Despite the fact that all his friends, Mark included, seem to think he’s already long since seen you bare and bared himself for you.
“You okay?” Mark asks when the minutes have ticked by and the conversation has screeched to a halt.
“Yeah, yeah. Just thinking.”
“What about?”
“What if, just as a scenario, we hadn’t done anything other than kiss.”
Mark’s eyes widen in the middle of folding his shirts and though he tries to hide the reaction, Johnny catches it.
“You mean you and—”
“Yeah.”
“So, just a peck or...”
“No! It’s definitely gotten, uh, intense. But I haven’t ever taken off my clothes in front of her or anything.”
Mark tilts his head, eyes narrowed above Johnny’s head. “Because you don’t want to?”
“That’s the thing. I do. But I’m pretty sure I’m not her usual...type.”
“Have you gone through a catalogue of her past relationships and found her type?”
“No, but—”
“Has she said she doesn’t like certain things about you?”
“...No.”
“Then why do you think that?”
“Well—”
The chimes of an alarm on his phone interrupt his explanation. Johnny turns off the alarm and gets up to the bathroom. He leaves the door open, not worried about privacy in the company of his best friend. Over the sound of running water and the aerosol of shaving cream leaving its canister he continues.
“I don’t want to make things awkward for her.”
“I mean, if you want her to look at you that way, that’s important. Even if she does have a type.”
“Right,” Johnny mumbles while running his razor under the tap.
Mark comes to lean against the doorframe of the bathroom to hear better. Johnny’s lips purse at Mark’s reflection in the mirror. He feels torn.
“And if you’re wrong, then you can just move forward.”
“Right.”
Right?
This year, the Harvest party is being hosted at the mayor’s house instead of at a corporate venue. There are probably hundreds of guests on the property all milling about and giving you a calming sense of anonymity. Johnny texted you earlier that evening telling you where you could find him when you finally left the vet clinic and made it to the party.
A few friends stop you to make small talk and instead of telling them you have to go meet Johnny, you let them delay you. A nymph from work brings you to the large kitchen to eat some rare berries she brought. Another friend from work ushers you onto the main floor to spin you a few times while a song that you like plays.
When the song changes, you exchange goodbyes and stumble off from them. Unfortunately, you bump into Nautilanita, who you had also technically been avoiding.
“Look who it is,” Nautilanita‘s talons curve dangerously around the stem of a wine glass.
“Oh, hey.”
“Guess who I ran into half an hour ago.”
“Who?”
“Guess.”
“Johnny?”
“Mhm. Your boyfriend,” Nautilanita snaps. “Why was he asking me where you were? I had to lie and say you got held back at work.”
“You weren’t required to do that,” you point out. Nautilanita narrows slitted eyes at you.
“I’m guessing you haven’t sat down and talked with him yet.”
“I haven’t. I do plan to, though. I’m just...”
“Nervous?”
You nod and suddenly Nautilanita is grabbing your arm and pulling you over to a darker corner of the house. There’s a group of people huddled loosely near the basement door, light smoke wafting up from where their heads are craned down.
“What are we doing?”
“Getting you some extra courage.”
“Nautilanita,” you hiss before darting your heard around your surroundings. “Did you forget we have weekly drug tests at work?”
“I’m not getting you drugs. I’m getting you some courage. It’s legal, I think.”
You stand off from the group, confused, as Nautilanita chats with the lady in the middle of the huddle. A witch, based off the purple ring she wears. The witch reaches into her bag when Nautilanita does actually ask for courage by name. Nautilanita returns with a small bag of bright yellow orbs that flash welcomingly in the low lighting.
“Open.”
You open your mouth obediently and chew the little rubbery yellow ball until it bursts into your mouth. It tastes a bit like dish soap but you swallow it.
“How long does this last?”
“10 minutes.”
“You mean I only have 10 minutes to find him and tell him everything?”
“Well, 9 minutes and 55 seconds now.”
You push past Nautilanita to circle back through the crowd and climb the staircase to where Johnny said he’d be on the second floor. He’s not in the billiard room at the end of the hall, but someone there points you toward one fo the guest rooms. When you find him he’s sitting in an arm chair in a corner guest room, scrolling on his phone when you enter abruptly.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” he puts his phone down and makes his way over to you. “Why are you out of breath?”
“I, uh, ran up the stairs.”
“You ran up the stairs to see little ol’ me?”
Johnny’s smile is bright and genuine and suddenly you feel a rush of something. It must be the courage. You throw yourself into his waiting arms and press your face to his chest. He should know, you think. He deserves to know.
You’re about to pull away and confess to him, but then he’s lifting your chin with a finger. His smiles bleeds into his eyes and softens into something you think you could swim in. He leans down and catches your mouth in a kiss.
Instead of worrying about the courage running out, you focus on the kiss. With your eyes closed you can properly lose yourself in the feeling of the hard muscle under his soft sweater. The sweater he chose after frantic consultation with you.
Emboldened by the way you relax into him, Johnny pushes further into your space. His bangs tickle your face when he swivels his head and presses a fuller kiss to your lips. Warm hands creep a slow path up from the flare of your hips to the hem of your work shirt. His breath hitches a little in a puff against your cheek when you push up into him and kiss him harder. His hands come to anchor himself on your lower torso again. This time your movements have pulled your work shirt up to expose your stomach.
The drag of the skin of his fingers on your lower back has you yanking yourself back with darting eyes and a shaky smile. It pains you to ruin the momentum of the moment, but you know that if you don’t explain yourself before your clothes are supposed to come off, you don’t know how things will end. You’re not expecting to look up and find Johnny’s eyes filled with something that looks akin to fear.
“Shit—I’m sorry.” He rocks back on his heels and lets his gaze bounce around the corners of your face looking for a cue. “Should we talk about this?”
You think about the 10 minutes you have, and how much of it could possibly be left.
“Y-yeah.”
You gravitate towards the guest bed and he follows with a flop.
“I hope you know I don’t want to pressure you into anything,” he offers.
“I know you weren’t. It was just getting kinda heavy there for a second.”
“And you don’t want that to happen.”
“I want to make sure you still want to.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because...I haven’t been totally honest with you.”
Johnny can feel the prick of sweat at his hairline and across his shoulders. He kind of wishes you would just tell him you know what he’s hiding so he can begin to adjust. He knows it’s not what Mark would suggest, but he doesn’t want to lose you.
“I know humans say they like magical folk, but being friends with the magicals and being with them is really different.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“And even if they really are fine with us, they probably still would prefer to be with other humans.”
He nods, and then replays your words in his head. You said ‘us’.
“Maybe you wondered why it’s taken us so long to be physical”
“I have, honestly. But that doesn’t mean you should rush to do that.”
“Well, it’s not because I really needed more time. It’s because I didn’t have the courage to before. I didn’t want you to see me like a monster from those old books.”
“Wait, are you saying you’re—”
Before he can finish his sentence, you reach for the buttons of your work shirt and undo them as quickly as you can with shaking fingers and courage long since run out. As the shirt loses its structure and falls away, he can see more of your skin than he ever has before.
Scattered in patches across your abdomen, breasts, and even your back are teal scales that reflect his shocked expression back at him in dozens of little frames with the clarity of a polished gem.
“I’m actually not human. I come from a long line of water sprites.”
The tears of shame in your eyes, another first sight for him, are the same iridescent teal and leave subtle crystalline streaks on their way down your cheeks.
He doesn’t mean to, but he can’t find actual words, and the laugh seems to jump from his throat. Low bubbling first it then grows as the seconds pass by. You look up from the bedspread because you can’t believe your ears. This isn’t at all how you imagined he’d react. He holds up a hand. He knows how bad the reaction is but he can’t help it.
When the laughter begins to subside a moment later, he attends to his own shirt. He hikes the material up over his head and reveals smooth skin. You’re not sure what’s going on at first, but then he removes the silver earrings he wears every day and fur begins to sprout from his torso, his forearms, around his face. His canines and nails lengthen before your eyes to sharp points. And suddenly you understand.
“I bought these from a witch who specializes in werewolf magic the day before our first date,” he reaches over and places the small silver hoops into the palm of your hand.
You look down at the jewelry and then back up at your boyfriend’s face. You’re surprised to see that he looks different, though not because of the sudden lycanthropic transformation. There’s a lightness in his eyes and length in his spine that makes you realize just how much his secret was weighing on him.
No words leave your mouth as you crawl into his space. A small smile graces his lips and he lays on his back to make room for you. You kiss him once more and you’re shocked at how different it feels to do so without a secret smothering everything. As you part his lips, Johnny lays his hands on your skin gently. When you don’t withdraw, he lets his hands wander.
His palms skim over the cold patches of scales like he’s trying to warm them. He likes the juxtaposition of the warmth from your skin and the cool brilliance of your scales. He likes the way they pattern on you, lining your spine and sloping over your roundnesses. He kiss parts he can reach on your shoulder and when you stop to let him move more, his kisses follow the trail below your collarbone and between your breasts. When he tentatively swipes his tongue over them, you sigh and sink more fully into his lap.
You pull at the thick hair hear the nape of his neck and redirect him back to your mouth. It doesn’t escape you that your bare torsos are constantly brushing. Your nipples harden when he hugs you to him and shivers at the cool patches meeting his skin.
“Are we going to?”
“Do you want to,” his breath puffs against the side of your jaw.
“Please.”
The press of your rocking hips against his reminds him of just how much clothing there’s still left to remove and how much skin there still is to marvel at. After switching positions, he has you on your back and makes a start on removing your pants. He makes quick work of them by trailing a claw under the stubborn button. When the slacks are gone, he looks over the splashes of blue on the inside of your right thigh, spilling over the front of both your shins, wrapping around your left ankle.
He starts there, with a simple kiss to the sparkle on your ankle and then continues. Like skipping a stone through cerulean waters, he kisses over your shins and makes his leisurely way over the hill of your knee. His tongue makes an appearance at your right thigh, where you had been praying for it. He lingers there until he’s certain the area is no longer untouched. There’s an urge to mark up the other thigh as well so there’s some symmetry. He follows the urge with your hand fisting in the thick strands of his hair the whole time.
“Johnny,” you groan when he takes too long trying to mirror the pattern of your scales with small nips to your skin. “When I asked if we were going to have sex, I was asking about today.”
“Sure, I’ve got you.”
He pats your thigh in a placating gesture, and then slides your underwear off at an obnoxiously slow pace with a shit-eating grin. You try your hardest to level a glare at him, but you break eye contact to gasp when he slides a gentle finger between your folds with no prior mention. You briefly consider just letting him continue, but you’re chasing a very specific sensation.
You rake your nails up the part of his back that you can reach, parting some of the fur there. The shiver that wracks through his whole back has you biting your lip in an attempt to stifle laughter. But it also has him shifting so he can hover over you, his hips occupying the place his shoulders once did. While he balances his weight on his knees and one hand, he uses the other hand to get just free enough from his pants.
He replaces his hand when the button, zipper, and the waist of his pants and underwear bunch around his lower thighs. You reach down before he can do anything else and see what he’s working with. Johnny releases a shaky breath while you feel him up, trace the trail of hair that run from his stomach to his groin. Your other hand runs up his arm in an idle fashion. It’s unintentional but, still, the feeling of your nails running over his skin feels like a live current, even through the fur.
The concentration he exhibits is clear as his head lolls forward. You stop your exploration and nudge him into action with a squeeze of your thighs. He still leans down to plant a kiss on your lips before hooking one hand under your back and around a thigh and shifting so you’re seated in his lap once more. You lower yourself onto him fully and begin rocking. You had been ready to take him early on but you’re wet enough to surprise him. He fights the instinct to pitch up into the wet heat until he’s sure you won’t mind.
When you start to get a bit frustrated with the angle, you push him back and brace yourself on either side of his chest. He lets out a long moan as you ride him, fangs glinting when he throws his head back. His hands come to pull you down onto him more firmly. He doesn’t realize that the prick of his claws on the swatch of scales that adorn your hip spurs you on as well. Each downward snap of your hips he meets halfway until he can feel the tell-tale signs of his orgasm coming. He’s not expecting you to reach down and brush a fingertip against the tip of one of his fangs. Carefully so you don’t cut yourself while you continue to bounce against him, you brush your finger across his lips. He’s not sure why, but it sets him over the edge and he spills into you.
You watch the way his face contorts with the pleasure and ache to join him. Grabbing one of clawed hands, you bring it to the apex of your thighs and he quickly guesses your need. He does his best to rub at your clit while the edges of orgasm fade away from his peripheral vision. It’s just slick enough to get you there, and you finish soon after his fog lifts.
The first thing you do is collapse onto him as you recover. Johnny tries to take deep breaths that you can match and eventually the two of you are letting out twin exhales. When you’re able to, you lift yourself just enough to kiss him again. This time it’s one soft singularity.
He sighs against your lips, and when he pulls back there’s a bemused smile on his face.
“I can’t believe you thought I was human.”
“Yeah,” you close your eyes. “I don’t know how we managed to fool each other for so long.”
“I was actually shaving five times a day since the first date.”
The thought makes you smile when you think back on all the times he would go to the bathroom and come back with a pink face.
“Now I’m sure you can guess why I never washed dishes at your place.”
“Would you get more scales,” he asks while brushing his thumb over the apple of your cheek.
“Close. My fingers would turn blue and web.” You wiggle them for effect.
“You know what? I don’t even think either of us actually said we were human. I guess we just assumed.”
You nod and wonder how things would have been if you came out earlier. The idea of surprising a Johnny that thought you were human on the 2nd date with webbed fingers makes you break your composure. He must follow your train of thought because he begins laughing too, shaking the two of you with the force. When you quiet down again, there’s a heavy calm settled in your ribcage. You suppose this is what courage can bring. Johnny rubs your back as you start to nod off. The last thought you have is that you’ll have to remember thank Nautilanita.
#nct fanfic#nct smut#nct scenarios#nct imagines#johnny scenarios#johnny fanfic#johnny imagines#johnny seo scenarios#johnny seo imagines#johnny seo fanfic
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Tyler Whitman
TW: Guns, Death
Reaping was a good job. Ending the suffering of the dying, escorting their vulnerable souls to a new life--it was nice. It was easy to view it in a positive light. The actual act of taking the soul, though, that was something Tyler hadn’t gotten used to. It was the sight of it, mostly. It wasn’t messy or violent by any means, but seeing his hand phase through someone’s chest so he could pluck the soul from their body? It was just strange, and it was something he could definitely do without. Typically though, if he was lucky, his client would already be dead by the time he got there, and it'd be resting outside the body for easy picking.
Unfortunately this time he’d find no such luck. And in the ungodly hours of this Wednesday morning he was wrist deep in metaphysical energy in the middle of an ice cold hospice room.
It was over quickly enough though, and soon he was on his way out, invisible to the nurse who entered just as he’d slipped out into the hallway. The door opened on its own, and Tyler stepped out into the cold morning air of the hospital parking lot. The streetlights overhead were dim, and didn’t offer enough light to hide the faint glow of the soul Tyler cradled in his hands--everything his client once was, now just a small, swirling little orb of dull red light.
Tyler had never been able to grasp what made any soul glow the way it did; it was something to do with energy, something about the life it’d led. A lot of talk about guilt and clarity and light that he'd never really understood. This one was dull though, clouded with dark maroon patches that spun and twisted around the bright red that tried to shine through beneath it. He didn’t know what that meant specifically about the woman he pulled it from or the life she had led, but Life had explained it well enough that he at least knew it wasn’t a black and white binary of “good and bad.” This soul was just old, and complex, and in desperate need of cleansing. It wasn’t his place to judge, his job was just to deliver her safely.
He was still watching the colors swim when the smell of hickory smoke filled the air, thick and rich and wholly unnatural in the middle of a medical complex. He looked up to see the smoke clouding the streetlights above him, and before long he could feel the heat of it’s flame against the back of his neck. He spun around on his heel, drawing his gun from his hip and taking steady aim for the plume of hellfire burning only a few feet in front of him.
Tyler had never met a demon before, but as the flames eventually died down to a simmer, it wasn’t hard to recognize the man standing in the ashes for what he was.
Fire licked at the heels of heavy, muddy work boots as he stepped out of the rising pillar of smoke. Golden eyes almost seemed to glow in the low morning light as they traced a line from the pistol in Tyler’s hand, down to the soul held protectively at his side, and finally back up to meet the unwavering glare of the reaper himself. The demon smiled wide, plucking his cigarette from his teeth before breaking the silence with a low whistle.
“Well shit, you were ready for me, now weren’t you?” He brought his cigarette up to his lips, taking a final, slow drag before he tossed it aside all together. “Here I was thinking I was doing a good job sneaking up on you.”
Tyler didn’t waver. He didn’t move. He kept his aim true, and at his side his grip tightened securely around his client’s fragile soul.
“It’s a joke.” The demon continued, stepping aside to motion to the still-smoldering circle of broken pavement and ash behind him. “See I came in real loud with the fire and the smoke and--”
“What do you want?” Tyler pushed his weapon forward, frustration mingling with the tremor in his voice. He held his gaze steady.
The demon blinked, staring right back at Tyler for a few quiet moments. “I’m Clay.” He offered, “Clayton, I guess. If you’re wanting to be professional about it, but nobody really calls me--”
“What do you want!” Tyler pushed his pistol forward again and cocked the hammer back, his other hand tightened once more, a white knuckle grip straining against the fragile mass of energy.
Clayton smiled again. He motioned to Tyler’s left hand with a subtle nod, “Careful, there.”
Tyler balked at the motion, and fury rose in his chest as the demon refused to answer him. He spared a quick glance away from him, down to the soul in his hand, before he noticed the way it was straining and twisting frantically against the force of his grip. He kept his gun aimed for Clay, but he turned his attention to the soul instead as he loosened his grip and drew it closer to his chest.
“God, what...” He turned the soul over gently in his hand, searching for any splintering or damage he might have done. It looked okay for the most part, but it was spinning faster now, dizzy and scared and struggling to right itself. “What do you--no.” He held a finger up to Clayton before he could open his mouth. “I know what you want. Don’t talk. I know exactly why you’re here, I just…”
He trailed off, staring at the soul as its frantic twisting colors returned to a gentle, slow spiral. There was a barely visible crack along it’s surface that he could see now, and some kind of strange, irregular flashing branching out from it, just below the surface. He frowned and ran his thumb over the damage before exhaling sharply. He turned his attention back to Clay, who had leaned in to watch everything with an infuriating, self-satisfied smile.
“How long you been doing this, kid?”
“Seventy years.” Tyler answered.
“Shit, seventy years!” He almost laughed, “That ain’t nothing. You ever lost a soul before?”
Tyler’s pistol pushed closer again, the barrel was almost pressed against Clay’s forehead now. He looked more amused than threatened, as if he was considering raising a hand to ease the gun off to the side. Instead Clay just raised his hands slowly and took a step back.
“Easy, now, I’m not gonna take it from you. I’m asking. I don’t think I could take you in a fight.”
Tyler scoffed and rolled his eyes, clutching the soul closer to the fabric of his shirt. “Fuck off.”
“Hey, I mean it! Not much of a point in trying when you could just.” He made a motion like he was reaching into his own chest and yanking something out with a closed fist. Tyler frowned at the suggestion, but he lowered his weapon just a fraction of an inch.
“So you think I’m going to give it to you?”
“I want it. I think you should.”
“And that’s it? That’s all you’ve got? You think I’m going to compromise my job, break the fundamental laws of life and death--”
Clay dropped his head back and rolled his eyes. “Damn it kid it ain’t that big of a deal, loosen up! You been doing this for seventy years now and you’re telling me you ain’t ever traded off a single soul?”
“This is a person.” Tyler insisted.
“Yeah it was, and she was a piece of shit.”
“She gets another chance!”
“Do you even know what she did?”
“It doesn’t matter!” He stepped closer, raising his aim again and stopping just short of placing the barrel against Clay’s forehead. “It doesn’t matter who she was, or what she did, or how many times you fucking ask me; she gets another chance!”
Clay opened his mouth to interrupt, but Tyler desperately shook the gun in his face, his blood boiling at the sight of Clay not even bothering to hide his amusement. “You’re not getting this soul,” Tyler snarled. “You can show up to bug me every time she dies for fifty more lifetimes, and the answer will be the same. It’s coming with me, it’s going to be cleansed, and renewed, and put back out into the world, and there’s nothing you can do to stop that. Do you hear me?”
Clay blinked slowly, entertained, but thoroughly unimpressed. After a moment he conceded with a shrug and stepped away. He pulled a cigarette from his shirt pocket and brought his hand up to block the wind as he brought it to his lips. Hickory smoke started to fill the air again.
“Give it fifty more years. You’ll change your tune.” Hellfire rose up from behind him, reaching out to embrace him again, and he stepped backwards to meet it halfway. The flames climbed higher, and with them rose that unearthly thick smoke that stung at Tyler’s eyes and choked the air.
“I’ll be around, kid.” Clay called out before the flames finally swallowed him. The fire roared, impossibly tall and impossibly bright before it finally reached its peak and fell. The flames spread low across the pavement before they finally suffocated and died, and Clay was gone, leaving behind only ash and burning embers.
Tyler lowered his gun, finally. He could feel the warmth of the soul against his chest, now. It was still struggling, still sending those flickering bursts of light out from the fracture he’d caused. He sighed, and holstered his gun so that he could smooth a comforting hand over its surface.
“Come on,” He said softly, “Let’s get you somewhere safe.”
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I managed to get two chapters edited tonight, so here is Chapter 4. Things are heating for Kagome and she begins to discover who she really is. Meanwhile, the Northern Kingdom is making plans.
I want to thank y’all again for your love and support!
@keichanz @neutronstarchild
Inuyasha sighed as he set his feet to the carpeted floor. The dreams were becoming more and more intense, as if the blue eyed woman was in danger, wherever she was at. It made for an uneasy night, filled with tossing and turning. His inner demon clawing at him to protect her. The problem was he didn’t know where she was at and he couldn’t just go run off and look, especially now that Naraku was increasing his violence at their borders.
Rubbing his face in frustration, he strolled into his bathing chambers and grabbed the wash rag, as he felt a large aura approach from the west. Sesshomaru must be arriving soon, the asshole always liked to make an entrance. Knowing his father would want all of them together for breakfast, he hurried to get changed into something more appropriate. Grabbing a red button down tunic, he was just leaving his bedroom, when he bumped into Miroku in the hall.
“Monk.” Inuyasha nodded his direction.
“Good morning, friend. You’re up earlier than usual.” Miroku greeted him cheerfully.
“Couldn’t sleep well, besides the asshole is arriving soon. You know how Father is about family time.”
Laughing, Miroku only nodded as they strolled down the hall towards the dining area. Sango, Izayoi and Ayame were already seated at the table, talking amongst each other, as Toga and Koga stood near the opposite doorway. Giving everyone a short hello, Inuyasha sat in his usual spot, to the left of his mother and rubbed his eyes tiredly.
“Dear, did you not sleep well?” Izayoi asked, a concerned look crossing her features.
“Nah, weird dreams, tossed and turned a lot.”
“If you don’t feel up to it today, maybe you should stay home and relax today. I’m sure with your brother arriving soon, we will discussing upcoming events in the meeting room anyways.”
Nodding again, he turned towards his plate. Peaches were always his favorite, the sweetness of the spring along with the beginning season. Grabbing one from the clay bowl in front of him, he heard foot steps approaching from the hallway.
“Sesshomaru! You made it!” Toga boomed, causing Inuyasha to wince, his ears flattening just a little bit, his head still pounding.
“Yes, Father. Your letter was urgent, Kagura and Rin, come say hello.” Sesshomaru gestured to the group behind him, Rin squealing in her bright orange dress, as she ran to give her grandfather a hug. Laughing at the sweet sight, a very pregnant Kagura waddled into the dining area as gracefully as a seven month pregnant woman could. “Are those peaches?” She mused, giving Inuyasha a mischievous wink.
Chucking at her antics, he tossed his favorite sister-in-law a ripe peach before taking a bite of his own. Nodding a hello at his brother, Inuyasha watched as Sesshomaru carefully helped his wife into the seat before taking his own. A smiling Rin, being carried by Toga on his shoulders, came to sit at the front of the table.
“Father, she must be able to sit at a table normally, she is too big for your shoulders now.” Sesshomaru said, disapprovingly.
Grabbing the child, Toga sighed and rolled his eyes at his oldest. He always has had a stick up his ass. Setting the giggling girl next to Inuaysha, who gave her his half eaten peach and winked at her, just as her own mother did to him. Watching the scene unfold before her, Izayoi smiled at her family, before announcing everyone to dig in.
Breakfast was the normal affair, only one slap this time from Sango to an embarrassed Miroku. Kagura and Ayame chatted about babies, while Inuaysha, Koga and Sesshomaru glared at each other most the time. Sighing to himself, Toga beckoned the house nanny to take Rin to the gardens to play. As the child said her goodbyes to everyone, Toga decided it was time to get to business. In the meeting room, a long wooden table sat, surrounded by chairs. It was when everyone took their seats, they began.
“Naraku is spanning an attack soon.” Toga stated, concern in voice. “He was seen in our borders just two days ago. It is time to force our hand.”
“Are you sure?” A too quiet Kagura asked, absentmindedly rubbing her belly. Sesshomaru covered her hand with his own, before turning towards the King, “If you are certain, we need to protect the borders. There are innocent people, many refugees from the fall of the Eastern Kingdom.”
Surprised by his care towards his subjects, Inuyasha stood to walk over to map hanging along the wall. Hung between bookshelves that wrapped the room, he took a red pin and marked the wildflower meadow, his heart giving a painful thump as he knew it was the same area as he saw the unknown woman. “It was here, that I smelt his men, graveyard and death. The forest burned around the area Miroku, Sango and I were camped at.”
“It was maybe half a mile from the eastern border.” Sango agreed, coming next to stand to Inuyasha, pointing at the border line on the map. “That is a long way from the castle that Naraku resides in at the moment, so they must either be looking for something or taking hostages. We know of the horse hanyou in that area, with the village, but didn’t have time to look closer or check on him.”
Nodding his head, “We know that when he killed the king and queen, he was absorbing their powers. I sent a scout out along with the page boy to scout the area of the fire. He came back with news of a fox family burned to death.”
Gasps filled the silent room, Koga standing angrily, fists clenching, “So, now he’s after demons too? What is it he is looking for exactly?”
“I don’t think it’s a something, it’s a someone.” Izayoi added quietly.
Eyes turned abruptly toward, waiting for an explanation. Toga sighed, before gesturing everyone to sit again. If his wife’s suspicions were correct, and she was hardly ever wrong, it was her, he was going come after. “Everyone remembers what happened that night, over twenty years ago, correct?” Seeing their nods, meeting Inuaysha’s gaze, “We have reason to believe he is after the lost princess. It was rumored that she would grow the be extremely powerful, she also was to be the one to bring peace again across the kingdoms, uniting us in more ways than one. No one ever found any clue that she survived or died that night and I believe Naraku is searching for her. He is trying to claim as much power as he can until he does find her, so he can destroy her as well.”
Murmuring to themselves, Miroku stood, “If she is still alive, she wouldn’t be much younger than Prince Inuaysha and I now. How has she been able to keep herself hidden all this time? Fairy powers are set to grow as the person gets older, their wings growing in time with powers. She must have some type of concealment charm, making it that much harder to find her.”
“I agree Miroku,” Toga stated, “That is why I haven’t been able to locate her. To be honest, the last time we saw her, she was a babe, I don’t know what she would look like with or without a concealment. The only way to find her would be other mythical creatures to identify her. Most have been hiding in the forest for safety. They don’t really talk to anyone, or venture out to the villages.”
“She would still have blue eyes.” A quiet rumble came from across the room, where Inuaysha had remained seated. Raising his eyes quickly, he caught his father’s smirk and blushed a little.
“Either way, whether Naraku is after her or not, we still need some kind of plan for when he does cross our borders again.” Koga spoke, still angry about the fox family. His wolves could be next.
“I agree. What did you have in mind Father?” Sesshomaru asked, looking to his father.
“Here’s the plan….” Toga smirked widely, everyone coming closer to see what he had in mind.
Izayoi sighed, knowing her husband’s wild antics were only the just beginning.
Kagome and Shippo were just beginning their walk through the forest that day, having felt better this morning about traveling so much in such a short time. As they walked, she kept a watchful eye on their surroundings, occasionally seeing other creatures flitter about. A while ago, she saw two unicorn, white and pure, with long, beautiful manes, grazing about near a stream. She watched as small butterflies flittered through the air near a few patches of wildflowers, reminding her of home.
At one point, she could’ve swore she saw a pointed green hat, hiding in a bush along the worn pathway. Smiling to herself, she tuned in to listen to whatever story Shippo was wilding telling her, walking a few spaces ahead. Unknown to her, a man with a chilling smile, followed closely behind.
“And theeeennnn, this old man, who looked like a ghost, but also a monkey, rose outta a pickle barrel, thanking the group for saving him! He was the monkey god! His followers, the three monkey sprites, were so embarrassed about leaving the sacred rock in the forest, while they scoured for nuts and….” Shippo waved his hands about, when a snap of branches caused them to stop abruptly.
Grabbing Shippo and putting him on her right shoulder, Kagome turned around just in time to see a small tan pouch fly through the air, heading straight at them. As soon as it landed, a foot or so in front of her, smoke began to bellow out about, making Kagome’s eye water instantly. “Shippo, run!” She screamed loudly.
Scurrying up a tree as fast as his little paws could, Shippo watched as Kagome fell to her knees, eyes shut tight, as her head hit the grassy path below. Unsure of what to do, Shippo backed into the tree branches, hiding from sight. Looking to his right, he saw the two unicorn they had seen previously, watching from afar. A small flittering creature stood on the female’s head. Looking back down to Kagome, he watched as a short, fat man with a covering across his face, lift her lifeless body over his shoulders and began to take back here they direction they came from. Jumping from the branch, Shippo took off towards the direction of the stream, tears beginning to fall down his face.
Kagome wasn’t sure what was going on. She couldn’t move her body. She was aware of everything around her, but couldn’t speak or try to run away from this man. I refuse to be taken she thought angrily, her temper rising.
“You cannot escape Mukotsu’s potion.” The man spoke gleefully. “I will make you my bride this very evening.” A small abandoned hut came into her sight and he carried her inside, bolting the door behind him.
So his name is Mukotsu, similar to Bankotsu. I wonder if he is with Naraku’s men. Wait, did he say bride?! No way, that’s disgusting! Kagome began to seethe, slowly moving her fingers trying to get some type of motion. The man, Mukotsu, set her on her stomach and laid a white, almost yellowed, veil upon her head. He turned and dug through his bag, not catching Kagome struggle to move her hands.
“You are very beautiful, your eyes are a color I have never seen before. Bankotsu didn’t tell me you were this pretty, and a virgin, no doubt. I think I will keep you to myself for a few days before taking you to Naraku.” Mukotsu began to laugh, grabbing a candle to light. “But first, we shall perform the wedding ceremony, then I will take you. Do not worry,” He said, grabbing her chin, noticing the fear in her eyes, “I will be gentle. I am not my brother. You will be happy with me.”
What is up with these men and their long monologues and trying to own me? Kagome thought dryly, squeezing her fists, getting the feeling back in her hands. As Mukotsu busied himself with whatever it was he was doing, Kagome shut her eyes and took a deep breath. Kaede’s words came across her mind, “Close your eyes. Breath in and out. I want you to look into your heart and feel the tug on your soul, one that reaches down within you. That is your power.” As she began to tug on the pull, she could feel her skin growing hotter, like an internal flame expanding around her.
Opening her eyes, she saw the man move back with wide eyes and a glowing, pink vibrant barrier surrounding her. Smiling to herself, she laid there, making her barrier as strong as she could, watching the now silent man, as hoof steps came barreling toward the hut. The man, now terrified, cowered in the corner as Shippo burst though the door, riding atop a female unicorn, with what looked like a tiny woman with wings flying next to him.
No one said a word as another unicorn, slightly bigger than the female, trotted up behind the three and lowered his horn towards Mukotsu. “How can this be? You aren’t supposed to be able to break through my poison barrier?” Before he could finish answering his own question, the large golden horn stuck through Mukotsu’s gut, drawing the life from his body. Kagome watched with wide eyes, but wasn’t frightened. These animals were good souls and had just saved her. The male withdrew his horn, picked up the now dead man by his collar and drug the lifeless body outside. Where, she couldn’t say, but she never saw the man again.
“‘Gome! Are you okay?” Shippo asked, jumping off his unicorn’s back, walking slowly toward Kagome’s barrier.
“Child, you can let your it down, it is okay. We will not harm you.” A soft, gentle voice came from above her. The little winged woman was flying right near her head, outside the barrier. Closing her eyes again, Kagome wasn’t sure exactly how to let the barrier down, hell, she wasn’t sure exactly how she did it in the first place. Taking a deep breath, she pulled the barrier inside of her, exhaling loudly, as Shippo rushed to hug her. As more feeling in her neck returned, she turned her head into Shippo’s body and smiled.
“Young one, she’s been poisoned,” the tiny woman told Shippo, “We need to get some water. Althea here has healing powers in her tears. Argus will take you the stream, hurry back.” The flying woman instructed and he crawled atop the male unicorn and hung on tight, one hand carrying a bottle.
Althea, she guessed, lowered her body near Kagome, and began to sniffle around her ears, making Kagome giggle to herself. The woman set herself down on the floor in sight of Kagome’s vision and began to speak, “You are her, the lost one. We watched you as you began your journey this morning, following you along the way to make sure you were safe. Do not worry my child, whenever your friend returns, we will help you drink the healing tears to rid your body the rest of the poison. You can already begin to move, can’t you?”
Nodding, the little woman laughed, clapping her hands together, “You have marvelous healing powers inside of you, so his poison wouldn’t have lasted long anyways, but you were still strong enough for a barrier. You are more powerful than you realize.”
“Shippo….doesn’t…..know.” Kagome managed to ground out, her voice hoarse.
“Shhh child, we figured. We only allowed him to see us, once we realized you were in danger. You were very brave to send him away when you did. He only knows of us, but we will see to it he promises to keep our secret. You can see that he has a good soul.”
Kagome nodded, swallowing as best she could, as Shippo and Argus? she thought, came back into the hut. Shippo rushed over with the bottle and the little woman instructed him to hold the bottle near Althea’s eye. Three tears fell into the bottle, and Shippo helped lift it to Kagome’s lips to help her drink. Within seconds, Kagome smiled, She felt so much better already and could stretch! Slowly sitting up, she looked at Althea and nodded her thanks. In return, Althea, laid her head in Kagome’s lap. “What’s your name?” Kagome asked the little woman.
“Calliope. You must be Kagome Aureila.” Her voice becoming more excited.
Laughing softly, “I think you’re the first person to say my middle name so excitedly.”
“It is a beautiful name, your Mother Kaede knew of your beauty. It means golden one, which I feel is befitting for you.”
Blushing a little bit, Kagome played with Althea’s mane, as Shippo sat quietly beside her. Argus stood at the doorway, facing out, as if watching the area around him. “Are you a fairy?” Shippo asked, almost silently, his eyes betraying his awe.
“Yes, young one.” Calliope laughed, almost like bells. “We allowed you to see us to help your friend here. She is special.”
“She is! She’s my friend. My name is Shippo!” He told her excitedly.
Laughing together, Kagome turned towards Calliope. “We must be going soon, we need to get to the castle, but I am so incredibly thankful you saved me. That man, he was one of Naraku’s men. I didn’t know he was following me.” She admitted sheepishly.
“Kagome, just like the gnomes told us, we are here to protect you and help you. If you should ever need, call on us. You need some rest, today has been an eventful day for all of us. It is near sundown already. We will stay with you until you set out again tomorrow.”
Smiling at her, Kagome grabbed her knapsack, knowing Shippo probably grabbed it earlier, and began to get ready for the nightfall. Sometime later, as they lay on the worn out futon, Kagome held Shippo tight against her, gazing into the eyes of Althea, before shutting them completely, falling into a deep sleep.
“It is her.” Calliope whispered, stroking Argus’ ear at the doorway. “I just hope she knows what awaits her. We must help her in every way we can dear Argus. Tomorrow, I will tell my mother of her, how she hides and where she will go. Let us hope King Toga can protect her too, though I think after today, Kagome is beginning to recognize her own. She will be a great leader.”
Leaning his head toward her tiny hands, Argus snuffled in agreement. He remembered the fallen king and queen, how they were always so gentle with his kind. He would protect this new one at all costs.
#inuyasha#inuyahsa#kagome#inukag#inukago#sesskagu#eventual smut#eventual happy ending#romance#love#fluff#inukagfluff#mirsan#au#aufairytale#kogayame#inu no daiyokai#inuyasha x kagome#new wip#my wip
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Red Rose (2)
Jaebum mafia au
one / three / four
pairing: Jaebum x Reader
genre: mafia!au, romance, drama, angst, mature
plot: your high school sweetheart, Im Jaebum, is the most feared criminal and you’re his one true love
a/n: at this point, this is basically mafia crack - i’ll write another one that is all dangerous this one is wack right now lmao. Also in my opinion guns should never ever be used. i know this treats gun use lightly but it does not show my opinion or my views - gun use should be banned everywhere. i can go on a whole rant but i wont unless y’all want to hear it <3 but i hope y’all will enjoy this
not edit
Your palm pressed against his, as you lay your head on his shoulder. His hand wrapped around yours, the other held on your waist, as his cheek fell on your head. You softly swayed with the music playing from the boombox settled on his desk at the corner of his room.
“You look beautiful tonight,” Jaebum moved back, looking into your eyes. You let out a quiet snort at him for being so adorable.
“Sure, I do, Jaebum,” you rolled your eyes.
You had missed your ball in highschool, so here was your boyfriend making up for it in his room. You were in your yellow duck pjs, and Jaebum in a sweatshirt and pjs pants covered with Bart Simpson’s face.
“I mean it,” he kissed your forehead, and as you stared into his eyes you believed him.
Everything was magicial and beautiful. Nothing could compare to this, especially not a high school ball.
“Table number 5,” Randy woke you up from the memory you had lost yourself in.
You instantly moved walking towards the table as you pulled out your notebook and pen from your apron. You froze when you saw the group infront of you, but you pretended to keep your cool.
Jaebum wasn’t here with them, but it was the rest of the boys. They had been coming here a lot after that night.
You don’t think Jaebum had recognised you, he ate the food, left a generous tip and walked out. He didn’t come to the diner again, but the others did.
And they came very often. Atleast, once every two days.
“Hey, welcome back,” you cringed, but ignored it as you carried on. “What can I get y’all today?”
“Oh, howdy partner,” the pretty boy with the juicy lips said, as the others groaned in displeasure. He chuckled happily at the reaction before continuing, “I’ll have the waffles again, with two scoops of icecream and extra sauce.”
“No problem,” you smiled, and took the orders for the rest of the group.
Your heart settled slightly as you placed their food in front of them. Jaebum was not coming again today. That made you feel relieved, but made your gut twist and heart sink all at once.
Even though he didn’t recognise you, it was nice seeing him again. It felt nice to be in his presence once again, even though things were not as they used to be.
Something about Jaebum had dulled down. Something heavy walked with him, step after step, it weighed him down. It darkened the world around him.
Even his group of friends lessened their horsing around when he sat with them.
Something about him had changed and it broke your heart seeing him like that.
In the hour that he was here at the diner a week ago, he hadn’t laughed once. Even when his whole group was laughing and joking, he didn’t participate. Only commenting once or twice. and one rare smile that didn’t shine as bright as before. He wasn’t the Jaebum who held you in his private ball, and danced to old love songs with you.
He was someone else.
But it didn’t matter. You wanted to see him again, be around him once again. Just be in the same room, and breathe the same air as him. You missed him, and even this Jaebum was enough to warm your heart for the smallest moment.
The sky had gotten darker over your shift today. You looked at the old watch on your wrist and saw it was nearly midnight. You walked to the back, and told Randy you’ll finish after checking out table 5.
“Yeah alright, just bring the dishes in too,” he said, lost in the game of numbers as he started at his accounts book.
You nodded, even though he wouldn’t see it, and walked off. You waited twenty minutes, before the group finished.
“Was the food okay?” You asked, as you placed the check on the table.
“It was great,” one of them said pulling out his card.
“My shake wasn’t sweet enough,” the tall one, Yugyeom, said smiling sweetly.
“Yugyeom!” The one holding the card growled at him. And that’s how you knew his name. Every night Yugyeom would say something, and every night the card bearer would scrowl at him.
“You should try the double chocolate next time.” You smiled, as you took the card to the cashier.
The boys left within ten minutes, and twenty minutes later you finally left work.
Your sigh left you as a puff of white smoke, as you put on your gloves and exited from the back door into the alleyway.
Jaebum hadn’t come today, again. You felt your heart sink, but you brushed it off.
There was no point dwelling on something that out of your control. All it did was give you sleepless nights filled with worry and a thousand scenarios of reunion of how you and Jaebum will get back together.
You shook your head, as another image of Jaebum walking into the diner missing you by a second entered your mind. He walks over to the counter, looking down at a shocked Randy.
“Where is she? Where is y/n?” Jaebum askes with agony and hope heavy in his voice. His eyes look around the diner with desperation, then back at Randy.
Randy is taken aback by the tears shining in Jaebum’s eyes, as he tells him; “she just left.”
Jaebum curses under his breath as he rushes out the door, and runs to find you. He sees your shadow further down the road, at the crossing. The lights for the crossing turns green and you start walking.
“Y/n!” Jaebum yells. You turn around, and you freeze. Jaebum remains in his place and the traffic moves around us. His breath racing as he looks at you unable to look away. Finally, he had found you.
You’re standing there shocked; your chest heaving and your cheeks and nose painted rosy.
OMG
And its snowing!
Omg brilliant.
And then a truck comes your way-
“Okay, stop.” You told yourself, sternly. You closed your eyes embarrased by yourself. “What the fuck are you thinking?”
“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU THINKING FUCKER?” Your eyes widened as you jumped in your place.
“What-” you whispered, holding your hands at your heart. You removed your beanie from over your ear, and stuck your head out to the left to hear better.
“You really think Marco will let you fuckers live after what you did?” You gasped as you couldn’t believe your ears.
“Omg, real gangsters.” You murmured suprised. You had never seen one, only in movies and tv shows. But they still sounded scary as they you thought they would.
Some guys laughed at that comment, and it was silent for a moment.
You wanted to take a peak around the corner and see what was going on, but you knew better.
“I do know better, right?” You bit your lip tempted. You wanted to look, just a small peak. They wouldn’t even notice you were there. You could get real close to the wall and crouch on the floor so- “No, I know better.”
You shook your head and started walking before you did something stupid.
“Yeah?” Someone chuckled making you freeze, you knew that voice. “Well, goodluck telling Marco what happened here today, fucker.”
It was Yugyeom.
You turned on your heels, walking close to the wall. You took a deep breath, and looked over the corner, and your jaw dropped.
There were about five guys on charging towards Yugyeom.
Yugyeom pulls out a gun, shoots two in their legs and is about to shoot another when gun is wacked from his hands as a punch lands on his stomach. The gun lands a few feet away from you.
You cover your mouth to hold in the terrified gasp that was left you. The scene was straight from a movie.
Yugeyom smashed his head into the guy who had punched his stomach making him stumble back. He grabbed another one by their neck, kicking another in his balls and then knocking him out with a kick once he fell on his knees.
He twisted his arm loosening his grip, making the guy with the neck grip turn around. He pulls his back towards him, and wraps his arms around his throat. Yugyeom chokes the guy as he struggles for air, soon sliding down and Yugyeom lets him go.
The guy with the broken nose charges again, but Yugyeom right hooks before jumping and karate kicking his face. He falls to the ground, and in a matter of seconds Yugyeom has defeated five guys who were bigger than him.
You were impressed and terrified all at once. Your whole body was shaking with adrenaline as you took the scene in front of you.
This was the guy who wanted sweeter milkshake, and would laugh and smile so innocently. But this was also the guy, wiping the blood from the corner of his lips, his black shirt tore open from missing buttons revealing his chest.
Yugyeom chuckled cockily turning towards the guy who you thought was the boss because thats it goes. The minions fight and the boss sits back and watches, and then he steps in.
Before Yugyeom could turn to face him; the boss had jumped from the car infront of Yugyeom. He elbowed Yugyeom making him fall to the ground. He pulled out his gun and pointed it at Yugyeom’s head.
Yugyeom chuckled, still being a cocky little shit.
The boss slammed the gun onto Yugyeom’s face making you wince as a cut formed on his forehead.
You couldn’t think properly. Yugyeom’s arms fell weakly by his side, as he looked up and closed his eyes. He opened them slowly staring down the barrel of the gun.
Had he given up?
The boss smirked down at Yugyeom.
“Sad that you can’t give this message to your boss yourself,” he sneered at Yugyeom, leaning in closer before standing tall over him. You started moving, your body having no control of your movements.
“But your dead body would do the trick.”
He unlocked the gun, and in a second, you picked up Yugyeom’s gun, unlocked it and shot it in their direction.
The silencer must have come off, because a loud bang made your ears ring. You dropped the gun, covering your ears.
You managed to regain some of your senses and looked towards Yugyeom.
His eyes closed tightly, and he didn’t move. You heart shrivelled in your chest as your blood ran cold.
Your ears rang loudly, as you fell to the floor. You gasped for air but nothing came into your lung.
You stared at Yugyeom, as he remained still; not moving.
You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t save him.
And then red fell on his face; little splatters and then bigger blobs.
Yugyeom opened one eye, peaking at the sight in front of him.
Both of your eyes widened as your jaws fell wide open. The boss in his black coat fell to the cold damp ground as red seeped out from him.
Yugyeom’s eyes met yours, and they widened even further.
You took in a deep breath, gasping once more. This time the frosty air filled your lungs. It burned your dry throat, and cooled your lungs as you collapsed on to the palms on your hand. Your knees bent, the grainy street digging into your leggings as you closed your eyes.
“Are you okay?” You called out, gulping.
Yugyeom didn’t answer. He stared at you for a moment before opening his mouth. But he couldn’t say anything, before he could another voice boomed from behind you.
“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?”
You turned around only to be blinded by the bright light. You covered your eyes as your eyes adjusted to the light. You could make out four figures against the harsh lights.
“Where is your silencer, Yugyeom? Get up the cops will be here soon.” The same voice said, and this time you could tell who it was.
“We have a bigger problem,” Yugyeom got up and began walking towards you. “It wasn’t me.”
“Really? Who was it then?” The guy who always snapped at Yugyeom snapped once again.
“it was her,” Yugyeom pointed at you, as he stood a few inches away from you.
“The waitress?!” Someone gasped. “The hell?”
You looked up at the boys who surrounded you, and then at the body laying unmoving and blood spilling out from him. You left bile come up, as you turned to the side and vomitted.
You looked up one last time to see Jaebum stare at you in shock, and then darkness fell over you.
#jaebum#mafia#got7 mafia#angst#funny#fluff#mafia au#kpop#fanfic#cute#romance#mature#drama#hope y'all like it#this is like mafia crack lmao#redrose#red rose#jaedaddy
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Cody & Frankie
Cody & Frankie
Cody watched as Blaster lifted a barrel off of a car. Ever since Blaster had joined their team, he’d been left behind at the Firehouse with Cody, as he was a Communications Officer, which left him paired with Cody.
“Why am I completing training exercises when I’m never going to be out in the field?” Asked Blaster, as Chase observed him.
“In the event of Cody being in danger.” Said Chase, getting stares from Blaster and Cody.
“No offense,” Started Blaster, “but Autobot City is practically a fortress, any Decepticon that is stupid enough to get too close to here is scrap.”
“You mean like the ones of the Alchemor?” Asked Chase, making Blaster go silent.
“Well, if you guys are busy,” Said Cody, getting up, “I’m going to meet Frankie.”
“Cody, I must ask you to postpone your date with Francine,” Said Chase, making Cody blush, “you may be required for the training scenarios.”
“RiGht,” Cody’s voice cracked, “First thing, I’m not dating Frankie, we’re just friends, second, you have that training dummy that can stand in for me.”
Chase and Blaster both stared at Cody, “Need we remind you of the Velgrox incident?”
“That scenario doesn’t count,” Protested Chase, “You and Francine instigated that incident.”
“Yeah, but it showed that Blaster doesn’t need to go through any more scenarios,” Said Cody, folding his arms, “He protected me just fine.”
Chase remained silent, which Cody took as his que to leave. The two Autobots watch Cody limp away.
“I think he’s still upset about Prowl.” Said Blaster, frowning.
“I thought it was just me.” Agreed Chase, as Cody disappeared from view.
C&F
Cody parked his bike outside the park, the lock activating automatically, before heading off to find Frankie. He’d usually be able to find her at the memorial statue that had been erected in the middle of the park after the Decepticon Attack two and a half years ago. Cody remembered the attack, because it was when he, truly, first met Starscream.
“Cody, over here!” Called Frankie, waving at him.
Cody smiled and started towards her, she was sitting on a bench in front of Prowl and Quickshadow’s legs. The two statues’ shadows casting a shadow of the area, Brawn and Windcharger’s Statues stood over by the lake, while Huffer, Hound and Beachcomber stood in a field of trees, bushes and flowers. The seven Autobots had been killed when Starscream led his Decepticon ‘loyalists’ against the city, it was because of those seven that no humans were harmed in the attack.
“CeCe got her first Science Fair prize,” Said Frankie, showing Cody a hologram of the nine-year-old, braces and all, holding a ribbon and her project, “It collects glitter from all surfaces, Daddy wants to see if more can be made, since, well, you know glitter.”
“Small, sticks to everything and almost impossible to remove.” Said Cody, sitting next to Frankie as Fixit rolled past, “Blurr’s gotten a new paint job.”
“Yeah, blue really suits him.” Said Frankie, as Cody pulled a hologram out of his bag, “Nearly three years.”
Cody looked up at Prowl’s statue, he couldn’t get the sight of smoke pouring out of his optics and mouth as his body slowly greyed, the resulting explosion revealed that his internals had all but melted. Prowl’s corpse had landed on Cody’s leg, resulting in the limb being amputated. The only bright thing that came from that day, in Cody’s opinion, was Arcee taking Starscream’s head off.
Cody quickly looked to the ground, before placing hologram emitter at the feet of the statues. A small Autobot symbol appeared, Ratchet had told them that placing a hologram with the faction’s symbol was the Cybertronian equivalent of placing flowers on a grave.
“Jolt’s been working with Daddy on something,” Said Frankie, from her spot next to Cody, “I think it’s related to the power spikes.”
Cody hummed, before Frankie took his hand and said, “Let’s go get something to eat.”
“Anything to keep me from Chase’s scenarios.” Said Cody, walking with Frankie, their hands still entwined.
“I’m not sure if we can keep this up,” Said Frankie, her grip on Cody’s hand tightening, “Dad only not questioning why we’re meeting up so often because he’s working with Jolt, I don’t know how he’ll react to us, you know, dating.”
“Chase came close to finding out as well,” Said Cody, sighing, “he said our date would have to be postponed. I think he and Blaster are trying a little too hard to make up for Prowl.”
“HA! I knew it!” Cried Blades, making Cody and Frankie jump, “I knew you two were dating!”
“Blades!” Hissed Cody, as everyone stared at them.
“What?” Asked Blades, before looking around, “Oh…right, sorry.”
“Blades, why are you here?” Asked Cody, his face red.
“Oh, press conference, you know, live broadcasts, Q&A, that sort of thing.” Said Blades, as Cody spotted Huxley Prescott filming them.
“Y-you said ‘live broadcast’,” Said Cody, colour slowly draining from his face, “So, everyone watching heard your outburst?”
“Yup.” Said Blades, as Frankie caught on.
“Okay, maybe they’re not watching tv?” Suggested Frankie, just as their phones went off, “Oooh, it’s my Dad.”
“Kade.” Said Cody, confused, “Hello?”
Cody suddenly pulled the phone away from his ear and winced, “Dani, why are you using Kade’s phone? Oh, that noise was you, Kade.”
Frankie nervously answered her phone, as Cody’s face went beet red, “Hi, Daddy…”
Frankie was stiff for a moment, before relaxing, “Right, thank, Dad. Love you too.” Frankie hung up, before looking at Cody, who almost seem purple.
“Kade…I don’t need you to give me the Talk again,” Said Cody, “The first time was traumatising enough. No, don’t put Dad on the phone… hey, Dad. Yes, I do know how that stuff works. No, I don’t need Chase to make a diagram. I, I don’t think that’s an appropriate question Dad. Yeah, sure. Love you too. No, don’t break out the pictures!”
Cody lowered his phone and stared at the screen, “Dad’s going to break out the baby pictures.”
“Please, as if I haven’t already seen them.” Smirked Frankie, before looking up at Blades, “Where’s Dani?”
“With Taylor,” Sighed Blades, looking dejected, before looking down at Cody and Frankie, “Wanna go flying?”
“Is energon blue?” Was Frankie’s response, before Blades Transformed and Cody and Frankie climbed into his cockpit.
“Any requests?” Asked Blades, waiting for their input.
“Somewhere private.” Said Cody, immediately.
“Somewhere private coming up.” Said Blades, as he took off.
“I’m sure that could’ve gone better.” Said Frankie, as soon as Blades arrived at a waterfall that was difficult to access from the ground.
“Yeah, Kade tried giving me the Talk, again and Dad wanted to know if we were physical and if we were protection.”
“What is it with parents and thinking their kids are interfacing?” Asked Blades, making Cody and Frankie look up at him, confused, “You know, how humans make sparklings.”
Cody and Frankie blushed and looked at the ground, “Sooo, what now?” Asked Frankie, looking at Cody.
“We wait up here for a couple of hours and then head back,” Said Cody, sitting at the water’s edge, “I don’t think Kade’s going to let up on the Talk.”
Frankie smirked playfully, “Well, you know what we could do to fill that time up?”
“Oh, what?” Grinned Cody, before Frankie pushed him in the water, only to be dragged in herself when Cody grabbed her wrist.
Both teens were laughing as they threw water at each other, Frankie tackled Cody, making the young man fall on his back with Frankie on top of him. The young woman giggled and kissed Cody, resting her forehead against his.
“I love you.” Whispered Frankie, getting comfortable on Cody’s chest.
Cody returned the kiss, “I love you too.”
Frankie buried her head in the crook of Cody’s neck, getting comfortable as the pair drifted off into sleep.
C&F
Blades glanced over at the two humans, both cuddling each other in their sleep, and checked his internal chronometer before deciding to wake the pair up.
“Guys?” Said Blades, his voice soft, “It’s time to go.”
The two teens groaned, but started to get up, both shivering as the cold started to set in.
“Next time we’re up here,” Said Frankie, looking at Cody, “We bring a change of clothes.”
Cody smiled, before climbing into Blades with Frankie. Blades took off and took them back to Autobot City, landing on top of the Firehouse. The pair were greeted by their families, Doc Greene and Chief Burns holding a set of dry clothes.
“Blades said you’d need them.” Said Chief, as the pair took the dry clothes, “But, we need to talk about you running off.”
“I’m partially to blame, Chief,” Said Blades, crouching, “I suggested that we go flying and the fact I kind of outed their relationship on live TV.”
Chief sighed, before looking at the pair again, “Come on, you’re probably hungry, but, please, get changed first.”
Cody and Frankie nodded and headed off to dry off and change, leaving their parents on the landing pad.
“They do grow up fast, don’t they?” Asked Doc Greene, as Charlie frowned.
“I just wish that Cody didn’t grow up so fast.” Said Chief, as he watched Cody and Frankie messing around with each other.
“I just hope I win the next bet.” Said Doc Greene with a small smile.
C&F
Cody fiddled with the guitar strings, as Miko showed him how to play a chord.
“You’re doing great, Cody.” Said Miko, getting Cody to smile. Frankie was discussing some science stuff with Raf, while Jack was flicking through some paperwork given to him by Fowler, “I’d say we’re almost finished with the lessons.”
“It’s nice to be with you guys,” Said Cody, leaning back in his chair, “It’s almost as if things are as, they were before the Omega Lock incident.”
“Yeah, there are times I half expect Ratchet or Arcee to walk in and ask what we’re doing.” Sighed Miko, looking out the window, “I mean it’s nice having the Autobots here, I think I speak for everyone when I say we miss our partners.”
Cody’s smile turned sad, “I remember the time Prowl walked into that power line, I don’t I ever saw anyone move so fast.”
“Or that time Bulkhead screamed his head off when we showed him that mouse.” Grinned Miko, looking over at Jack.
“That’s nothing compared to Arcee calling an exhaust a ‘dowhicky’.” Said Jack, abandoning the paperwork.
“How about Bumblebee sneaking out of the base to go racing?” Asked Raf, as he joined the three.
“How about Kup’s cy-gar trick?” Asked Frankie, remembering the old bot.
“You mean the one where he turned it into a bullet?” Responded Miko, looking at Frankie.
“Yeah, that one!” Laughed Frankie, as Cody went to stand up, only for his prosthetic to buckle under his weight, “Cody!”
Jack caught Cody before he hit the ground, helping him back to the chair.
“It’s fine, it’s been acting up for a while.” Said Cody, as he rested the prosthetic on his other leg and pulled his trouser leg up. The light blue glow from the power cell flickered as the group observed it.
“I could get my dad to look at it.” Frankie offered, making Cody smile.
“I probably forgot to charge it properly.” Said Cody, getting back to his feet. Frankie held his arm, in case the leg gave out again, “You’re just looking for an excuse to steal me away, aren’t you?”
“How could you tell?” Smirked Frankie, as Jack sighed.
“Just remember to use protection,” Smirked Miko, making Cody and Frankie blush, “I’m too young to be an aunt.”
The two eighteen-year-olds quickly left the room to escape twenty-one-year-old, as Jack levelled her with an unimpressed stare.
“Old enough to be a mother, but too young to be an aunt.” Said Jack, folding his arms.
“Shut up.” Giggled Miko, as Raf decided to go back to his computer.
C&F
Cody winced as Doc Greene removed the power cell from his leg.
“Hmm, it seems that the power cells developed a fault.” Said Doc Greene, rubbing his chin, “I don’t know what could’ve cause it, unless you went for a sudden swim.”
Cody and Frankie froze and glanced at each other, thinking back to the week before and their dip in the pool of water.
“I know that look.” Said Doc Greene, folding his arms, “I’ll see about making your next prosthetic waterproof, Cody.”
“Thanks, Doc.” Said Cody, as Doc Greene reinserted the power cell.
“Frankie,” Said Doc Greene as the pair were leaving, “do try to be home at a reasonable hour tonight, your mother and I heard you knock the planter over.”
“Daddy!” Exclaimed Frankie, her face going red with embarrassment.
“I’m glad that no one heard me knock an entire shelving unit over.” Muttered Cody, as Blurr shot past.
“Higuys,byeguys,I’dlovetostopandchatbut,I’mbusybusybusy!” Said Blurr, speaking a mile a minute.
“That red energon must be some really strong stuff.” Said Frankie, as Blurr turned a corner.
“Apparently, Blurr’s body was built to use it,” Said Cody, shrugging, “Something about Velocitron and speed?”
A red and black semi with a yellow cab pulled to a stop in front of the pair.
“There you guys are,” Said Blaster, opening his door for them, “Chief has an announcement down at the Firehouse.”
“What is it?” Asked Cody, as he and Frankie climbed in.
“I don’t know,” Said Blaster, driving off, “Blurr was supposed to pick you up, but then he got called away by Bumblebee for something. Oh, and be warned, I think Chase’s sister is visiting.”
“Chase has a sister?” Asked Cody, cocking an eyebrow.
“The way Strongarm acts?” Snorted Blaster, “She might as well be!”
Blaster pulled to a stop outside the Firehouse, allowing Frankie and Cody to climb out. Blaster transformed and followed them inside, joining the joint crowd of Humans and Cybertronians. Cody and Frankie made their way through the crowd of Autobots with ease and then weaved through the humans.
“Graham, what’s going on?” Asked Cody, as soon as he spotted his brother.
“Dad has an announcement to make,” Said Graham, frowning as he looked at his notes, “Something about work.”
Cody noticed pink glittery ink on the paper, “Sarah’s really learning how to draw, huh?”
“Yeah, she’s either drawing or running Amy and I into the ground.” Said Graham, yawning.
“I heard Kassie’s been a nightmare for Kade and Hayley.” Said Frankie, folding her arms.
“Yeah, even I can hear her temper tantrums.” Groaned Graham, shaking his head.
Everyone went silent as Chief Burns walked/shuffled onto the stage.
“Okay, I’m going to keep this short and sweet,” Said Chief Burns, looking around, “I’m retiring. I spent a good 45 years serving on the police forces and, frankly, I’d love to spend more. However, I’m not getting any younger and the resident doctors, thank you Doctor Darby, have told me that my body can’t keep up with the rescue anymore. I’ll be making the official announcement tomorrow. That is all.”
Cody watched as his father left the stage, wincing as he stumbled a bit when he reached the steps. Carin helped Charlie with the last few steps. Cody felt a tug on his trouser leg, drawing his attention to the twins, Kyle and Maggie. Kyle and Maggie were Cody’s younger half-siblings, born shortly after his dad married Carin when they first moved to Autobot City.
“What’s daddy we-tyre ring?” Asked Kyle, looking up at Cody.
“Retiring?” Asked Cody, getting a nod from Kyle, “It means he’s going to stop working because he’s starting to get too old.”
“Why?” Asked Maggie, her teddy trailing behind her.
“Because he’s a grown up,” Said Cody, crouching down to their level, “and, eventually we grow up so much that we can’t work anymore.”
“Then what happens?” Asked Kyle, making Cody freeze.
“Uh, well, then we, er,um…” Cody was saved from explaining death to the twins by Carin walking towards them.
“Come on,” Said Carin, hoisting Maggie onto her hip, “time for your nap.”
Cody picked up Kyle and followed his stepmother, Frankie following behind them, leaving Graham with his work. Getting the twins in bed and a sleep was fairly easy, Maggie and Kyle were quick to nod off. Soon the family, plus their significant others, were sitting in the living room.
“I know it’s short notice,” Said Charlie, looking at his children, “but, I think it’s time to face the music, I’m not the man I was.”
“It’s fine, Dad.” Said Dani, resting her feet on Taylor’s lap, “You’ve earned it, more than any of us at this rate.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Demanded Kade, crossing his arms.
“I don’t think Dani was looking to start a fight, Kade.” Said Cody, from his place curled up with Frankie.
“I saw you explaining retirement to the twins, Cody.” Said Carin, smiling softly as he flushed red, “I also saw how you tried to avoid explaining the concept of death to them.”
“They’ll probably have to be told sooner or later.” Mumbled Cody, his grip on Frankie’s hand tightening softly.
“We will when the time comes.” Promised Carin, her smile turning sad.
Shortly after Prowl’s death, Cody had vanished, along with some weapons Wheeljack had been working on. Cody was later found next to the remains of a Decepticon known as Thundercracker. Thundercracker’s optics had been torn out and parts of his body had been subjected to small explosives. What killed Thundercracker, however, was a small vial of cosmic rust that had been poured into the remains of his optics. Just shy of where Cody was found was the burnt out remains of a Decepticon energon mine, with the melted remains of MECH agents. Ultra Magnus had said that he’d assumed some humans were working with the Decepticons, he just didn’t expect them to be wiped out in one strike.
“How’s your studying coming along?” Asked Charlie, swiftly changing the subject.
“Doctor Darby thinks I’m progressing well,” Said Cody, his frame relaxing, “if I keep at my current level, I’ll be able to continue on and become a doctor by the time I’m 25.”
“Know you,” Smirked Dani, her hands cradling her bump, “You’ll probably find a way to become a doctor before then.”
Cody let out a laugh, before the robotic lion that was Steeljaw tumbled into the room. Everyone watched Steeljaw chase something that looked like a ball of light, before he vanished down the stairs.
Kade smirked as Hayley adjusted Kassie on her chest, “So, Cody, what are your and Frankie’s plans for the future?”
“Decent paying jobs before getting married and having kids.” Said the pair, simultaneously.
“Why do I get the feeling you two rehearse that?” Asked Dani, as Sarah toddled up to her parents and presented them with a picture.
“Ta-Da!” Sang Sarah, as Amy took the picture.
“Oh, Graham, look at this,” Gushed Amy, showing Graham the picture, “it’s another work of art.”
“A Masterpiece.” Agreed Graham, picking the toddler up.
C&F (Time skip)
Cody rocked back and forth on his heels, the weight of the small box in his pocket was impossibly heavy. He’d been waiting for Frankie to turn up for nearly an hour and was beginning to think she wasn’t going to show. The sounds of a fight caught his attention, Cody spotted a guy that worked with Frankie having his ass handed to him. The guy, Matt, Cody thought, had been flirting with Frankie, despite her saying she wasn’t interested. Cody caught sight of the person knocking sense into Matt. Frankie was dressed up nicely, despite still having her lab coat on, while hitting Matt with her handbag. Cody winced as Matt hit the doorframe and slid, before walking over to Frankie. It was only as Cody got closer, did he see that Frankie’s hair was dishevelled, as if someone had pulled on it, there was a bruise forming on her neck and the necklace Cody had given her for her 21st Birthday was missing.
Cody reached and touch Frankie’s shoulder, making her whip around with a snarl on her face. Frankie completely relaxed at the sight of Cody, while Matt struggled to get up off the floor.
“What…happened?” Asked Cody, frowning.
Frankie threw a disgusted look at Matt, “He didn’t know how to take ‘no’ for an answer.”
“Are you alright?” Questioned Cody, looking into Frankie’s eyes.
Frankie sighed, “Yeah, he only turned violent when I entered the restaurant, but he only followed me here from work.”
Cody’s gaze turned to Matt, before it fell to Matt’s right hand, “Aren’t you going to give that back?”
Matt froze at Cody’s cold tone, something Cody had picked up from Prowl. Matt looked at the necklace in his grip, before throwing it into the restaurant and trying to run off. Cody grabbed the necklace from the air and looked at the damage. Cody sighed when he found only the clasp was broken.
“Your mum’s necklace.” Gasped Frankie, upon seeing the damaged necklace.
“It’s an easy fix.” Said Cody, carefully putting the necklace with the ring box, “Do you want to go home?”
Frankie took a deep breath, before nodding. Cody gave her a small smile, before going to the manager to cancel the reservation. The two twenty-six-year-olds drove home in silence, Frankie closed her eyes and leaned back in her seat.
“What did you want to talk about?” Asked Frankie, almost making Cody jump.
“Let’s, let’s deal with that when we get home.” Said Cody, suddenly remembering the box.
“Right.” Said Frankie, her tone despondent.
“Don’t worry, it’s a good thing,” Said Cody, before frowning, “well, I think it’s a good thing, I mean the others said it’s a good thing and, I’m rambling again, aren’t I?”
Frankie giggled, Frankie had been terrified that Cody was going to break up with her, after she found that ring in the draw. Cody had been giving her gifts recently, when she brought it up with Priscilla and a couple other friends, came to the conclusion that they were breakup gifts, something to help with the actual blow of the breakup. Frankie knew that Cody didn’t class breaking up as a good thing, unless he took a heavy blow to the head.
Cody pulled into his usual parking space and went inside the home with Frankie, both taking a seat on the sofa.
“Are you okay? Really, okay?” Asked Cody, looking into Frankie’s eyes.
Frankie averted her gaze and sighed, “I was scared, the entire time he was following me, I was scared he was going to do something. I took the longest possible route to try and get away from him, but when I arrived at the restaurant, I found he was already there. I thought if I ignored him, he’d leave me alone.”
“Then he decided to grab you.” Said Cody, making Frankie nod.
“He was fired today because he damaged something that the Autobots are keeping top secret,” Explained Frankie, as Cody wrapped an arm around her, “we don’t know how he got hold of it, but Hardhead found it in Matt’s locker and demanded an explanation from him. He didn’t give one.”
Cody pulled Frankie closer to him, rubbing comforting circles on her arm, “It’s like something in him snapped. I wasn’t expecting but, I kinda was? It’s difficult to explain.”
“I doubt he’ll hurt you now,” Said Cody, pulling Frankie close and allowing her to rest her head in the crook of his neck, “I saw Streetwise picking him up.”
Frankie smiled, before looking at Cody, “What is it you wanted to talk about?”
Cody swallowed the sudden lump in his throat, “Right, er, yes, well…screw it.”
Cody got off the sofa and got down on one knee, taking the ring box out of his pocket, “Frankie, you’ve made me incredibly happy in the time we’ve been together and, frankly, I don’t want that to end. Will you marry me?”
Frankie’s eyed danced between the ring and Cody’s face. The next thing Cody knew, he was on his back with Frankie laying on top of him and kissing him.
“I’ll…take that as a, yes?” Asked Cody, as Frankie grinned and nodded her head.
Cody grinned as well and slipped the ring on Frankie’s finger.
#transformers#Transformers Prime#transformers rescue bots#cody burns#frankie greene#rescue bots#Autobot City#Delta Writes#kade burns#dani burns#graham burns#charlie burns#hayley#taylor#amy#carin#chase#blades#blaster#blurr#steeljaw#prowl#windcharger#quickshadow#brawn#beachcomber#hound#huffer#streetwise
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Memory
Memento (Unus) and Wilford Warfstache, somewhere between WKM and WMLW
It was a dark night- the rain was splattering along the asphalt, along the shoulders of the man sludging forward, holding his cracked glasses.
“Ah, who cares. It’s not like I ever really needed them,” he muttered to himself, tossing them carelessly into the street. He heard them crack underneath the tire of a car before he blinked-
And they were in his hand again, as pristine as they’d been when he first got them. He could hardly remember that time anymore, only that Damien had been with him that day.
Damien… Now that was a name he hadn’t thought of in a while. Yet he thought of him every day.
There was a door in front of him, he realized, and he thought it might be his, but who could tell at this point. Life was nothing but a blur anyways. He pushed the door open, slinging his soaked jacket to the floor on his way to land face first into the bed. He didn’t even notice the small man sitting at the desk across the room.
“You’re very good at hiding, you know that, William?”
The sudden smooth voice almost startled Wilford, turning him around to stare in bewilderment. “Oh. Thank you? Do I know you?”
“No, you don’t. But I know you very well.”
Wilford sat up, furrowing his brow as the stranger stood, holding his hands together as he walked forward so smoothly that he seemed to almost glide along the floor. He almost seemed familiar, like he wore the face of someone that Wilford had seen in a lifetime past. His blue-green eyes were intense, seeming to look right into Wil’s very soul. His hair and suit were perfectly groomed and tailored, not a wrinkle or hair out of place. A sort of perfection that simply told Wilford that whoever this man was, he was just as out of place in this world as himself.
“Who are you then?” Wilford asked, a bit of a smile creeping across his face as he came to this realization.
“Memento, Unus. I am the memories of life and the eternity that comes after death. My partner and I are what keep the balances of life and death in perfect harmony,” the man explained smoothly, now standing in front of Wilford, looking down at him with the tiniest curve of his own lip.
“That must be a rather difficult job,” Wilford said, sitting back on his hands, clearly not bothered by the cryptic nature of Memento.
“We make it work. But then there’s you, of course.” Memento tilted his head, the smile disappearing from his face. He stepped another step closer, reaching a hand to lift up Wilford’s chin with a finger. “Something that eludes even us. Strange, don’t you think?”
Wilford glanced down towards the hand, then back up at the piercing eyes above him. “Are we gonna…” He made the end of the question very clear with the way he curved his eyebrow.
Memento sighed softly, but he didn’t move away or even let go. Instead, he continued, “What is it that makes you so hard to track? What is it that broke you so much that it’s come to this?”
“I wish I knew as much as you, pal,” Wilford laughed, even as his head began its familiar sting. Memento’s hands were suddenly grabbing the sides of his face with enough force to force a little “oh” from him.
“Don’t fade on me,” Memento ordered, nearly a growl as his eyes, only for a moment, turned black. He quickly composed himself, and the blueness was back. “You aren’t leaving so quickly. I finally have a chance to see what is inside you, and I intend to do just that.”
“Oh. Oh, so we’re- okay, sure, I don’t have any lube but-”
“Not like that. Not your body. Your soul.”
Wilford pouted a little. Why not both? Oh well. “Could you still tie me up?” he requested, only half teasing. Might as well have some fun, right?
Memento sighed, putting his fingers to the bridge of his nose for a moment before snapping his fingers.
Wilford found his hands bound with black vines, thick and firm, to the headboard.
Before he could say another word, he looked up to see Memento standing on his knees above his lap. Hands smoothly brought his gaze up to those eyes…
They weren’t blue.
They were pure black, like nothing Wilford had ever seen. Like two holes that stretched into a vast empty space, drawing him in. A white spiral came from the darkness, growing ever closer until the brightness had filled Wilford’s vision, leaving only a blinding light…
“William…”
Wilford froze as he heard the voice. Soft and feminine, but hiding a fierceness and a sharp tongue. He saw a hundred moments flash by, each too quick to make out, before she appeared in the white light.
She was in her nightgown, the soft silk caressing her thighs, with a thin robe stretching a little further. She was barefoot, like she’d only stepped outside for a breath of fresh air.
“Celine…” His voice broke at the word, but he didn’t care. He didn’t dare move, to risk shattering this illusion of her. “It’s been so long.”
She didn’t answer. In fact, it didn’t seem that she could hear him, or even see him. She simply walked past him, like a ghost in the night. As he turned around, he could see himself… no. Not himself. The man he used to be, standing in waiting for her.
He remembered this night. It was the first night that Celine told him that she loved him. He found himself echoing his own words, “Run away with me, Celine. I can’t give you a manor, but I will give you the best adventure you’ll ever have.”
It seemed like a lifetime that he stood there, watching this moment frozen in time. But he was pulled out of it by another ghost walking past him. “Damien!”
Damien didn’t notice his call, walking briskly towards another William, his hands clenched around his cane as though prepared to fight with it, although they had both known that he would never. “How could you do this? Our best friend- my sister- Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
“Celine will be happier with me, she never liked that house in the first place.” William’s voice seemed too practiced, like he was working hard not to show any cracks around his childhood friend.
“Was destroying Mark’s heart worth it? Was ruining the friendships we’ve had since we were children…” Damien’s voice broke, and he lowered the cane, not looking at William. “Go then. Go without your remorse.”
“I’m sorry, Damien. I never wanted to hurt him, I just loved her,” Wilford said as Damien faded into the white. He wished he had said it then.
“Listen, it’s simple.”
Wilford’s blood ran cold as he heard the voice behind him. “No. No- not this, please, not this,” he begged out to the whiteness, not wanting to turn around, not wanting to see him in that red robe-
“You shoot me, and if it’s a dud, then it’s all water under the bridge. I’ll forgive you for stealing my wife, and we can be pals again.”
Even before he’d lost his mind, the Colonel had known it was a bad idea, tried to refuse. But Mark had insisted, putting the gun in William’s hands, pointing the barrel to his own chest. Then he said the words that had destroyed the Colonel forever. “Do it for Damien’s sake.”
Wilford found himself in a crumpled heap on the ground as the gunshot went off, as if he was the one shot. He was shaking, crying, his hands were tight in his hair as though he were trying to rip himself in half or tear out his own hair. He could smell the gunpowder, it overwhelmed his senses as Mark’s labored breathing echoed throughout the space, drumming through his ears no matter how much he tried to cover them- until the ringing silence deafened him.
It took a few moments to realize that all he could hear now was his own cries, and that it was much darker than it had been. Opening his eyes, he realized that he was back in the dimly lit hotel room, curled up on the bed.
Taking a breath, he sat up, finding Memento sitting beside him, looking at him with a sort of pity in his eyes. “It was that house. Or, rather, what had been inside.”
For once, Wilford had nothing to say, just looking down and trying to forget again. Things were easier when he didn’t remember. When everything was a blur and nothing really mattered because Time and Death no longer existed.
“It affected all of you, but after what you had done…” Memento trailed off, sighing after a moment. “Deodamnatus,” he muttered under his breath as he stood. “You will not remember this in the morning, but we will meet again, my friend. And for your own sake…” He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Wilford’s forehead.
Wilford didn’t understand, but it suddenly didn’t matter, as all of his thoughts quieted at once. It was silent, empty, like a tomb that would never be filled.
“Sleep. Autem videbo vos una dies. Vale.”
Wilford didn’t know what Memento said, but the softness of his voice seemed to lull him faster than any lullaby. He was lost in dreamless slumber before his head even hit the pillow.
-
The night was dark- the rain was splattering along the asphalt, along the shoulders of the man sludging forward, holding his hand to his lips.
As he drew his hand back, a wispy smoke came from his mouth, as stormy as the clouds overhead. He would keep Wilford’s memories, keep them safe. It was a mistake, he knew. But pity stopped him from dealing with the man just yet. Besides… He had an entity to find.
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Goodbye For Us
PAIRING- Steve Rogers x Reader (slight implied Bucky Barnes x Reader at the end)
WORD COUNT- 3.7K
WARNINGS- Angst!! Separation, being deserted. Swearing, mentions of self-destructive behaviour. Grief and rejection.
Summary: Steve decides to return to Peggy, leaving you broken and unsure how to live without the man you have loved with all of your soul. But will his decision be the making of you?
A/N: Ya girls is back with some music inspiration, this is inspired by Selena Gomez’s new Song Lose you to Love me. As soon as I heard it this plot came barreling into my head and I had to write it! Thank you to @abovethesmokestacks for being me Beta on this one! I’m sorry for what you’re about to read, it hurt me too.
Gif not mine
Your world was burning, crumbling into molten ash scattering through the wind turning into smoke as the tips of your fingers grasped to keep it slipping away from you.
“Please don’t do this.” your voice was trembling, sore and unused as the man sat before you physically winced.
“I... I have too.”
You spat his words back at him, with all the venom you could muster. Another set of blue eyes shifted to look at you, concern flashing across them before settling on his long-time friend making the hardest decision.
“You don’t know what it was like to not have… to try and live after the snap.” Steve’s shoulders sagged, you noticed for the first time how his skin wrinkled around his eyes. The lighter shade of blonde scattered against his golden tresses, sparkling silver in the light. He looks tired.
“You promised me.” you sounded desperate now and you were, a little girl chasing smoke on the wind travelling further and further away from you.
~~~
The sun was setting low in the sky, soft cool sheets caressed your body as the warmth from Steve encompassed you. Steeping into the pores of your skin, moulding against your bones. Everything in your body screamed for him, burned for him. Your heart thumped in a steady rhythm tattooing his name against your sternum
Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve
“Will you make me a promise?” you mused, your voice carrying across the soft crooning of your Spotify playlist you personally made for Steve. A large hand roamed against your hip bone, a deep hum answered you. Rolling to face him, your golden lover bathed in the afternoon glow.
“Never leave me.” A small crooked smile spread as slow as molasses, that warmth inside you spread deeper inside you. Attaching itself to your very attoms, curling around the nucleus itself and settling there. Steve’s large hand found yours, bringing the tips of your fingers to his lips. Pressing them against the smooth velvet, against the place that worshipped every inch of you they whispered the words against your skin. Branding you anew.
“Never.”
In that moment, you’d never loved anyone the way you love Steve Rogers
~~~
“Sweetheart..” Steve has the decency to look pained at least.
“No, you don’t get to call me that anymore.” You shake your head, finally seeing what you had been too blind to see all these years. What you had looked through rose-tinted lenses at. Natasha had warned you, Natasha. Your heart lurched at the thought of her, how you pushed aside her concern for you. Her sisterly love for you. It all made sense.
“Natasha knew, she knew all these years that you didn’t let go of her... Not really. Not ever.” You bitterly wiped the tears from your eyes, the biting sting only adding to your anguish.
“She always warned me... Not to play with fire.” Steve whispered, his admission carving a piece of your soul from you.
“But... Peggy. She’s dead Steve.” Bucky’s voice cut through the icy tension mounting, cracking the room with sudden electricity as Steve surged to his feet.
“But she’s NOT! I can go back, I can be with her and finally have the life I’ve always..” the words caught in his throat, blue eyes widening. Even Bucky whipped his head up metal arm whirring. You caught the sob in your throat before you swallowed it down.
“The life you’ve always wanted, right Steve? A home, someone to love you. Kids? You have that Steve, you have a family that loves you.. A home, why can’t I be the person to give you all that?” You look up at him, hands flat palms up on your knees. Begging to the man who you had loved for the better part of seven years completely looked down on you, the look in his eyes scaring you. Pity, he felt your pain but you knew, in those atoms that had been encompassed by him. His mind was made up.
“I’ve got a chance with Peggy, my Peggy. I have to take it.” You remained silent, his words lancing your heart with each syllable. You’re not sure how you managed to stand, much less find your way to the door looking back towards Steve. Unshed tears brimming in his eyes before one blink and they were gone.
“I hope it’s everything you want Captain.”
Your name falls flat from his lips, but like five years ago. You find yourself carried on the wind and away from Steve Rogers for the last time.
~~~
You don’t go with him to the mini transmat platform, no matter how much Sam begs you. Bucky tries to convince you. Bruce even threatens to tear your door down. But he doesn’t come to you, doesn’t try to patch up any resemblance of what you once had, what you once shared. Bucky comes back to your room when he’s gone, sits with his back against the door as you slide down the other side listening silently.
“He did what he said he’d do, put the stones back… didn’t... Well, you know.” Bucky clears his throat, you press the heels of your palms into your eyes. Your body is shaking with grief that he’s gone, back into the arms of the ghost in Steve’s eyes when he looked at you.
“Then I turned around and he was there.” your head flew up, inches from cracking the back of your skull against the door. He came back? A flash of hot white hope burns through you.
“The punk remembered when he left and came back.. he’s.. he’s lived his life. Seemed happy with his decision... I’m sorry.” you don’t remember when Bucky leaves your door, you don’t remember the day turning to night then back to day again. You don’t remember Wanda quietly leaving you a tray of breakfast, placing a hand against your door signing softly. All you remember is the void of emotions, except one. Because in that moment.
You’ve never hated anyone more than you hate Steve Rogers.
~~~
You throw yourself into missions, taking the ones that send you to the far reaches of the world. To the cold frigid landscape of Siberia, the humid thick air of Bangkok. Smog filled China and crystal blue waters of Malta, you kill. You drink, you fuck. Pretty brown eyed girls that taste like strawberries and cream, green-eyed boys with eager hands that fall into your trap. None of them blonde, never with blue eyes. Sam is concerned, Wanda is worried but Bucky looks at you with a sympathetic knowledge that makes your stomach lurch. Your hands itch to take the next solo mission, but Sam puts his foot down.
“You have to go with a partner.”
“Oh fuck off, Wilson, I work better alone!” you scoff, hands raking through your cropped hair. Half of it shaved to the skin. Sam’s deep eyes scan you, analysing your appearance. You had just come off seventy-two hours holed up in Vancouver. The mission took you twelve, it took the next sixty to lose yourself in bars that specialised in sweet overpriced cocktails with a menagerie of students stumbling through its doors and eventually into your bed.
“When was the last time you ate a decent meal? Slept for more than four hours, took a god damn bath?”
“Don’t…” you fisted your hand, anger and pain rolling off you in waves it make Wanda turn, arms wrapped around her middle physically recoiling from you.
“You used to love baths, you were always using all that soap and bubble shit with..”
“Don’t you fucking say his name Sam... Don’t, please.” your voice was hard with bite and venom which washed away with the alarming wave of tears brimming in your eyes.
“He was the one who loved them.” Wanda’s voice rang through the room throwing you into a memory you’d rather forget.
~~~
“God can we just stay here forever?” Steve groaned, head resting against the curve of the bath. You giggle, chin resting on his sternum as you gaze up at him.
“We’d get all wrinkly.” you titter, pressing your lips to his golden skin. The lavender bath salts soaked into his skin, your cheek vibrated from the deep chuckle in the bowls of his chest.
“But I’m so relaxed sweetheart.” Steve groaned scooting lower into the water, pulling at your hips bringing you closer to him.
“And what if the world needs us?” your nose nudges against his for a moment, you’re so close your not sure where Steve starts and you end.
“Well, then at least we can take another bath to celebrate saving the world again.”
“That sounds like a good plan Captain.”
“Mmm, doesn’t it just.” and his lips slipped over yours, one hand cradling the back of your head as you bleed into him.
~~~
Sam looks between you and Wanda, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“I’m taking you off the roster.”
You balk at Sam, scrambling to plead your case. You needed those missions.
“No, you need time. This person in front of me. I don’t know who the hell she is. She’s certainly not who Tony and Natasha fought to save and bring back.” at the mention of your mentors you flinch, recoil to a dark part of yourself that resents the person you have become.
“Listen” Sam walks towards you, his voice softer. “I know things have been tough, but you’ve gotta shake him off. You’ve gotta find yourself, the real you. The person we all know is in there somewhere desperate to get out but you won’t let her and I think you know what you have to do to let her free.”
~~~
Your hands shake, swallowing thickly around your tongue as the gravel crunches under your boots. The autumn chill had fully set in as it whips the leaves off the trees, the bright vibrant red causing your heart to ache for a different reason. You watch as one leaf flitters along with the wind, flipping and floating to land on the black granite stone before you.
“Hi, Tasha.” you huff at how weak your voice sounds, how lost you feel not having the one person you could turn too.
“Bet you’re looking down right now wanting to kick my ass.” your hold on the sunflowers tightens as if grasping on the stems gives you something to anchor yourself on as to not fall apart completely.
“And maybe Steve’s, but he’s an old man now and that’s frowned upon.. Not that you’d care.” you let out a hollow chuckle that contorts your face. And then you’re heaving, body shattering with sobs that dig your knees into the ground in front of the empty grave. A reminder that not everyone made it back home.
“I’m lost Nat, I’m so lost without him. I don’t know what to do, or who to trust again.. I’m nothing without him.” You crawl closer to the gravestone, the white block letters mocking you.
Gone, but always with us.
“But that’s not true is it, you’re gone. Tony’s gone. Stev...He..He left.” your lip wobbled dangerously as hot tear’s burned your eyes, even uttering his name felt heavy on your tongue. It stabs at what is left at your soul.
“You always said to be careful but I was so blinded by my own stupidity and love that I.. I..” your chest burned, the lack of air entering your lungs make your body ache. Muscles pulled tight and tense around your bones causing your skin to prickle harshly. Then you felt a weight on your back that was unyielding and firm as your ears rang it was then you realised the weight was the result of smooth black and gold vibranium rubbing against your spin.
“Breathe (Y/N), c’mon breath for me darlin. It’s okay.. It’s gonna be okay.” you’re not sure if it was the soothing words or the cool touch of Bucky’s vibranium hand touching you with such a firm yet gentle pressure that makes you fall back into him.
You had been held before, by your mother when you fell off your bike for the first time. By Tony when he found you half-buried in rubble after a rather dicey mission. By Natasha on a rather drunken girls night as you stumbled home shoes in hand giggling into her red locks. By Steve, oh were you held by Steve. But this, this was different. Never had you felt so protected, so safe. When Steve held you, your whole body was set ablaze. But with Bucky, your whole body became butter soft. Sliding up against him as he mumbled into the crown of your head.
“I’ve got you, I’ve got you darlin. It’s all going to be okay. I’m here now.” clinging to the soft grey of his jumper you cried and cried. Until the leaves stopped falling around you.
~~~
You sure you want to do this?” Sam looked over your head at Bucky, he had been asking you that question since the moment you entered the kitchen. And then in the elevator to the car park, then in the car driving into the little suburban row of houses. And again when you parked in front of the little yellow house.
“Jesus Sam, can you give it a rest? Your starting to annoy me!”
“I’m just making sure!”
“She said she’s sure, it’s her decision, not yours.”
“Is that why you brought that knife in your shoe Barnes, what you gonna jump a retired old man that’s real..”
“Oh bite me Wil..”
“Will you two just…”
“It’s nice to see not everything has changed” the three of you freeze, the third voice makes you turn to the now open door. The familiar cerulean eyes you had stared into countless times flashed at you. It makes the back of your neck crawl under his gaze, assessing the changes in you since that day he decided to tear apart your world.
“Would you like to come inside?” The question was broadly asked but you all knew who it was really for.
“Nah, me and Buck are gonna take a walk around the neighbourhood. Gotta make sure his old legs are fighting fit” You smirk as Bucky grumbles under his breath, shoving his hands further into his coat pockets. The tip of his nose turning red as the winter air stings at your cheeks, you watch slightly helplessly. Your eyes follow the two figures down the street before turning to meet Steve’s.
~~~
I hope you don’t mind I made us some tea.” You sit perched on the couch, like a bird ready to take flight at the slightest disturbance. That’s what you were now, a flightless bird still clinging onto the last branch as the tree continued to burn around you.
“Tea is fine.” your voice is monotone, eyes scanning around the room. Knickknacks of a life lived stung, not as much as you thought they would. But stung nevertheless, you watch as Steve shakily pours the tea into the cup. The brown liquid splashes dangerously for a moment and out of instinct you reach out to steady his hand. It’s frail and cold, skin pulled tight over bones, nothing like the strong hands that held you all those years ago. Once your cup was filled you cleared your throat.
“Do you have any..” But Steve was already pushing an open jar of honey towards you.
“You remembered?” you swallowed thickly, gently taking the slightly sticky mason jar from him.
“I never forgot, you always liked things a little sweet.” you couldn’t help the slight tug of your mouth.
“You cut your hair.” he muses, you sip your tea trying to compose yourself.
“Needed a change after what happened” a noise escapes Steve making you look up. Guilt, piles of it. Mountains buried for years as you break the last memory he has of you.
“I’m so sorr..”
“I hated you, you know.” Steve settles back into the armchair, head bowed with his hands clasped before him. Gone was your golden lover, now there was a man who had lived the life he had yearned for but broke yours into a thousand pieces in the process. Some of them still floating like ash around you.
“I hated you for so long, since the moment Bucky told me you were there that day you went back. I hated every day for the past two years.”
“Not as much as I hated myself.” a flare goes off within you.
“You made a decision Steve, you could have left her alone. But you didn’t.”
“No I didn’t” you stare into Steve’s eyes, you search his face. Trying to find the man you loved, the man you bled for. The man who you defined yourself for.
“It looks good, the hair. You look... different.”
“I feel different” you take another sip of tea, it was lukewarm and sat heavy in your stomach. “Did you get the life you wanted? Love? Family? Stability?”
“I did.”
“Was it worth it?” Steve looks at you for a long time, a slow smile spread across his mouth. You knew he was thinking back, reminiscing.
“It was, but,” he reaches across to you, taking both of your hands in his. Bringing them to his lips kissing your knuckles gently.
“I am so sorry for the pain I caused you, sweetheart. I never wanted to hurt you, but... Peggy, she was,”
“The love of your life, I know Steve.” you give him a small sad smile that really hits the final nail on the head.
“I’m not sure if I’ll ever truly forgive you for what you did to me, you broke me, Steve. In every way, a person can be. I don’t even know if I’ll be the same person when all the pieces get put back together. But I know a small part of me, and over time it will grow, is happy you got what you deserved. You fought for so long, I assumed with me by your side it would make the fighting easier.” You squeeze his hands gently.
“But you were always going to be the man out of time, you were meant to take that chance. As much as it kills me inside because I burned for you, Steve. So brightly it consumed me I didn’t realise what was truly going on right in front of me.” your feel your chest clench as Steve’s eyes gloss over.
“I really did love you, for those first few years, I really did think I could live in the modern world with you... Then finding Bucky and the snap. And you were gone for so long. I didn’t know how to live... Then I saw Peggy again and part of me thought I could have a life with her again, we weren’t even sure the stones were going to bring everyone back.”
“But they did… and here we are Steve.” Your tea was stone cold as you held Steve’s hands, both of you mentally drained at the reality of what you both endured.
“We named our daughter after you.” his voice is so quiet you almost miss it, you let out a watery chuckle.
“Really?”
“Yeah, you and Natasha, she’s named after two of the most important women in my life. The women who saved me in those first few years out of the ice, who helped save the world.”
“I’m sure Margaret loved that,” the bitterness is laced thick in your words, instantly you regret saying them. “I’m sorry that wasn’t fair.”
“She understood what I sacrificed to be back with her. She was the one who suggested your name.” You feel your legs shake slightly, the room suddenly becoming too hot to bear.
“She knew about me?”
“I told her everything, she wasn’t best pleased with the way I handled our last conversation” Steve gives a wry chuckle before continuing. “She said she owed a lot to you, for putting me back together. She also knew I left you in the best hands I could trust, we owed our lives to you. Now you have to go and live the one you deserve, not for anyone else but you” There was that flash of determination in Steve’s eyes you were so familiar with, the one that was always present before charging into battle, into the unknown. That it made you surge forward wrapping your arms around his bone shoulders tears blinding your vision.
“What if I don’t know how to do that” Steve chuckles, wrapping his arms around you rubbing his hands up and down your back.
“Sweetheart, if anyone can do it. You can”
~~~
Sweet and thick, the air flowed around you like nectar. Offset slightly by the cool sharp contrast of the lake lapping at your toes. The Yellow summer dress rucked up to your thighs trying to get as much of the breeze on your skin as possible, sweat trickled down your neck as you turned your face up to the sky humming. The only thing cutting thought the sweet peaceful summer afternoon was the soft footfalls walking towards you and the soft grunt of a body dropping to your left.
“It’s hot as hell out here” Bucky grunted, you cracked an eye open glancing at him before closing it again.
“Well, you are wearing jeans and combat boots in August” you bluntly pointed out.
“Yeah but then how else am I gonna convey I’m mean and scary as hell” you didn’t need to open your eyes to know he was grinning like the Cheshire cat, just as he didn’t need you to open your eyes too see them rolling under your lids.
“You’re as mean and scary as Winnie the Pooh”
“Are you calling me fat?” you scoff finally opening your eyes to look at the blue eyes glittering before you.
“You are a lot thicker than you used to be Barnes”
“That’s because Wanda makes such good food” he groans falling back to lean on his elbows “It would be rude to refuse her”
“I’m sure she’d get over it” you grin nudging his calf with your foot, he grumbles for a moment before you laps into a peaceful silence.
“You doing okay?” the gravelly and sincere tone makes you tear your eyes away from a young starling taking flight off a low branch. The blue eyes you are met with are filled with nothing but affection, concern but also respect, the cool breeze whips around you again and you smile, as brilliant as the sun that shines down on you bathing you in the hopeful promise of tomorrow.
~~~
#steve rogers#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers imagine#captain america x reader#captain america imagine#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes imagine#winter soldier x reader#winter soldier imagine#steve rogers angst#captain america angst#writemarvelousthings#my writing
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