#then a distant second is Ezra Fell

[fahbee]

Whoever first gave human!AU Aziraphale the surname of “Eastgate” deserves a medal.

#Aziraphale Eastgate is my favorite #then a distant second is Ezra Fell #Aziraphale Fell never even crossed the finish line

[kazoosandfannypacks]

sabezra week day 3: what if: what if sabine hadn't gone back to help ahsoka and left with ezra instead?

chapter word count: 1.6K

a/n: this is based on the idea i had a few weeks ago and knew i'd inevitably end up writing. i fully intended to post this as a oneshot, but i've already written a second chapter and have a third in the works as we speak!

taglist: @laughingphoenixleader @accidental-spice @kanerallels @piraterefrigerator @jedi-nurse @sabezraweek @dootchster {if you'd like to be added to or removed from my sabezra taglist, let me know!} Also tagging a few people who were interested in my post about this fic, but just for this first chapter. If you'd like to be tagged on further updates to this fic or added to my sabezra taglist, let me know; I'd love to add you! @mataitos @alphaofdarkness @queenbuttercup @lady-grey-1993 @sassygirl579 @redroverrider @light-umbra @commander-tech

also on ao3!

Chapter 1: Ukor B'ukor

 Sabine and Ezra stood side by side at the edge of the tower on Perida, staring in disbelief at the ever-widening gap between them and the Star Destroyer.

 "I can't make that jump," he shook his head.

 "Yes you can," Sabine nodded. She hadn't come this far to bring Ezra home only to fall short now.

 "I appreciate the confidence…"

 After all the times Ahsoka had told her not to make excuses, Sabine wasn't gonna take any from Ezra. She'd seen him and Kanan do this a hundred times, and there was no reason it wouldn't work this time.

 "No," Sabine took a few steps back, "I push you first, then you pull me across."

 He looked back at her, and she nodded.

 "I can do this," she said.

 He looked back at the ship that was slowly moving further and further away from them.

 "Ezra," Sabine said, "the longer you hesitate, the harder this gets. Come on!"

 Without another word— Ezra was wise enough by now to know there was no use arguing with her— he turned quickly and ran past her, then knelt to the ground for a running start.

 "Ready?" she asked.

 He nodded.

 "Go!"

 She watched him run past her, almost in disbelief that he'd trusted another one of her wild ideas. Though she knew that the leap of faith was probably scarier for Ezra to do than it was for her to watch, she couldn't quite be sure. After all she went through to get him back, it would be a tragedy if now they fell short— no pun intended.

 It wasn't until she could feel the Force pulling on Ezra through her that she realized how weighty this responsibility was: he'd put his life in her hands here. He was counting on her once again, and once again, she wouldn't fail him.

 He hadn't quite landed in the hangar, but he'd gotten a firm grip on the platform below it, and as soon as he'd regained his bearings, he jumped up onto the floor. He was quick to disarm one of the troopers, sending him tumbling off the ledge. Before Ezra could get to the other trooper on the landing, Sabine did, ever at the ready with her blasters.

 Ezra looked back across the way to her.

 "Come on," he called, "your turn!"

 She quickly ran back to get a running start, and saw Ahsoka in the distance, battling the troopers they'd been facing.

 Sabine looked back at Ahsoka, and Ahsoka looked at her, and time froze.

 "I can't leave you here," Sabine thought.

 "Go," Ahsoka nodded, and though it was barely more than a whisper, she could hear it.

 "May the force be with you," Sabine smiled at Ahsoka, but their bond was cut off by the distant cries of her name.

 She nodded, turned, and ran to the edge of the tower. After all this time of Ezra counting on her, it was her turn to count on him.

"Here goes nothing— and everything," she thought, knowing that as soon as she was airborne, the only hope she had of landing on the ship was Ezra. She closed her eyes, threw herself forward, and took the scariest leap of faith of her life.

 For a moment, she felt free, weightless, alive— but it wasn't long before the panic kicked in and she realized there was nothing beneath her, and she was beginning to fall, to drop to the surface of the planet below, cursing that she didn't have her jetpack with her.

 And then she felt a presence all around her, strong, warm, almost like home: the Force, Ezra, pulling her up, bringing her closer to the ship. It all happened so fast: one minute, she was falling to her doom; the next, she was hurtling into Ezra's arms.

 He caught her in his embrace so fast and so hard that she almost sent him tumbling backwards, and her along with him. Instead, they steadied themselves against each other, his hands gripping her shoulders.

 "I've got you," he said, "I've got you."

 She looked up at the relieved smile on his face, and the rich blueness in his eyes, and smiled as well.

 "We made it," she laughed.

 "We did it," Ezra laughed.

 Out of excitement, she wrapped her arms around him, and he did the same, losing themselves for a moment in each other's embrace.

 She'd quickly gotten used to the feeling of his stupid fluffy beard against her cheek, and now she couldn't help realizing again how strong he was now, as his arms tightened around her, and she gripped him tighter as well.

 "We did it," Sabine thought, "I'm bringing him home."

 She could already picture all the reunions to follow. Chopper and Zeb would no doubt be ready with quick remarks to hide how much they'd missed him, though Sabine knew full well the stockpile of helmets Zeb had tucked away for Ezra in their old room in The Ghost. She also anticipated how all the caution and regret that'd followed Hera these last few years would quickly melt away as she'd welcome her lost son home.

 And, of course, a few special first meetings were in order as well. Jacen almost thought Ezra was the stuff of legends by now, but to get to meet him, maybe even learn a thing or two from him— it would be good for them both. And, of course, Sabine was ready for the teasing when Ezra found out she'd adopted a Loth Cat, though she wasn't quite ready yet for Ezra's reaction to Murley's nickname, Cyare Kaysh Mirsh Solus, being partly because of how much he reminded her of Ezra— and especially after Ezra found out what those words mean in Mando'a.

 But for now, she was glad that the only catching up to do was still just her and Ezra. After a decade of "what if" and "why" and "how," she'd finally found certainty. No more wondering if she could've stopped him. No more kicking herself in the foot for words she'd never said. No more lying awake at night thinking she was foolish for even hoping he'd survived. 

 Now all of her hopes proved real, because here he was— in her arms— with the same smile and the scars on his cheek and those eyes that were a shade of blue no painting could replicate.

 "We're going home," Ezra said, as if knowing exactly what she was thinking, "I always knew I could count on you."

 She watched his face fall, though, as he turned away from her and back toward the tower, and she followed his concerned gaze to see Ahsoka, still in battle, alone and surrounded.

 "I should've gone back for her," Sabine said, taking a step away from Ezra, "I should've stayed…."

 "Sabine, no," Ezra said, grabbing her by the arms, "our path is different from hers. Ahsoka knew what choice she was making, and she knew it would give us time to escape."

 "But I should be down there with her," Sabine said.

 "Your path doesn't lie on Perida," Ezra's tone lowered as his eyes caught hers, "and I didn't spend ten years waiting for you just to leave without you."

 She shook her head and smiled, then deflected whatever feelings her smile would betray by looking away, back at Ahsoka.

 Together they watched as the enemies overtook Ahsoka, surrounded her on all sides. Almost as if by instinct, Sabine stepped closer to Ezra, and he wrapped an arm around her for comfort, bringing her head to rest on his shoulder. 

 As the troopers closed in on the fallen Ahsoka, then held their ground, Morgan stood over her, as if ready to strike the final blow. Ahsoka responded with the unexpected: she knocked her off her feet with a force push, and with the same motion swirled her lightsaber around herself completely, carving a hole in the floor beneath her and sending herself down into it.

 Sabine and Ezra leaned closer to the ledge, trying to see what happened as the Star Destroyer pulled farther and farther away. Several troopers rained down barrages of blasterfire into the hole, but to no avail. Lower in the side of the tower the wall burst open, as if weakened by lightsaber and then broken through— which is exactly what happened, Sabine reasoned, as Ahsoka jumped through it. At the same moment, a ship pulled around the tower— Huyang must've gotten that old rustbucket working— and caught Ahsoka as she jumped, landing her safely in the open hatch on top.

 "She's gonna be fine," Sabine laughed.

 "She always is," Ezra said.

 The ship flew over their heads, above the Star Destroyer.

 "She's landing on top of us" Sabine said, looking up, "close enough that tracking beacons won't pick up on the ship. She'll lie low until she can get out of here, and meet us back on Lothal."

 "How do you even know that?" Ezra asked.

 "I think I can feel it," Sabine said, "it must be a Force thing."

 Ezra laughed, "careful there, Mandalorian. You're starting to sound like a Jedi."

 "I wouldn't say that yet," Sabine said, "I still have a lot to figure out."

 "Me too," Ezra said, "not just about the Force, but everything else too. So much has changed…"

 "We'll figure it out together," Sabine said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

 "We always did make quite a team," Ezra said.

 Sabine looked up at him with a smile, which only widened in response to Ezra's smile, and the knowing but still questioning look in his eyes.

 One last time before they had to find a place to hide, Sabine found her way into Ezra's embrace as they pulled each other in for another hug. 

#sabezraweek2023 #sabezra #sabine wren #ezra bridger #ezrabine #ahsoka series #star wars rebels #ahsoka spoilers #kazzy writes #fanfic #kazzy writes fanfic #sabezra fanfic

[mad2001-4]

Sequel to the story above. Just some self indulgent dad!Jeremiah that I've been craving.

Possible Triggers: Mentions of death and wanting death

---------------------------------

Ezra was absolutely worn-out, his panicked breaths had long subsided, but it didn't stop his chest from aching from the previous attack and wails. The alarm still rang overhead but his mind felt fuzzy and bogged down, hardly able to focus on it. It sounded so distant. He even started to question if he'd be better off letting an inmate find him, let them end his misery right then and there.

He determined it'd at least ease the awful uncomfortableness his body currently ached with. He'd be spared a fate similar to his father, grandfather, great-great uncle, all of them. A life full of humiliations, failures, and--worst of all-- insanity. He assumed at least. The teen couldn't deny he felt he already lived up to the self fulfilling prophecy--and oh how he loathed that term, the mere though making his stomach coil in nothing short of fear.

He surely was a humiliation to the Arkham name. Ill at the sight of blood, how was he expected to be a doctor? A pathetic little teenager, having hid at the first sound of the alarm.

Would it be a service to Gotham if he disappeared now? Or to himself perhaps? Was it selfish of him to even consider this way out?

He didn't get to think on this for long hearing footsteps rushing towards him. He ducked his head back in his knees, as if hoping he'd be invisible to the eye while sunk down to the floor, back to the wall. Hearing them stop however, he knew he wasn't overlooked.

"Ezra," the teen jerked surprised hearing the voice much closer than he anticipated, closer enough that it took no effort at all to hear it even with the alarm still above and the almost clogged feeling in his ears. He looked up, pupils the size of pin needles. His gaze quickly found his father's, and things instantly felt safe again, seeing Jeremiah kneeled down in front of him. A whimper tore from the back of his throat, a sobs swelling up again, just threatening to spill out.

"D-dad..." he croaked out, only now realizing just how scratchy his voice was, having only been used to cry for the past hour or so.

"I'm so glad I found you," Jeremiah sighed, hugging his son close to his chest, "I was so worried. So worried someone had gotten to you. Are you alright? Why are you on the ground?" he gently murmured, blindly brushing his son's hair away from his face a few moments before pulling him a bit away to look him over for any injuries.

Ezra sucked in a hard breath, whimpering a second time from the way it felt on the back of his throat, "N-no... no. I'm ok. I'm not hurt," he assured, voice barely managing above a mumble despite the boy's best efforts, "just... just got scared.." his gaze fell past his father's shoulder and instead on to the room that had led to his panic attack in seeing its destruction.

It took a moment but Jeremiah followed his son's eyes behind himself, taking only a few seconds to connect the unspoken pieces, "I see.... why didn't you just come to my office? You would've been safe there."

Ezra felt his heart pick up again. His father's office was a safe haven, until a breakout occurred at least. He felt tears swell up again, blurring his vision over. He quickly directed them down in shame, the floor at least all looked the same.

"Th-they would've expected it.... they would've found me, got to me. I-I would've died."

Ezra furrowed his brows lightly, wasn't that just what he'd been hoping for? To be taken out of his misery, even if slow and painful as whatever inmate found him first would've liked. His tears brimmed up further, weakly managing out, "I don't want to die..." his breath released itself shakily as he repeated in a broken whisper, "I don't want to die.... I don't want to die yet.."

Jeremiah frowned gently in confusion at the, seemingly out of the blue, statement, "Well I.... I'd hope not.." he looked his son over again, this time searching for any sign of what led him to this conclusion, this conclusion Jeremiah had hoped was obvious, "Ezzie," he murmured gently, concern and perplexity in his soft tone. It was enough to send the tears pouring forward once more, Ezra desperately wrapping his arms around himself.

"I'm sorry..." he whimpered, "I'm sorry... I just... I meant.." the fact he couldn't even find the right way to explain himself produced another whimper that was followed with a fresh cry, offering more apologies in place of an explanation, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry..!"

Jeremiah's frown only seemed to deepen, but ge wrapped his arms around Ezra again, and pulled his face to his chest once more, soothingly stroking his hair, just as he used to when Ezra was a fussy toddler fending off sleep, "Shh... shh, dear. It's ok. I'm not even sure what you're sorry for," he hummed gently.

Ezra hiccupped in trying to suck a breath in, "I-I'm sorry," he insisted again regardless, "I'm sorry I'm a humiliation, a-and scared, and for even thinking I wanted to die. I don't! I don't want to die...!" there was an almost frantic edge to the teenager's words, Jeremiah could only feel surprised as the words sunk in completely.

He looked down at the pitiful mess of a boy, trying not to break into another hysterical fit, tears cascading down his face that had brightened in color once more--particularly on his cheeks-- clinging for dear life to his father's shirt as his head lay limply against him. Jeremiah rubbed his face, fending off his own urge to cry at the state his child was in.

Ezra didn't need to see Jeremiah break down as well with the thoughts polluting his mind. He needed his father's comfort, a luxury Jeremiah hadn't gotten to experience in his own childhood, which only made him more determined to push through and provide for his son.

"No need for all that," he whispered, pressing his mouth to the top of Ezra's hair, already feeling the heat radiating off his son, still he let his soft words vibrate against the disheveled mess of sandy brown hair, "You aren't a humiliation. There's nothing wrong with being scared, and you certainly aren't going to die. I'm going to make sure of that. I will protect you until I can't anymore."

He hugged Ezra closer feeling the teen lean further into him, muffling another wail. Jeremiah knew he'd sit there as long as it took until the sobs stopped racking his son's body, allowing him and his thoughts to be at peace.

#sfw #dc oc #batman oc #dc next gen oc #original character #original child character #jeremiah arkham #ezra arkham #arkham #arkham asylum #sequel to one shot #dad jeremiah #son oc #mentions of death

[brandyllyn]

Make dreams truths

Dark Ezra (Prospect) x f!reader

Summary: Ezra had been a killer. Was known to be a rogue. Occasionally even a degenerate... Words: 4300. [Read it on AO3]

My Masterlist

Rating: Explicit Warnings: somnophilia. dubcon / noncon. smut. hella smut. oral (f&m). PiV. fingering. cumplay. knife. dead dove: do not eat.

A/N: I think this is actually not entirely out of character for what we know of pre-movie Ezra but it’s definitely not a good side of him. Heed the warnings.

The tent was quiet but Ezra was wide awake, hands stacked behind his head while he stared at the canvas roof. A scant few inches away you slept, the soft sounds of your breathing filling the tent and air around him. Close enough that he could reach out and touch you.

It hadn’t been intentional, this sharing of living quarters. When this rotation had started you had your own tent, as did the remainder of the team, each in their own little abodes of solitude ringing a common area. But a storm had put an end to that, taking with it a third of the structures. And so here you were, in a pile of blankets tucked between his cot and the tent wall.

There had been other options, of course. Other men who had jumped at the chance, hungry eyes roving over you when their offers had been made. Ezra’s hands clenched into fists and he took a deep calming breath as he remembered. Of six men, four had been able to offer you a place to lay your pillow - and he’d been pleasantly surprised when you took his. He hadn’t missed the assessing looks from the others each night when he held the tent flap back for you, the way their greed and jealousy tainted the toxic air of the planet even further.

You were a dove among snakes, and well you knew it. Your delicate fingers useful in the harvesting well beyond even his own clumsy attempts. The mining itself required muscle, heft and weight and work to find the dig sites. But the extraction, the small movements and fragile tenderness to obtain the gems…

That called for a woman’s tender touch.

You were safe - as safe as anyone could be on the Green. Safe with these men who circled you like writhing asps, waiting for you to fall into their embrace. Their greed outweighed their lust for the moment, and every sure touch of your hands on a gem was another thousand credits for each of them. But it didn’t follow that just because you were useful that it didn’t mean they didn’t want you, or that they might not turn their fangs on you given half the chance….

You had not, as yet, given them the chance. But with your tent gone you had needed to venture into a snake’s den. To curl up with a serpent of your choosing.

And you had chosen him.

He had thought, nay hoped, that you might join him in his bunk that first night. He thought he had been clear that you were welcome, turning back the corner of the scratchy blankets and letting it sit invitingly while he used a bathing wipe to remove the day’s grime. But when he’d turned around you were on the floor, tucking your legs beneath your own blanket and thanking him again for his hospitality.

The bunk was small, admittedly, and your pallet did look quite spacious - if not actually more comfortable. But as the spins drug on you had not invited him to your bed either.

You made a soft sound, the blankets rustling when you reseated yourself. Sleep had never come easy to him and tonight was no different. His mind raced to and fro, picking up scattered thoughts and discarding them just as easily. It had always been like that for him, focus attained through necessity rather than desire.

Desire, that was not a word for lonely nights like this. Not with your soft body within his reach. He knew it better than anyone on this blasted moon. Knew the curves and lines, the dips and valleys. No one but him got to see you outside of your suit, see the sweep of your back or the length of your leg when you scrubbed yourself off in the evening. Even the light hairs dusting your arms had been a revelation, soft beneath his fingers one night when he had laid his bare hand on you to gain your attention.

Skin, even the frailest touch, was a rarity on the Green. And so much of it was within his reach.

If he held his hand out, a little to the side, he’d be able to feel the heat rising from your body. You were practically in bed with him, just a foot lower than his own perch. It was easy to close his mind and imagine, to drown himself in what it would be like to have you truly with him. Your skin and his…

You hid your assets from the others, a cap covering your hair during meals, careful application of some dark makeup to make you look haggard and wane. Not that it mattered that much, a woman’s body was all that was required to strike a man’s lust in the reaches. But Ezra knew what you looked like without it. Knew the arch of your cheek and the fullness of your lips. Knew exactly how attractive you would be even compared with the finest women in the galaxy.

All of that beauty, a fingertip away.

He could feel himself getting hard and sighed, reaching down and roughly palming his cock. Was it worth it? He had nothing nearby to gather his emissions and the thought of trying to sleep in sticky wet briefs was as unappealing as the idea of getting up to fetch something.

You moved again and his mind wandered. He could come in you. That would solve his dilemma. In your mouth or cunt… or hell, this was his own dark reverie, he could come in that pretty ass of yours. On your knees, your back tilted just right while he fucked himself inside you. Would you let him? The you that lived in the recesses of his mind would. She let him do any number of degenerate things to her body, things he had only before paid people do. But you, the you the flounced nude through his imaginings, begged him for those same actions.

He groaned, annoyed with himself. He was hard now, his aching cock a reminder of the lasciviousness of his thoughts. He resigned himself to the rough scratch of the blanket as a vessel when he heard a sound from you. Something he’d never heard before.

A moan.

It was soft, deep. Curling through the tent and settling into the space behind his jaw. He froze, fingers just barely edging under the band of his briefs, his own heartbeat nearly drowning out his thoughts. Waited to see if you might do it again - provide an aural accompaniment to his depraved actions of the evening.

The next noise was a needy whimper.

He captured it, reeling it onto the spool of his fantasies and allowing it to settle in its own alcove of his mind. It was the noise you would make while he flicked at your clit. The sound of you while he sucked on your pert nipples. The shattered note that would break from you just before you begged him to fuck you.

His fingers were wrapped around his cock now, squeezing slightly and tugging himself in short strokes. He remained silent, ears straining. While his actions might be a distant second to his desires, it was more than he was expecting when he turned the lights off this evening.

"Ezra…"

Pleasure shot through him and he squeezed the base of his cock hard, stopping himself from coming right then. He hadn’t imagined it. He hadn’t. Even his own addled consciousness couldn’t have imagined that breathy plea. Whatever somnolent world you found yourself in, he was the star. Just as you were the luminary of his own. He turned to his side, careful to be quiet, careful not to break you free from the shackles of sleep that held you.

You were right there. One arm thrown over your head, blankets pushed to your waist, the other hand resting on your stomach. He watched you in the dim filtered light, watched the slight movement as your thighs rubbed together and you moaned again.

The little dove was dreaming of him - and a fine dream it seemed to be.

He turned all the way to his stomach, pulling one arm beneath him and resting his chin on his fist, the other reaching down to hover over your body. Did he dare? Did he dare defile you with his touch? You took the decision away, you back arching on the next breathy gasp and his fingers brushed over your hardened nipples.

Your groans wove together, a symphony of need and desire. His hand followed you down, circling through your tank top, flicking gently back and forth and then softly rolling the puckered flesh between his fingers. He should wake you, break you from your dream and offer you the reality of his body.

But he didn’t.

Laying next to you, above you, he watched his fingers trace upwards until they meet soft bare flesh. Running the tips of them under the edge of your top. Your lips parted, face turning towards him, and he wondered if you were really awake. Offering yourself to his hands and his touch. He trailed his fingers up, over the tendons of your throat, caressing your jaw, and finally stopping to rest them on the plush curve of your lips. He tugged and your mouth opened slightly, enough for him to slip his forefinger inside, feel the hot, wet warmth of you encase him. Venturing further, he touched your tongue and his vision went blurry when your lips closed around the digit and you sucked briefly on it.

His own breathing sounded harsh to his ears, unbearably loud in the near silence of the tent. His finger fell from your mouth and he cupped your chin lightly, tilting your face towards his and whispering your name - searching for any sign of wakefulness. But you continued to sleep, not so much as a flutter of your eyelashes in response.

He removed his touch from you gently, carefully. Now that he had committed to his course of action he was loath to see it come to an untimely end. He shifted in his bunk, sliding downwards slightly, adjusting himself so he could roll his cock into the hard bar at the edge. It wasn’t optimal, it wasn’t you, but it would do for the moment.

Your chosen serpent, uncoiling. Watching. Hunting.

Ezra studied your body with an almost dispassionate gaze. To an outside observer he could be considering an aurelac dig, or a piece of machinery. But his eyes were bright, his breath coming in unsteady shudders. You were a puzzle at the moment, one he needed to twist and pry at to find his way towards completion.

He wanted to see your breasts, but tugging at your top was likely to wake you. Your blankets were draped over your waist - easy to move - but the influx of cool air might stir you from your slumber. The other things he wanted… well those would definitely rouse you.

In the end, you made his decision for him, turning away with a soft mumble. Your back to him and kicking your feet out. Now the soft swell of your ass was exposed to the cool night air, the plain white cotton of your underwear visible to where it disappeared between your thighs. His lips parted as he reached out, cupping you gently in his palm, feeling the warmth even through the cloth covering you.

It was easy from there to let his fingers dip further, to burrow into the cleft and drag downwards until he was nudging at the soft flesh of your thighs. He stroked softly, repeatedly, small little pets over your cunt - resisting the urge to twist the fabric away and plunge his fingers inside of you. You would be wet, he could already feel the slight dampness soaking through your underwear. Whatever you were dreaming about - and Kevva he hoped it was still him - it was making your body weep with want.

He caressed your thigh, urging you to move, to change positions again, and he held his breath when you did so. Rolling towards him and fully on to your back with one leg bent, knee resting in line with your hip, blankets abandoned. Fuck he couldn’t stop himself, slipping from the bunk and carefully placing one knee between your spread legs, the other on the outside of your thigh. He felt guilt, for a moment, when he pulled his pocket knife from the belt hanging off the edge of the bed. When he carefully slipped it beneath the fabric of your underwear and sliced through it with minimal effort. He knew for a fact you had limited pairs with you.

But now he could touch you directly, feel your slick on the tips of his fingers as he played with your cunt and any regrets he might have had quickly vanished. He leaned forward onto his free hand, settling it next to your head, careful to keep his body from touching yours. You writhed in your sleep, a breathy moan falling from your lips, and then what he wanted to hear.

"Ezra…"

He couldn’t have kept himself from you for all the stars in the sky. Gently, smoothly, he slid his middle finger inside of you. Felt your heat and slick surround him. Felt your body squeeze him and pull him in deeper. Fuck you felt good, so tight on the relatively small girth of his finger. He could already imagine how you would feel on his cock. How you would have to stretch to accommodate him.

His jaw worked while he watched you, watched your brow furrow and your lips part as he worked you open. Carefully, oh so carefully, he lowered his mouth until it hovered just over yours. Held his breath and tasted the pants of air that fell from you. His body strained with the effort, every muscle urging him to press down, press you down into the blankets, let his body cover yours.

But he restrained. He wasn’t ready for you to be awake yet. There was still a chance you might tell him no.

Instead he regretfully pulled his fingers from your warmth, smiling to himself when your hips rolled upwards to chase them. The disappointed mumble that fell from your lips. "Shh," he whispered to himself, shifting his weight down your body, "soon little dove. Just let me…"

It was difficult, you were not settled in a way to make room for his body and he didn’t want to risk transposing you into something more convenient. Instead he laid his body next to yours, propping one hand between your spread legs and arching himself over your thighs.

You tasted sweet.

Maybe it had been too long since he had the taste of another on his tongue. Maybe it was the clandestine nature of the evening. Maybe it was just actually you… whatever it was he drew his tongue through your folds and couldn’t help the low moan that vibrated from him.

His eyes never left you as he licked at your center, staring over the rise of your stomach, your breasts, watching your face. This wasn’t about pleasure, not really. If he was going to bring you to pleasure this way it would wake you for sure. No, this was about learning your body. About having the taste and feel and smell of you filling his senses.

This was about seeing how delicately he could balance you on a razor’s edge before he was inevitably wounded by the task.

He learned every dip, every crevasse. Pressed the tip of his tongue to your aching hole and felt your hips arch beneath him. Swirled it around your clit for a moment and heard your soft whimper. Rubbed his lips along yours in the most secret of kisses, conscious of how the stubble dotting his jaw rasped against your skin.

It wasn’t enough.

It had been several minutes since you last called out his name. Several minutes of your breathy whimpers but not the dulcet tenor of your tongue wrapping around the syllables that hung his identity on him like a chain.

He ached for it.

Slowly, he drug himself away from your heat. With one hand he reached over his shoulder, fisting the fabric and pulling, tossing his shirt to the side once he was free of it. His pants followed quickly and he knelt next to you, hand seeking the knife he had tossed to the side earlier. With two fingers he carefully lifted the hem of your shirt, sliding the sharp blade beneath and watching the fabric part over its deadly sheen.

Oh Kevva, you were gorgeous. Bare below him, the tatters of your clothing perfectly framing your body. He hesitated with the blade near your shoulders, turning it slightly and lightly touching it to your neck. To the vein he knew pulsed life through you. So vulnerable beneath him. So trusting to sleep so soundly.

He could do anything to you.

With a grimace he closed the knife. He was not a good man, but he was not that one either.

Carefully he positioned himself over your body, his knees resting on each side of your stomach. He reached down with one hand, pressing his cock until the head just touched the skin of your chest. A slight shift and even in the low light he could see the trail of his own cum glisten on your skin, trailing from his cock, easing and preparing your body for when he moved back up. He was hypnotized, unable to tear his eyes away from the way his hardness contrasted to your softness. His cock almost grotesque against your tender delicacy.

Another shift in position and he could rest some of his weight on one hand, the other continuing to hold just the tip of himself to you. Painting your ribs with his precum. Drawing designs into the swell of your breasts. Nudging against your nipple and retreating until a thin line was stretched between the two points.

It was entrancing.

A slight shift further and he was leaning over you, pressing his cock to your lower lip, sighing to himself when your mouth opened ever so slightly and he could push forward until he met the hard edge of your teeth.

"Open for me, little dove," he groaned, pressing his thumb to your jaw. "I seek only paradise."

Your chin followed the pressure of his fingers and he slipped inside. The soft flesh of your tongue met his cock, the give of the muscle cradling him. The sight was almost too much for him. That beautiful, warm, perfect fucking mouth wrapped around his cock. His shaft twitched, his balls drawing up slightly. Only his quick reflexes kept him from coming on the spot, one hand reaching down to squeeze the base of his cock painfully as he pulled himself away from you.

You licked your lips and he squeezed harder, closing his eyes to block out the sight of you spread beneath him. Cautiously, with just one finger, he traced along the soft bow of your lips, wetting the digit before trailing it down the column of your throat.

Your heartbeat was fast, erratic.

He grinned, shifting his weight downwards, gently urging your thighs further apart with one hand while he held his body away from yours with the other. He settled there, his cock just barely nudging at your cunt, his mouth lowering to hiss into your ear.

"How long have you been awake, dove?"

Your hands lifted and clenched on his back, pulling him down to you and he allowed you your wish, sliding his cock inside you in the same movement. You gasped and your nails dug into his skin, urging him further. Ezra felt his lips pull back, his teeth sinking into your neck.

The dove was well and truly caught now.

He didn’t hold himself back, fucking up into your wet warmth hard, feeling himself touch the very heart of you. Your gasp into his ear was music and he repeated the motion just to hear the notes turn into a melody of whimpers and cries.

"You didn’t answer my question," he sucked your earlobe into his mouth while he murmured his words. Worrying the soft flesh between his teeth. "How long have you been enjoying my ministrations? Allowing me to debauch you?" He bit down hard on the word and you rewarded him with a sigh of his name.

"Your… your mouth," you manage to gasp out and he groaned, pressing his face to your neck. You had let him hold a knife to you. Use your body as a canvas for his weeping cock. Opened your mouth and allowed him to…

He jerked his body away and gripped your hips tight, unwrapping your legs from his waist and lifting you. Shoving you. Throwing you across the edge of his cot and pressing a hand to your spine to bend you over.

"What a pretty sight you are." His hand trailed down, pulling at the remains of your shirt and tossing it to the side. Your knees slid apart without his prompting and he stroked your thigh while he muttered his praise into your skin. "Good girl."

There was no mistaking the low moan at his words and he filed the information away for later. Nor could he fail to notice the clench of your muscles when he slid inside you again. He let his head fall back, closing his eyes and digging small indentations on your hips with the touch of his fingers.

"Laying here beside me, moaning my name, letting me touch you…" The sound of his hips snapping into yours was filling the tent. The wet suck of your cunt around his cock. He jerked on your shoulder, pulling you upright and wrapping both of his arms around you. Enclosing you in the coils of his body. His hand was wide enough to fully enclose your throat. Your own rose to grip it, wrapping your fingers around his forearm and pulling.

He tutted in your ear, gripping you harder. "This is exactly what you wanted and you are going to take it."

He could look down your body from this position, see your breasts bouncing as he fucked his cock into you, one of his hands pulling sharply on your nipple. The pretty spread of your thighs, even his own flesh when he pulled himself out of you just before ramming home again.  He let out a soft hum and pressed his cheek to yours. "Are you sure you don’t want to put those fingers to better use?"

One hand stayed on his arm but the other… he watched as the other dropped between your thighs. Fingers dipping downwards and then settling over your clit in sharp, jerky motions. You clenched down on him and he rewarded you with an open-mouth kiss on your cheek.

"Tell me pretty dove, what manner of serpent makes you sing?"

You made a strangled sound and he released you just slightly, allowing you to pull in a gasp of air. At the same time he delved his other hand between your parted thighs, knocking your hand out of the way. Circling where his cock is still pumping inside of you before rising higher. He captured your clit between two fingers, rubbing back and forth in time with the thrust of his hips.

"Ezra," the sound of his name is wrenched from you. A benediction, an offering, a prayer tossed carelessly into the darkness. He was no god, but he could certainly see the appeal of veneration. Of your veneration.

"You are exquisite," he groaned, feeling his balls draw up. "Can you fly for me? Toss yourself into the pit with me, my soiled dove?" He pinched your clit between his fingers and rolled it in quick circles and you convulsed. You would have screamed but his hand on your throat cut the noise off, his eyelids fluttering closed as he enjoyed the feeling of taking you apart with his cock and his fingers.

"Come here," he pulled at your shoulder, leaning back on his heels, "show me how you worship."

Your body was still shaking from your own pleasure but you took him into your mouth without hesitation. His cock sliding over your lips and tongue. His hands helped you when you faltered, digging into your neck and pulling you down until he slid all the way into your throat.

"Oh dearest dove I-"

Your muscles spasmed around his cock and he came. White flashing at the corner of his vision and his fingers clenching tight to your skin, cutting off your airways while he spilled into your mouth.

Le petit mort, they called it.

The little death.

Ezra had traded in death more than once in his ventures. Had seen the light go out of another’s eyes at his hand. He did not enjoy it, but would indulge when necessity dictated his actions. But this…

Holding your life in his hands while he was reborn.

This he enjoyed. This he had every intention of indulging himself in whenever the opportunity presented itself. Engorging himself even.

Your eyes met his and he stroked his thumb over the corner of your mouth, loosening his hold on your throat and catching a drop of his cum and pushing it back between your lips. Eyelashes lowering as you didn’t hesitate to take him, sucking on him and holding his gaze.

Yes, you had chosen your serpent. His venom still glistened on your lips.

He would have to see that you did not regret it.

.

.

Ezra Taglist:

@beautyagegoodnesssize , @iwantadecentblogname , @pintsizemama , @codenamewife , @michaelperry , @qwtyy , @thisgirl-knm ,​

@pascals-cat, @hotspacepilots , @rosiefridayrogersunday 

Permanent Taglist:

(y’all just remember you asked to be on this list)

#ezra x you #ezra x reader #ezra prospect #ezra prospect x reader #prospect film #smut #somno tw #somno

[that-sarcastic-writer]

Coach (1)

Fandom: Dylan O'Brien

Pairing: AU Dylan x Fem!Reader

Mini series summary: Being a newly single mom of two kids wasn't exactly easy. And love wasn't exactly part of your agenda. So, should you avoid lusting over your son's baseball coach? Absolutely. But with a man like Dylan, could you really resist? Probably not.

Warnings: nothing major yet, small sexual innuendo, mentions of cheating and divorce

WC: 1.9k

A/N: a yes, to those who have been following me for a while may recognize this title, it's my old Dylan AU fic. Yes I decided to continue it. Updates will come periodically, because I write spontaneously and I cant guarantee quick updates. But I do promise I wont wait a whole year to update. And since I did some slight updates in the first 2 parts I decided to archive the old ones and repost them again. So yeah, if you've read them before great, give it another read, my writing is much better now I promise and if you're new welcome, I hope you like this mini series.

(You are here, part 2, part 3)

Dylan stood by the side of the large field, near the home plate, occasionally yelling out suggestions and pointing out mistakes to the young boys. 

"Ezra! You have to watch the ball! C'mon! I know you can do better!" He called out to the blonde boy standing on the home plate with a bat in hand. Dylan then turned his attention to the dark haired boy with the baseball mitt and ball in hand.

"Roman! What's going on, buddy? You gotta focus, alright? You gotta work on that throw!" Dylan called out to the young boy, who half nodded and sighed heavily in response.

Not long after, Dylan signaled the young boys scattered throughout the large field to gather around. He spoke some encouraging words to the boys before allowing them to disperse and gather their equipment which meant practice was over.

Your son, however, stayed behind for a minute. There was an inaudible conversation happening between Dylan and your ten year-old, Roman. You watched from the bleachers as your son made some tired gestures at his coach followed by a small pat on the back from Dylan. You couldn't help but follow them with your eyes as they made their way to the bleachers, your eyes lingering a bit too long on the brown haired coach. An action that wasn't taken lightly by the female sitting beside you.

"You're staring at him again." Your best friend, Ezra's mother, Eliza -or just Liz, commented.

"I'm not." You muttered out quickly, tearing your eyes away from the handsome coach, your mouth hanging open for a couple of seconds. "I wasn't staring." You stated matter of factly and shrugged as you looked down at the small six year-old sitting on your lap, making sure she wasn't paying attention to the conversation.

"Really? The drool coming from your mouth says otherwise." Liz playfully ran her finger across your chin, pretending to wipe away at it. You slightly glared at her, an eye roll going her way.

"I'm not drooling. I wasn't even staring." You tried to defend yourself, making a small sassy gesture to her.

"Hey, I don't blame you. If I wasn't married," she took a pause as she eyed Dylan as he removed his baseball hat to run a hand through his messy chocolate locks, you couldn't help but stare as well. "I'd jump on his bones any day."

"Hey, there's young ears present." You said quietly to Liz as not to disturb the young girl in your arms.

Despite your attempt not to, you couldn't help but allow your eyes to fall once again on the field, following the handsome male that was the topic of your conversation. You had to hide the infatuated sigh that left your lips at the sight of your son's coach running around the field, talking to the kids and picking up equipment.

"Well he is handsome, I'll give him that.." You admitted quietly, "and he's really good with the kids."

Your friend smirked slightly at your words and wiggled her eyebrows at you.

"I bet that's not the only thing he's really good at." She eyed you suggestively and slightly nudged at you with her shoulder, "You should find out what other things he's good at."

Your mouth instantly fell open and your eyes widened at the insinuation.

"Eliza! Oh, my god. Don't say that." You slightly shook your head to brush off the embarrassment and hid your face on your hands to cover the crimson on your skin.

"Mommy you're warm!" Athena, your six year-old giggled as she grabbed your warm, sweaty hands. Even your daughter noticed the nervousness that crept up on you when it came to Dylan, even if it was just the topic of him. Truth was, you had been shamelessly crushing on your son's baseball coach ever since he joined the team a couple of months ago. 

Get it together, you should not be crushing on your son's baseball coach.

"I know baby, it's just hot out here." You tried to brush it off, but the knowing smirk on Liz's face wasn't exactly helping. "Thena, why don't you go get Roman and Ezra? They're over there." You pointed to the field where Roman and Ezra were talking —or more like just Ezra was, to the other kids on the team. She quickly nodded and bolted off the bleachers, somehow not tripping over the steps as she went down. You sighed heavily the moment the young girl was far enough and slightly turned your head in Liz's direction.

"You should totally ask him out." She said out of nowhere with a shrug and a smirk on her face. Your eyes widened for the hundredth time, and you instantly shook your head frantically, the idea alone giving you a headache.

"Ask Dylan out? No way. I.. No.. That's just.. No." Your cheeks slightly heat up at the preposition. But you quickly turned it down with a vigorous shake of your head, not even giving the idea a minute to sink into your brain. "No, he's Roman's coach. It's just wrong."

"Why? I mean, you're single, and as far as I know, he's very single. Soo," she dragged the 'o' as she wiggled her eyebrows and she nudged your shoulder, pushing you over a little in a high school girl manner, "Why not get ready to mingle with the hot coach?"

"First of all, I'm technically not single, not yet." You groaned with an eyeroll. As much as you and your husband —or ex-husband or whatever were no longer living together, the divorce process had been unnecessarily long and dreadful. So as much as you wanted to be legally single, you were still married to that piece of shit. 

"And second of all, if I were to date someone, which is a big if, I can't date Roman's coach out of all people. He already has enough as it is. It'll just confuse him and probably upset him more." You sighed heavily as you looked over to the side of the field, where all the boys were having a conversation about elementary boys' things. And there you saw your son, trying, and ultimately failing at joining said conversations. And with little Athena tugging at his side, all he got from the other kids was laughing and rejection.

Seeing your son's sad and hurt expression when the other boys laughed at him or even told him to go away broke your heart. You wanted him to be happy again. You wanted him to be the energetic and loving kid he was before your waste of a husband left. Ever since Ryan —your waste of a husband left, Roman hasn't been the same. 

For the past six or so months, he has been distant and seemingly unhappy. All he ever did was lock himself up in his room and play video games. He barely ever interacted with you and Athena anymore. He barely interacted with anyone, period. Once Ryan left, it was up to you to support your kids financially. Of course, their father still paid child support, but he sure as hell didn't pay your bills or everything you needed to spend on your children. Which meant you had to take him out of the fancy school he went to in order to still pay the monthly expenses of your home. And he just didn't quite fit in at school, especially now. 

So, you hoped that him joining the baseball team would change that, that it would help him open up again and that it would help him make new friends. But so far, it's worked just the opposite.

"So, I'm making dinner tonight. Do you want to come over with the kids and get drunk? Luke will watch over the kids." Liz spoke, interrupting your train of thought.

"That sounds a-mazing," you spoke in a song-like tune, a sigh of contentment leaving your lips. "But I can't. I told Roman I'd take him to that Italian place he likes."

"Tomorrow then. I'll have that Chardonnay you love so much waiting for you." She winked at you as you both stood up, ready to greet your children.

"Thank God for your alcohol stash." You joked, flinging your arms up in praise. 

You both laughed and smiled in your children's direction, but your smile dropped as your kids and Ezra approached you. Ezra was holding Athena's hand, while Roman walked behind them, with a certain heaviness on his step and an annoyed look on his face. And Athena had a small pout on her face.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

"Rome doesn't want to hold my hand!" Athena whined with a pout of her lower lip. She released Ezra's hand and exchanged it for your own. Ezra going to his own mom. While Roman simply stood there, with a hand stuffed into his pockets and the other messing with the strap of his bag, his gaze stuck on the ground.

"Roman, baby," you sighed softly, not wanting to give the poor kid a hard time. You understood he didn't exactly fit in, no matter how much he wanted to, and that upset him. You didn't want to add up to that. "Your sister just wanted you to hold her hand."

"She was embarrassing me.. I'm already the kid without a dad, I don't need to be the kid with an annoying  baby sister." He muttered, his gaze not once leaving the ground.

 His words were harsh, but lacked emotion. And it broke your heart. But as much as you wanted to tell him that it wasn't true, that he did have a dad, you'd be lying if you did. Ryan was already absent in your children's lives before the split, but at the same time he was there, and Roman felt as if he was. But now, his father really wasn't there, at all. And there was nothing you could do about it.

You sighed softly, gesturing your free hand out for him, "Roman, come here," a heavy sigh left the young boy's lips as he took a few steps closer, standing in front of you with his head hanging low and his eyes stuck to the ground. You used your hand to hold the side of his face, his eyes meeting with your own. "Baby, Thena just wanted to show you that she loves you. She didn't mean to embarrass you, right Thena?" You turned your attention to the small girl that hid behind your arm, her eyes glistening with tears.

The small girl sniffled and shook her head, "No.. I'm sorry Rome.. I won't do it ever again, I-I promise."

You exchanged looks between your children, your eyes finally landing on Roman as you waited for a response. You raised an eyebrow at him, your eyes speaking a silent 'and' to the boy. He eventually signed, almost too heavily, and nodded. 

"It's okay, I guess.. I don't really mind all that much." He half smiled, shrugging slightly.

Athena's expression quickly lightened, the small girl detached herself from your hand and hugged her older brother. And as much as he hated to admit it, he didn't mind the affection. He returned the hug and smiled, for a moment at least.

After a second or two, Roman slightly pushed Athena off him, signaling that that had been enough affection for a day. You breathed out softly, turning to look at Liz, who gave you a sympathetic smile in response. 

"Well my loves, off we go. Say goodbye to Auntie Liz and Ezra." Both your children did as you said. Athena hugging both of them, and Roman simply waving at them. Good enough.

And at last, you gave Liz a quick but tight hug, "I'll call you tomorrow." You said shortly before you grabbed a hold of your daughter's hand and your son's bag, and eventually parted ways.

Today was gonna be a long day.

《Here's an edited version of part 1. As always I hope y'all enjoyed it. I'm trying to get back into writing after a long year, hopefully this will help me get back on track. Let me know your thoughts. And let me know if you'd like to be added to my dylan/coach taglist which I do have》

#dylanobrien #dylan o brien #dylan obrien imagine #dylan obrien smut #dylan obrien fanfic #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien series #coach #coach series

[insomniamamma]

Rain: Ezra X F!Reader w/Cee

A/N: Prickle ‘verse. Takes place after Prickle but before Clean Dirt. Can be read as a one shot. Reader is established crew with Ezra and Cee. This was written for @autumnleaves1991-blog​ ‘s Writer Wednesday. I am woefully behind. I legit don’t understand how some of you write fics so fast!

Warnings: Mentions of war, a little bit of angst, but mostly gentle fluff. Feelings.

            "Hey, Ez," Ezra is engrossed in grading the latest haul, testing for clarity and hardness.  The surface of CJ's World is cut through with oxbow rivers, fantastic hoodoos of striated sandstone slashed with valleys deeper than any found in Sol system. You're digging for fossils. These rusty carved out plateaus were once the bed of an ancient ocean. Through some trickery of mineralization and chemistry the fossils of CJ's world shine like the fire opals of Old Terra. Big or small, they all have value.           "Ezra," says Cee, "She's doing it again."           "Doing what, birdie?" Ezra takes off the loupe and rubs at his eyes. Rain pelts on the tent, even sheltered the humidity soaks through.           "Look." Ezra draws open the tent flap and sees you, standing in the rain, your head tilted up, no gentle shower this, rain that pelts down hard, turns the view across the sharp-cut canyons to silver curtains. Your clothes are plastered to you like a second skin. The rain actually aids your cause, washing away loose sediment, making the fossils easier to get to. You bow your head and let the stinging rain hit the back of your neck, let it fall on your closed eyes, your outspread arms. You laugh at the sky.

           "What do you know about Falnost?" Cee's eyes go distant for a beat. She has a memory to rival Central computers.

           "Hmmm..about two thirds standard grav, class C5, would've rated lower if not for it's primary. Dustball."             "Mmm-hmm."             "She's not used to real weather," says Cee.             "Observant as ever," says Ezra. The rain is not gentle. It is chilly and hits your skin like handfuls of flung sand, but is so different from anything you've known, so new that you can't help but stand there with a huge, dumb grin plastered on your face, even as your teeth chatter with the cold. Ezra comes and gets you.             "C'mon, Artichoke, while the rain does feel slinky and delicious it is not worth hypothermia."             "Sorry, Ez," you say and allow him to take your hand and lead you back to shelter. This has become something of a habit. Many worlds in the fringe are dustballs like the one you fled, algae and fungus growing on every bit of pipe that condensation beads on. On Falnost they had a deal with the ice-miners, discounted accommodations on world or on station in exchange for chunks of ice from your primary's lush rings de-orbited, burning and evaporating as they fell. The idea was that, eventually, there would be moisture enough in the atmosphere to trigger rains. Someday Falnost will have an ocean, but you won't be there for it, half your life spent harvesting rills of water from sail-traps, careful irrigation channels covered over with plastic sheeting, calorie vs water consumption ratios discussed every planting season. How many credits do we net vs wha† we have to spend? You got fucking sick of dreaming of an ocean your great grandchildren might paddle in. You skimmed enough to buy your way off world and since then you have seen things that you never would have believed as a child.            The first time you heard thunder was on a world called Ingwy. Your first  thought was artillery. Ingwy was a contested world, Karoclan and Lussia Collective skirmishing over land rights, while small stakes droppers like you and Ez and Cee swooped in to reap the spoils while the big corps and clans fought each other.  It was the middle of the night and you were on your feet instantly, railgun in hand, screaming that there was incoming, to take cover. Someone had flicked on a utility light hanging from a cord that swung, illuminating the inside of the tent in sickening arcs, and there's another explosion, this one so loud you feel the pressure change in your ears, hear your own voice crying out in tandem, white hot light even through the thick weave of the tent.           "It's just thunder," Ezra yells over the sound of rain slamming against the tent.           "That was an explosion!" He presses gently on your arm until you lower the rails.           "It's just loud," says Ezra, "It can't hurt us. We're safe here. Put the gun down." You set on the edge of your cot and put your face in your hands.           "Kevva. You must think I'm the dumbest dirt-farmer this side of the Great Arm." The cot dips as Ezra sits beside you.           "Not at all," he says, squeezes your shoulder, "I come from a backwater as well. First time I ever saw a proper ocean I nearly lost my breakfast right there on the beach."  Thunder peals again and you flinch, shrink against him slightly.            "Static electricity," says Ezra, "That's all it is. Builds up in the clouds and discharges into the ground." He keeps his hand on you as he speaks, fingers gently squeezing the juncture of your neck and shoulder, "The sound you hear is the air in the path of the lightning instantly heating and expanding. It makes a sonic shock wave, like any explosion."            "Like the boom when ships lift," you say.            "Just like that, Artichoke," he says, "Storm's already moving off, see?" The rain pelting the tent has settled into a steady drone. Thunder grumbles, a low, almost soft sound, not the air-rending explosion that shocked you out of sleep.            "We should try to rest," says Ezra, gives your shoulder one more firm squeeze and a little shake, and when you look up, he's smiling, dimple just beginning to sink into his cheek.             "Yeah," you say, "Okay." He kills the utility light and settles into his cot. You can hear the music from Cee's headphones, the tinny, fast pop she favors, threaded through the white noise of the falling rain. She slept through the whole thing.

            The ancient life of CJ's world favored heptagonal symmetry, long-dead mollusks like seven-sided shields shine out of the rusty ground, the smallest the size of a fingernail, the largest the size of dinner plates. This is a good deposit. The small ones are fashioned into jewelry and buttons.            "They take these great big ones and slice them micron thin," says Ezra, "Use them for window-glass in the temples of the Ephrate. They say it is like standing inside Kevva's very beating heart."           "I can see why," says Cee, and so do you. The minerals that limn the shells shine translucent red with brilliant streaks of orange, yellow and even thin threads of green and blue.           "They say that Kevva's first heart-beat ignited the explosion that became the universe," says Ezra.           "You really believe that?" Asks Cee.           "I don't know if believe is the right word," says Ezra, "We all grew up with these stories, why my grandmother..." You smile and tune him out. The back and forth banter between Cee and Ezra is a pulse that underlies every harvest. Cee has grown more talkative with each drop. Their relationship has a growing ease to it. You don't know exactly what happened between them before you joined up, but Cee's initial skittishness and Ezra's new healed scars tell a story you can guess the shape of. You let their conversation fade into the background, focus on the work of your hands, the meticulous scrape of soft sediment away from the hard glitter of the fossil, working around the seven sided edge, loosen enough up to get your fingers under the shell and you can pry it out, focus on the sounds of the world around you, no birds on CJ's world, but there is a range of bug-music, hidden in crevasses in the midday heat, all metallic clicks and creaks. Your rail-gun rests within easy reach, as always. You worm your fingers under the edge of the shell, wiggling it like a loose tooth, pops out of the sediment suddenly and you plop on your ass in the sandy dirt.           "You all right there, Artichoke?" Ezra grins at you.           "I'll recover." You dust yourself off and take your prize over to the tub that sits in the shadow of the pod. Further cleaning and grading can be done after dark. Nights  are long at this latitude. You stretch in the sunlight. This job is a milk-run compared to other drops, but hunkering in the dirt still hurts your knees and you feel every bit of it when you stand. There's a familiar sound, like a rumbling stomach, thunder, you think and glance up.          "Ezra!" Your voice is urgent and sharp and he's scrabbling up in a heartbeat, hand on the thrower at his hip, but when he stands there is only you pointing out across the vast expanse of sharp-carved valleys and hoodoos, lined in sharply delineated shadows and rusted cliffs where the light catches. The rainbow swoops skyward into grey cloud-bellies, a luminous curtain against the grey clouds, distant rain falling across the canyons.

        "Ezra, look!" Ezra exhales, tension leaching out of his shoulders. His hand drops away from the thrower.          "Oh, hey, a rainbow," says Cee. You lower your arm and just stare, transfixed at the glowing phantasm, brightening and dimming with the movement of clouds between it and the sun.           "It's beautiful," says Ezra. But he's not looking at the rainbow. He's looking at you. Your eyes are wide, lit up with wonder, an unconscious smile creeping across your face, crinkling the corners of your eyes. The stiff professionalism that you wear as close as your body armor momentarily set down, forgotten. Ezra's heart squeezes. There you are, he thinks. He can count on his one hand the number of times he's seen you smile like this, open and carefree, rare and precious as the gems the three of you pull from the ground. Part of him wants to kiss you, but he suspects he would end up on his back in the dust with the barrel of your railgun jammed beneath his sternum, so instead he brushes his hand against yours and your fingers find his and squeeze hard.            "I've never seen one before," you say, barely aware of Ezra's hand linked with yours, "I mean, I know what a rainbow is, but I've never seen one. Not in the real, just in vids."            "They don't have rainbows on Falnost?" Says Cee.            "They don't have rain on Falnost," you say, "Get's a little hazy sometimes after the ice-haulers make a drop, but that's about it." You shake your head as if just waking, the rainbow still shimmers, a bit duller now, and you are suddenly aware of Ezra's hand clasped with yours, the gentle pressure of his grasp.             "Sorry," you drop your eyes, "I got distracted. We got work to do." Ezra gives your hand a squeeze and then lets you go.             "Not to worry, Artichoke, rainbows are fleeting things. You look your fill while you can." And so you do. So does he.

#writers wednesday #ezra x reader #ezra x f!reader #ezra prospect x f!reader #ezra (prospect) x f!reader #ezra and cee

[pretchatta]

swoon june day 9: fairy tales

loosely based on the greek myth of orpheus and eurydice

rating: general (warning for character death); kanan jarrus/hera syndulla; 3.5k words

---

There once lived a man who was blessed by the gods, and his name was Kanan.

Kanan was one of the Kasminauts, the fabled heroes who travelled with Janus to retrieve the Golden Flight. His skill with a blade was considerable and helped the group out of many a tight corner over the course of their quest, but it was his silver tongue that proved to be his most valuable asset.

Kanan’s divine gift had been bestowed upon him by Depa, goddess of the spoken word, and his was the gift of storytelling. When Kanan began a tale, all would stop in their tracks to listen. Men would pause in their work; beasts of the forest both great and timid would emerge from their dens; even the trees would inch closer to hear him. It was his way with words that allowed the Kasminauts to pass the Golden Flight’s devaronian guard, Jondo, as well as surmount countless other obstacles on their journey.

When their quest came to an end and the heroes returned home, Kanan decided to settle down. He found a cottage at the edge of a forest and he made it his home. Now this forest was not an ordinary forest, for it was inhabited by a clan of twi’lek nymphs, and it was during a walk along the forest’s border that Kanan’s ears caught the sound of the loveliest voice he’d ever heard. Enraptured, he sought out its source, and that was how he met Hera.

Hera was the daughter of Cham, the leader of the forest twi’lek. Her beauty and grace were indescribable, and Kanan fell in love with her the moment he laid eyes on her. From that day he would come to the forest every morning to tell Hera one of his many magical tales, hoping to win her affections. What he didn’t know was that Hera already returned his feelings; she had heard of Kanan and his silver tongue, but wanted to see how far he would go for her.

The first tale he told was of an ancient order of noble warriors. His words painted pictures of elegant figures in flowing robes protecting the weak and caring for the needy. In his attempt to impress Hera he made it his best performance to date. So inspiring were his words that the forest itself felt inclined to grow. The trees pushed their roots further than they’d expanded in years and new saplings shot up in every direction, increasing the area the forest protected.

Kanan’s second tale was a tragedy, one of betrayal and loss and hardship. He made this one even better than his last, delving into his deepest reserves of emotion as he told it. So moving were his words that the ground itself wept. A new stream sprang from the forest floor, feeding the forest’s new growth, and the trees grew lusher than ever.

His third tale was of new beginnings, describing friendships forged and purpose found. His voice soared with his most powerful story yet and carried through the whole forest, uplifting every beast and being who heard it. That night there was much celebrating, with everyone who lived in those woods rejoicing in the life they had and the ones they shared it with, and by the following morning the forest’s population was inexplicably larger.

Hera, seeing her home revitalised and strengthened by Kanan’s tales, held no doubts in her mind of his devotion. She revealed her heart to him and they were married in a beautiful ceremony by the stream. The wedding was well-attended, with music and dancing from her people, drinking and laughter from the Kasminauts, and a special performance from Chopper, a bird that Hera had once nursed to health and who had stayed with her ever since. Kanan and Hera moved into the cottage at the edge of the forest, and they were blissfully happy together.

But it was not to last.

They were not the only ones who lived by the forest, and a man by the name of Azmorigan also desired Hera. His covetous feelings drove him to pursue her relentlessly, but never within sight of Kanan. One day, he waited for Hera to take her daily walk outside of the cottage and snuck up behind her. Hera, having been raised in the forest and knowing its sounds like her own heartbeat, heard Azmorigan approaching. She fled before he could touch her, but in her haste to escape, she did not watch her step. Her foot fell on the back of a ysalamiri lizard and it bit her ankle. The lizard’s lifeforce-suppressing venom seeped into her blood, and Hera fell to the ground.

Azmorigan fled, and it was evening before Kanan came to look for his wife. The man of such beautiful words was silent when he found her lifeless body. He was silent as he carried her back to the home they had shared, and the silence stretched for three days and three nights. Trees wilted, birdsong was half-hearted, and instruments would not hold their tune without Kanan’s words to lift spirits.

Finally, on the morning of the fourth day, Kanan re-emerged. He was wearing the same clothes he had worn on his voyage with the Kasminauts, with his sword strapped to his hip and a small travelling bag slung over his back. He said not a word as he departed for the hills.

Kanan’s journey was a long one. He travelled out of the forest and over the hills, through fields and between mountains until he reached the sea. He took a boat and sailed over the horizon and beyond, until he found land again. He crossed arid deserts, frozen tundra and lush jungle. He saw fishing villages, market towns and cities in the clouds, but he never stopped, and he never spoke.

Eventually, he reached the cliffs at the edge of the world. There he found a cave, an opening that descended into darkness, which he entered without hesitation. The tunnel took him deep underground and far away from the land of the living. He walked, his footsteps echoing off the stone walls, until he reached a gate. Standing before the gate was a fearsome sentinel, the honourable guardian Garazeb, his eyes wide and alert.

It was now that Kanan finally broke his silence.

“I wish to pass into the Land of the Dead,” he said softly.

“That is forbidden,” Garazeb growled, his deep voice like grinding rocks. “Only the dead may pass this gate. As long as I stand guard here, no living thing shall pass me, in or out.”

Kanan thought for a moment. “Very well. Then perhaps I could make your endless watch a little less dull. For I am Kanan, a storyteller of great renown.”

Garazeb did not respond, merely fixing Kanan with a stony stare, but he was not deterred.

Kanan began his tale. For the gate guardian who saw people from all walks of life pass him on their way to the Underworld, he recounted long marches to battle, legions of feet falling in step, their thunder echoing around them. He drew his sword to emphasize his words as he described endless repetitive days of marching, camping, marching, camping, always surrounded by the same faces. Garazeb’s eyes followed the blade as he swept it from side to side in an almost hypnotic fashion, drawing the same shapes over and over. Soon, the mighty guard’s eyelids began to droop. Kanan did not end his story until Garazeb finally slumped back against the wall, slid down to the ground and let out a deep, rumbling snore.

Silent once more, Kanan stepped over the sleeping sentinel and passed through the gate. He shivered as he felt the change in the air that signified he had done what no other living mortal had done: he had walked into the Land of the Dead, the World Between Worlds, the Underworld. Only his blessing from Depa protected him from Death’s icy embrace here.

The tunnel continued onwards, filled with chill, damp air, and Kanan with it. As he walked he became aware of a distant noise, a rushing, roaring sound that grew steadily louder as he proceeded. The tunnel turned a corner and Kanan emerged into an enormous cavern through the center of which thundered a wide river.

On the near shore, where the rocks were wet with spray, a man waited with a boat. Kanan approached him and spoke once more.

“I wish to cross the River of Souls.”

The man looked at Kanan. His face was young, but his eyes were old, and his expression was as cold as the waters of the river.

“I only ferry the dead over this river, and only in one direction.”

“Has anyone living ever asked you for passage?” Kanan challenged.

The man narrowed his eyes. “No. Garazeb does not allow them to pass the gate.”

“So why would you not take me across? I have made it this far, after all.”

“This river washes away all souls who are not worthy of eternal life in the fields beyond,” said the boatman. “If you attempt to cross and are not worthy, you too will be washed away into nothingness.”

“That is a risk I am willing to take.”

“Hm.” The boatman considered Kanan. “Then you will pay me for your passage. I ferry the dead for free because they have nothing, not even their lives, but this is not the case with you. What can you offer?”

After his long journey Kanan had only the barest of essentials, but he knew that what he needed he always carried with him.

“I have no money with me, but I am known for my skill with words,” he told the boatman. “I doubt you have much cause for joy down here; if I can make you smile, will that cover my trip?”

“I suppose it will. But I cannot remember the last time I smiled, and you will not be able to change that.”

“We shall see. Before I begin my story, might I have your name?” Kanan asked.

“I am Ezra, bridger of the River of Souls,” the boatman replied.

Kanan began yet another tale. For the man who had companions every day but not a single one who would stay with him, Kanan told a tale of families, of belonging, of love. His words brought warmth into the air that was chilled by the river’s spray, and light into the cavern that was out of reach of the sun. When he reached the part of the story where the father went back for his son, the corners of the boatman’s mouth twitched upwards.

When Kanan pointed it out, the boatman grumbled. “It was barely a smile. More of a spasm. Doesn’t count. But I’ll suppose I’ll allow you over. Keep telling the story though, it’s a long crossing.”

So Kanan did; he told of the father rescuing the son, and taking him home, and wrapping the boy in blankets and reassuring him that he was safe now, that nothing bad would ever happen to him, and that he was loved. By the time they reached the other shore, the boatman was smiling widely, and a few tears had run down his smooth cheeks.

“That is your second smile,” Kanan told him, “and I will want to make the return trip.”

“Fine,” Ezra agreed, still smiling. “You have earned it.”

There was no tunnel on the other side of the river, but great, rolling fields under a black sky. A road wound between them which Kanan started down. Dimly, he could see pale figures wandering aimlessly over the land. None of them drifted close enough for him to see their forms clearly and he did not deviate from his path forward to investigate. He was close to his goal now; he could feel it.

The road crested a small hill and there before him was his destination: a towering construction of smooth black stone that glinted with a mysterious light. The Palace of Malachor.

The road to the palace entrance was not empty, however. His way forward was blocked by a young woman in full armour. In the dim half-light of the Underworld the armour’s markings were greyscale swirls of shapes and patterns. A matching helmet was tucked under one of her arms.

She caught sight of him immediately.

“You are not dead,” she accused. “You do not belong here.”

“I seek an audience in the palace,” he told her.

“And I seek justice, as I did in life. I will not let you proceed until you are dead.”

Having come so far, Kanan would not let this stop him. Not when he was so close.

“So we will duel,” he said, “and if you win, I will die. But if I beat you, you will let me pass.”

She considered him for a moment before nodding. “Very well. I accept your terms.”

She fitted the helmet over her head and unsheathed the blade at her hip. It was even blacker than the land around them, so dark it seemed to absorb light. Kanan drew his own blade, and their duel began.

The warrior was strong, and quick with her blade, and Kanan soon realised he was outmatched in skill alone. So he began to talk as their blades clashed, and for someone so young who needed so much armour, he told a story of acceptance. He described a young girl forsaken by her family, forced to strike her own path before she was ready. He saw his words have an effect as the warrior’s blows faltered.

He continued, describing the comfort and safety the girl found in the arms of people who accepted her for who she was, and who loved her unconditionally. Her parry went wide and Kanan’s blade slipped past the warrior’s guard to press against her neck. The tear that had blurred her vision fell from under her helmet to splash on his blade. She yielded, and true to her word, allowed him to pass her.

It was not far, then, to his final destination. The doors of Malachor opened to his touch and he stepped into the throne room. Before him sat Maul, Lord of the Underworld, and it was he Kanan addressed.

“O Great Lord of the Dead, I have travelled vast distances to come here before you. My wife, Hera, the light of my life, was taken from me too soon and now she walks in the fields outside this very palace. I have come before you to humbly beg for her return.”

Maul regarded Kanan with utter indifference.

“And why should I do that?”

Kanan took a deep breath and opened his mouth. He told Maul a story, the tale of his long journey to the Underworld, the lands he had crossed and the sights he had seen. He told of how he had surmounted the obstacles from the gate guard to the boatman to the warrior of the fields. He told all of this with his most magical of gifts, but Maul was a god, and unmoved.

He did, however, recognise Kanan’s voice.

“I care not for the trials of mortals before their demise, but you have done me a service in the short life you have led so far. In your love for your wife, you told stories which grew a forest and the numbers of those who live in it. Many of them have, in turn, died, and their souls have come to me. In return for this act I will grant you the chance to see your wife again.”

For the first time since finding Hera in the woods, Kanan allowed himself to feel a spark of hope.

“She is indeed in the fields outside,” Maul continued. “Go to the doors and tell one of your famous stories; she will hear your voice and will come to you. If you then walk back to the land of the living she will follow, and I will make sure none will stop you. But be warned: if you are to see her complete her journey, you cannot look at her while she is still in the Underworld. Do not turn around until you are both standing under the sun once again, or you will never see her again.”

Kanan bowed deeply in gratitude and thanked the Lord of the Underworld before departing his presence to do as he suggested.

Kanan went to stand just outside of the palace doors, and he knew exactly which story to tell: the story of his life. It was one Hera would know well, because she knew him better than he knew himself. He began his telling, and the slightest brush of wind encouraged him to start walking.

As he crossed the fields, he passed the warrior again. It was as he was telling of his childhood and of the importance of family and standing together. Her helmet was tucked back under her arm and she nodded at him respectfully, the faintest of wistful smiles at her lips. She gave no acknowledgement of anyone following him.

He reached the river and the boatman, whose face was back to its stony mask. The man did not hesitate as Kanan approached, remembering their agreement and giving Kanan passage back to the other shore. During the crossing Kanan told of the heartbreak of having everything he knew ripped away from him, and the boatman nodded along mournfully as he steered the boat. Neither when he boarded nor disembarked did Kanan feel the boat respond to anyone else’s movements.

He was telling the legends of the Kasminauts when he came up to the gate. The guardian was awake again and watched him impassively as Kanan approached, recounting his adventures with his brothers. The honour guard gave no indication that anyone was following Kanan but made no move to stop him from leaving the Underworld.

It was as Kanan started the uphill climb through the final tunnel that he reached the best part of his story. This was the part where his travels ended and he met Hera. The most beautiful, perfect woman, who healed him and loved him and gave him everything he needed. His words echoed off the tunnel walls along with the sound of a single set of footsteps.

Kanan had no idea if Hera was following him. He knew, he trusted, that if she had heard him and been able, she would have come to him in the field and would have stayed with him since. But what if she hadn’t? What if Maul had tricked him? What if the warrior had blocked her way, or the boatman had denied her passage, or the guard had closed the gate on her?

He could see the brightness of daylight just ahead of him. If he returned to the overworld now, he would never be able to return. If she wasn’t behind him, he would lose her forever.

He had to know. He could not leave without her.

And so Kanan turned, and was overjoyed to see Hera’s wraith-like spirit only a short distance behind him. But her expression turned to dismay as he looked, and even as he opened his mouth in reassurance, a shadow fell over her.

Maul.

“I warned you not to look,” he spat, face twisted in anger, “and what have you done? Now, you will look no more!”

There was a flash of red, a blinding pain, and Kanan felt himself flung backwards and out of the tunnel. He landed on soft grass and felt the warmth of the sun on his face, though no light came through his eyes. He knew he was back in the mortal realm. He knew he could not return to the Underworld. He knew he had shattered his chance to retrieve Hera.

He cried out in pain and frustration and grief.

But then warm arms gripped him and pulled him into a solid embrace, and a voice spoke in his ear.

“Kanan?”

The most beautiful voice.

“Hera?”

He reached up to where the voice had come from, and his fingers traced an achingly familiar face. Tears tracked down her cheeks, but she was here, with him, alive again.

“Oh, Kanan, your eyes!” she cried. “He has ruined your eyes! How will you see?”

But Kanan smiled.

“I do not need my eyes to see you,” he told her.

And so they returned to their cottage at the edge of the forest, and to their happy life together. Though he was blind, Kanan could still tell his stories, and Hera still loved him deeply. The tale of how Kanan’s love for his wife had driven him to retrieve her from the depths of the Underworld was one he told to many generations of twi’lek in the forest, and it was even more popular than the legends of the Kasminauts.

He was still telling it when, well into old age, he recognised that his time had come. This time, Kanan and Hera travelled together into Death. They greeted the gate guard, the boatman and the warrior like old friends, and hand in hand they stepped into the fields, ready to spend eternity together.

#kanera #kanan jarrus #hera syndulla #orpheus #eurydice #orpheus and eurydice #swoonjune2021 #star wars rebels #star wars: rebels #swoon june #pretchwritta #fic

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

Lavina angst, possibly a first kiss.

Written by @evoedbd

************

The world was so beautiful, an eerily inviting realm of winter.  A wonderland of gentle whites and a blurred kaleidoscope of blues. She was ascending the mountain, seeking something so dear to her heart, but what was it?  She knew not, only that she had to continue.  Climbing. Seeking.  She had come so far… how did she know that?  Why was everything so distant?  Why did this feel so heavy, despite the soothing light?

Around her, the mountains rose, shielding her from the weather. In places, sheets of ice had frozen between the crevices, forming a natural, iridescent glass ceiling.  The sun gently beat down, trickling through places where the snows did not fall as thickly, illuminating the world in mellow hues of distorted whites and indistinct blues.  The natural passage led deeper into something akin to a hallway, smooth rock covered in a welcoming blanket of snow.  The wild growth broke through, tufts of evergreen and twisted roots reaching from within the rocks, some growing boldly where the overhangs prevented the snow from falling.    Enchanted, Lee walked, daring to place her foot into the swirling mix of mist and snow filling the passageway, dared to ascend nature’s staircase.   The magic lapped at her ankles, caressing her skin.  It was so familiar, the touch of a lover her mind had lost but her body cried for, a touch given for no other reason than the need to be felt.  Even the gentle touch of snowflakes seemed to welcome her, a teasing brush of a breeze against her outstretched fingertips chasing away a few wayward flakes.  Something that made her smile, for although those moments were taken from her touch, more fell into her waiting hands.  They kissed her cheeks, teased the ends of her wild hair, fell, a comforting weight upon her lithe shoulders.

Stone became ice, mellow greys turning into crystalline blues. They shone, reflecting the trickle of sunlight, casting the world in a twilight of prismatic splendor.  Lee found herself entranced by the way the ice seemed to glow, almost as if the layers had formed around the moon on the clearest night.  The illuminated ice cast the world in a winter blue haze, a surreal filter across the whimsical rise of smoke from the floors.   Smoke Lee continued into, letting it guide her from the mouth of a cavern into the pristine clearing. The thick layers of firs and pines wove together, obscuring all but a single archway leading deeper.  Her eyes danced across the marblesque detailing, feasting upon the decorative angel wings curving around the pillars, forming the archway.  Ice dripped from it, each glistening and twinkling in a manner reminiscent of the fairy lights in her room. A gateway missing gates to warn those away from the beauty lingering within.  A wild, untamed beauty that set Lee’s heart racing.  Within, every hallway was reflected, the world a tangle of mirrors and glass, cracked and frozen over.  Some smaller, less decadent archways within appeared empty, the mirrored walls shattered by fallen branches carried on howling winds.  Winds screaming their warnings even as the nature of temptation tightened a fist to silence them.

It wasn’t real… It held that dreamy softness, that discreet blurring whenever she tried to focus too keenly on any single detail, on any clue to where she had found herself. Lee knew the moment she blinked that the world she was experiencing was nothing save a dream.  That the snowflakes kissing her lashes so sweetly would never freeze her eyes shut, no matter how their kiss turned sinister might feel.  The flush to her cheeks, turning her nose bright, would never see her skin pale as the cold stole the last of her life.   At least, until she heard them. Then she went whiter than the snows.

Lavinia’s howls echoed on the whisper of mourning winds.  Her wailing tapered off in the soft whoosh of the breeze, almost melodic in their tragic beauty.  The lone cry of a hawk through the eternal forest. She cried, a banshee singing for the death of her heart, even as it rested safely beyond her reach. A wolf’s howl left unanswered, begging for a response from someone.  Anybody.  Ezra.  Even the response of a beast might have eased her agony.  Alas, she was left wanting, forever searching for what she could never have.   Not that Lee didn’t try to answer.  She desperately screamed in return, trying to push her voice past the brink of the winds… but how could her whispery croak overcome such a song?  All Lee could do was stumble blindly through the branches, clawing at every twig as if she could drag herself to Lavinia’s side if she could just find the right one.   Snap.  Snap.  Snap.  Desperate grab after desperate grab.  Failure after failure, leaving Lee’s teeth gnashing together more wildly than the wolf Lavinia’s cries embodied.  She was slipping, sliding, clawing at the walls, fingers buried in snows so cold that she could feel her skin burning away from her bones.  She clawed onwards into the maze.

“Lavinia!” Lee cried, calling out again and again, desperate to bring the wailing to an end.   The wind caught her cry, twisting it around her, mocking her as she staggered further into the maze. She didn’t know how long she ran, how many corners she turned, only that the air thickened in her screaming lungs, closed around her throat until she was left gasping for breath.  The maze closed in, looming and cloying, as if the walls might fall and crush her. She staggered once more; hand extended to break her fall.  She collided with the wall, palm blistering at the cold, ears tortured by the innocence of a melodic, twinkling crack.  The ice squeaked, filling the air with a sparkly sound, complete with the delicate snow brushing the melted handprint left upon the glass.  Lee finally stopped, her breath fogging the air before her as she stared into the depths of the mirror she had just laid hands upon.   Her second hand came to the stonework supporting the glass, curled around the rippled curve of the gorgeously carved marble, reminiscent of an ancient roman pillar.  Darkness stared back, a landscape of grey lighting and white snows, falling ever silently as her silver eyes desperately sought blue.  She missed it.  Saying she missed blue was so much simpler than saying missed Lavinia.   The air had fallen silent along with her cries, a decadent, deadly diminuendo.  Only her breaths echoed in the lingering silence, the cloying sense of dread as she gasped out a soft question.

“Where are you?” she begged, voice haggard by despondent gulps.  Her throat was so hot, thick and viscus sitting against her vocal cords, dripping into her chest like pus from an infected wound as she burned.  Swallowing, she let her forehead fall to the ice, nestled against the mirror, as if she could soothe their matching torments.

“Please…” she whispered, silver eyes squeezing shut as the first tears touched her cheeks.

“Pathetic.  You’re still so afraid of looking like the bad guy. Like you failed.” The voice was regal.  Sharp. A blade seeking every vital organ, as if it could slip between the plating of Lee’s mental armor.  The girl fell, as if thrown back from the mirror she was resting against, pushed into the deepening snows.  Snow caught her, cushioning the impact, falling across her lap like an inviting blanket, or perhaps a wayward cat demanding affection.  Lee shook it off, rising to her feet in a rush.

“Lavinia?” she called, shaking the powder from her hair, blinking it from her lashes.   She saw her, there for a single blink, just on the other side of the mirror.  A glimmer of ice blue eyes filled with that gentle chill, a calming warmth.

“You’re a coward Lee. You always will be.” Lavinia continued, gone from the mirror.  Lee looked around frantically, trying to sweep a hand through the thickening storm.  There! A flash of blue that stood out against the maze.  Lee ran, chasing, staggering.  A wall.  A dead end?  No, there was a corner.  A whisper of white.  Lee caught her breath, taking one deep gulp of air before she rounded corner, brows furrowed. A storm of irritation and relief, too much for any one body to contain.  She barely took note of the white cloak, only that the figure before her was within her reach.  Lee descended on Lavinia, extending her hand to…

“You’ve got some nerve, calling me the coward when you’re the one running…”

Nothing.  Her hand came away, filled with nothing save the falling snowflakes, as if she’d simply dusted off the abandoned mantle place.  She’d brushed a dream, kissed an illusion with her longing fingertips, only for dismay to sink into the lowest points of her gut.   She blinked, staring, processing even as her mouth continued tumbling onwards.

“…into a Narnia rip-off.  Where are we?”

The figure remained for a blink, an echo in time.  Lee watched the figure turn to her, a face without detail somehow contorted in pain.  Then, just as an echo might if given form, it turned, plunging into the maze.  A stride.  Two.  Three. Each stride saw the figure begin to dematerialise, melting snowflakes and a ghastly mist pried apart upon the breeze.  Lee gasped, as if such a frail, mortal gesture might still her agonised heart.  Gone.  Nothing but an echo in a labyrinth of loneliness.  Had that once been Lavinia?  Had the Ice Queen once walked this passage, looking back as if waiting for somebody, anybody to find her worth following? Waiting for somebody to see beyond the lies spread and her intimidating magic and want her?  Value her for more than the uprising she could lead.   When had the innocent girl ceased to be?  When had Lavinia died to become the Snow Queen?

“Nowhere of your world.  Turn back.  Listen to your fears.” Lavinia’s icy voice instructed, a note of sorrow turning the air cooler.   Lee shuddered.  What could she do but obey?  But lay her fears out for all to read across her pained face.  What if she was too late?  What if Lavinia was trapped forever? How could she make herself leave Lavinia here when a world without Lavinia was more terrifying than anything Lee could imagine?  Another deep, pained breath.  How many times had Lavinia looked back?  How many times had that been a gesture of hope, instead of suspicion?  How many times had she given someone a chance to prove her wrong, to prove she was more than the false tales tarnishing her innocence, only to find a knife poised there?  To find herself alone.  How could Lee be another one of those people to let Lavinia go?  Let Lavinia bear the weight of another’s perversions alone?  How could she be so heartless?  So… Cruel.

“No way.” Lee declared.  She wouldn’t be.  Couldn’t be.  Obeying Lavinia’s command, Lee still found herself stalking deeper into the maze, eyes peeled for a sign.  The snow never crunched, as if Lee touched it as a ghost, leaving no footprints, no trace.  Nothing to follow.

“Not without you.

Lavinia’s frustration was palpable. World defining.  As her guttural snarl ripped through the air, the maze itself seethed. A warning. Lee was struck by the song of cracking ice ringing like the draw a blade all around her, a prelude to the dangers to come.  She barely had time to swallow before the storm struck.  Branches fell.  The wind shrieked. So did Lee, ducking and weaving through the falling debris. Sheets of ice crashed to the stone, dragging shattered glass from archways, staining the snow with glimmering reflections, stubborn stars twinkling through the smog of a city on a cloudy night.

“Is there nowhere I can escape you?” Lavinia’s angry growl took form on the icy winds.  Wolves charging through the destruction, rounding every corner, hungry and seeking.  Lee ran, arms raised to shield herself from the destruction. Her movements caught within the shards of glass, each a glimmer of starlight reflecting beautiful golds into the cool of the descending night.  Dispelling the wolves.  A glimpse.  A tease.  A whisper.  All merely broken reflections, each teasing the edge of Lee’s memory, throbbing in her temples.  As if circling an invisible threshold, waiting for it to weaken.  Much like the icy illusions dogging Lee through the maze.

“I’m not letting you go. Its ok, Lavinia, I’m here. You don’t have to do this alone. We can figure this out! I can-”

“Be the hero? Yes, that’s what the good girl has to do, isn’t it? Never give up. Stay true of heart and pure of soul.” Lavinia’s laughter echoed, cruel and defiant, answered by the burdened groans of the trees, by the whispering cry on the winds.  Betrayed, the Queen found herself, by her own ensnarement.

The walls came alive, their deceptive mirages forever luring Lee deeper.  Pivoting on her heels, chasing figments of unformed, half recognised desires.  Magical allure, coming to a silent war with the gleam of mirrors.  Ice was bare, then it was filled.  The world was bright and crystalline, then dusky, a foreboding midnight descending.  Through it all, Lee chased Lavina.  The Queen’s visage appeared behind walls, teasing to the edge of those revealing mirrors. Phantom and apparition, illusion and echo. Delicate hands reaching for Lee, icy fingers teasing the base of her hair with playful, longing breezes.  Beckoning.  Calling.  Even as the most bitter of words fell from her stained lips, mocking, saccharine.

“It’s hilarious, I’d laugh if it wasn’t so sad. Do you honestly think YOU can save me, Lee? Do you think love is enough to still my hand when you hold my stolen heart? That I will be stayed by a gentle word when my entire being demands to be whole? What do you want? To hold my hand and tell me my fears will not come to pass? Are you so foolish to believe you could defeat me? The Ice Queen?”

“You can’t hide forever! Just stop with the damn mirrors!” Lee exploded, her frustration escalating into an infuriated cry to the maze.  She lashed out; fist driven into the walls of ice.  Semi opaque became cloudy, filled with fissures of white, fissures which became chasms beneath the serene surface.  A surface tinged with a glorious maroon, garnet and scarlet trickling into ruby, rose and blush.

“Please… just come talk to me?”

Lee’s soft voice seemed to sooth the maze.  The singing ice gave finishing twinkle, the pained groans of the ancient firs echoed for only a final solitary moment, then even the winds fell silent.  A world of dark beauty and bated breath, a suspended moment where only Lavinia’s election could start time.  Snow ceased to fall, hovering like fireflies across a fine painting, the world a canvas, an array of possibility.

“It shall be your grave.” Lavinia’s gentle melancholy was the breath needed to change the scene.  A soft blow across black paint upon an ocean of white.  It rippled, bending and twisting as Lee stepped forwards, hand extending towards the beautiful darkness.  The spec of hope disguised as despair.

It spread, molten molasses across the maze, melting into a mirrored surface.  An eternal reflection that continued to devour, rippling, a pool lapping like a loyal hound at Lee’s feet.  An ocean for the girl to drown in, if she so dared.   Of course, Lee dared.  So daring was she that this was a blessing, instead of a funeral.

“Very well. Come then.” The Queen steeled herself, a universal cringe rolling through reality the moment Lee’s fingers brushed that orb of darkness.  How could there be any hope to find here?  Any beauty within the madness?  No, it would be as Lavinia declared.  A grave.  The death of more than merely the foolish girl striding across the mirror of darkness.

“I will tear your heart from your chest. Afterall, I am the villain.”

#answered #anonymous #lovestruck #women of lovestruck #ever after academy lavinia #lavinia x mc #ever after academy #angst #angsty #scattterday

[thewayofthemandalorian]

if i kept hiding - chapter two

Pairing: Ezra (Prospect) x F!Reader Rating: M (nothing too explicit) Warnings:  More angst and yearning, miscommunication, a brief argument, kissing (so much kissing), implicit sexual references (I told you I’d make up for all the pain in the first half of this fic!) Word count: 5.0k words Notes: The second half of this fic! Thanks so much to everyone that’s liked, reblogged, or left comments. I also want to give a huge thank you to Iris @goldafterglow​​ for giving feedback and screaming about this fic and Ezra with me while I wrote it in two and a half sittings yesterday. No one quite understands my love for this rogue space cowboy quite like Iris does. 

Taglist: @goldafterglow​ @frannyzooey​ @absurdthirst​ @catfishingmorales​ @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa​ @hopelikethesun​ @forever-rogue​ @f0rever15elf​ @thewaythisis​ @marvel-and-mischief​ @seasonschange-butpeopledont​ @lose-eels​ @ezrasarm​ @din-damn-djarin​ @opheliaelysia​ @pajamasecrets​ @mandohatesdroids​ @poenariuniverse​ @fioccodineveautunnale​​ @fleetwoodmactshirts​​ @auty-ren​​ @profkenobi​​ @storiesofthefandomlovers​​ @ithinkwehitametaphor​​ @yespolkadotkitty​​ @cinewhore​​ @wille-zarr​​ @tangledlove27​​

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To your surprise, sleep did eventually end up finding you. It was a restless, interrupted sleep, but it was sleep nevertheless.

The events of the previous night followed you around like a stray storm cloud the next day. Ezra didn’t say anything about it. You didn’t say anything about it. But it was there, screaming to be spoken about. Whenever Ezra did open his mouth to speak, it was about something inconsequential.

This is why you needed to leave. This was exactly what you feared - that your feelings would become an elephant in the room that neither of you acknowledged. You remembered vaguely that Ezra had wanted to go into the village to get more supplies in a few days time. That was a perfect opportunity for you to slip out unnoticed.

Your heart stung at the thought of Ezra’s potential reactions. Would he be upset? Relieved? Indifferent?

As you went through the motions that day, Ezra’s voice was a constant stream beside you, your mind wandered. It had been bizarre, at the beginning. Not needing to wear a helmet or space suit on this planet. You were grateful for it. It made work significantly easier. It meant that you sweat more, but you weren’t weighed down by the bulk of the suit.

Ezra hardly seemed to notice you today. Chatty as usual, he seemed distant, hardly paying attention to you as the two of you worked in tandem. You were equal parts relieved and let down that he was giving you your space today. Sure, you could have made an effort, hell, you wanted to make an effort, but there was nothing adequate that came to mind.

Finished for the day, Ezra let you take the first shower. Looking into the mirror, you looked a mess. You had purple bags under your eyes, which were puffy and red from lack of sleep. They had a glazed look to them as well, a look that you only had when you were sick or exhausted. As you stepped into the warm spray of the shower, you hoped that a shower would wash away most of it.

* * *

She looked awful. Ezra knew that something was eating at her, but he still could not put a finger on it. His best guess was that she was starting to glean on to the fact that he loved her and she didn’t reciprocate, but didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

When he had come out of the bathroom last night, he was going to tell her how he felt, too tired of keeping it bottled in. But she had already been asleep. Though it was dark, he could see that her expression, usually soft and relaxed in sleep, was sad and pained. Ezra hated to see her this anguished. He hadn’t been thinking when he reached out to touch her face outside the bathroom, it had just happened. But the way she sighed and leaned into the touch for a moment told him that on some level, she returned his feelings.

Ezra gave her some space that day; she was clearly going through something, though what, he still had yet to decipher. Even in her melancholia, she was still lovely to be around. Always making sure he had enough, or that he wasn’t working himself too hard.

As Ezra showered, he thought, why not tell her how I feel at the market? We always have such fun there.

He had to come up with a contingency plan, in case she did not reciprocate his feelings. What to do if she turned him down? She would have to stay, of course. Ezra was not so cruel to kick someone out just because they did not share his feelings. The only time he had done that was in a moment of no other choice many years ago.

Assured in his plan, Ezra smiled to himself. This would work. But he would also try and see what was troubling her today. Maybe he could help.

“Little bird,” he said in between bites of soup. She glanced up from her own bowl of soup to meet his look. “I don’t mean to pry … but are you sure everythin’ is all right? You seem to have the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

She blinked. “I’m fine, Ezra. Just didn’t sleep well last night, that’s all.”

Ezra knew he was teetering on the edge of prying, but still he pressed on. “You’re absolutely sure, birdie? There’s nothing eating away at you? If there’s anything you need me to do…”

Her face softened, and for a minute it seemed to Ezra that she was on the brink of tears. She smiled, radiant and lovely even when it was strained. “I promise, Ezra. Everything’s fine.”

A strand of her hair fell into her face. For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, Ezra reached out without thinking, to tuck it behind her ear, stroking her hair with his hand as he dropped it to her cheek. Then she did something that surprised him as much as it surprised her. She took his wrist in her hand and held his hand to her face, her thumb stroking his wrist softly. All Ezra could do was stare, dumbfounded.

Did she …?

And then, as quickly as it had started, she dropped his hand and slid her chair back, a flustered expression on her face as she finished the last spoonfuls of her soup.

Just as Ezra was finished untangling his thoughts, she stood abruptly. Giving him a wan smile, she collected their dishes and meandered to the kitchen sink to get started on clean-up.

* * *

You knew that you had overstepped when Ezra had reached out to tuck your hair behind your ear. The flummoxed expression on his face as you had held his hand in place told you all that you needed to know. You didn’t give him the opportunity to talk to you about it.

Ezra spoke quietly from behind you. “So, birdie, I was thinkin’,” he started. Your heart started a gallop, waiting for him to continue. “And I reckon we should go into town tomorrow. I noticed today that we’re at the end of our stone cleaner.”

Oh. Of course. He probably just didn’t want to embarrass you.

“Oh! Um … sure, that sounds great,” you said, attempting to keep your voice light, ignoring that you would be leaving tomorrow while he was at the market.

 Ezra fixed you with a look that, like usual, you couldn’t read. Was he always so difficult to read?

As Ezra’s soft snores filled the pod, you formulated a plan in your head on how you would leave tomorrow. You hated that it had to end like this, you really did. But you couldn’t go on like this anymore. You weren’t sure what to do when you reached civilization - ask for a ride with a travelling merchant perhaps? You’d take the spare speeder bike as far as the market, that much you knew. Beyond that, it was anyone’s guess. You just hoped that Ezra wouldn’t be too lonely without you.

That’s why you had stayed as long as you had, you supposed. The thought of Ezra being lonely was too much for you to bear. Thick tears brushed against your eyelashes. It was selfish, you supposed, leaving like this, like a thief in the night. No. It had gone on long enough. Him not wanting you. You could never blame him for it; you didn’t have it in you to blame him. It was no fault of his own that he didn’t share your feelings. You just didn’t want things to become uncomfortable with him. As you closed your eyes for sleep, you hoped that, one day, he could forgive you.

* * *

Ezra woke you early the next morning. The sun had barely made its way over the horizon when you heard his voice. “Little bird, it’s time to wake up.” You blinked blearily at him. Here’s hoping your acting abilities are up to snuff.

“Ezra … I’m so sorry. I can’t go,” you said, pressing a hand to your forehead for effect. “I’ve got a splitting migraine this morning.”

Ezra looked concerned. “Well, this simply will not do, birdie. We shall simply have to postpone our trip.”

You had counted on that. “No, Ezra. You go on ahead without me. We need those supplies.”

Ezra frowned. “Well, so long as you’re sure, little bird. I’ll be back before dark.” You nodded, slipping your eyes shut. “And when I get back … there’s somethin’ that I’ve been meanin’ to talk to you about.” You froze for half a second.

“O-okay. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you when you get back.” The lie felt heavy on your tongue, guilt coursing through your veins. When you opened your eyes to see him standing above you, the guilt increased tenfold. His kind warm brown eyes were filled with concern as he looked down at you. You noticed faintly that the sun was giving his hair a golden glow to it. He quickly leaned down and pressed his lips to your forehead before stepping back. His stubble tickled your skin.

“Back in a tick, little bird!” Ezra said over his shoulder as he stepped out the door. The clunk of the pod door behind him indicated that you were alone.

* * *

Ezra knew that something was awry with her. She had been acting fishy for a while, now. And the migraine was just too convenient. He never wanted to doubt her word, but he had his suspicions that she wasn’t being entirely truthful with him.

He’d seen the way she had tensed earlier that morning when he said he had something he wanted to discuss with her. But he had also seen the way she had welcomed his kiss with open arms, practically sinking into the bed. She was a puzzler, that was for certain.

He had reached the halfway point signpost for the market square in the village. But he never made it to the village. He’d turned around just after passing the signpost.

To hell with waiting. Kevva himself would not wait this long.

* * *

You did one more scan of the pod, making sure you had everything. Toothbrush, spare clothing and work clothes, sleep pants, your music console. You remembered when Ezra had found it in your pack the fourth day after you had joined him. Somehow he’d rigged it so it played over the speakers while he dressed your wound. That seemed like another lifetime ago, now. Even then, he had been so tender, so caring. You knew by that point that he was a space pirate, a rogue streak as prominent as the blonde swatch in his hair. But he was never a rake with you. Not once.

Focus, you told yourself. Your suit was folded up beneath your helmet, both packed snugly in the speeder bike’s basket outside. You forced yourself not to cry as you took the photo Ezra had taken of the two of you on a dig about two months ago from the cooler. You stuffed it in a spare notepad you had. You forgot why you had that notepad; you’d never used it before. Had someone given it to you?

Shaking your head, you pushed your wildly out-of-place thoughts from your mind. It was just before midday, which gave you ample time to slip out undetected from Ezra.

Should you leave a note? Your fingers hesitated as you looked down at the notepad still in your hand. What would you even say, though? Dear Ezra, sorry to split like this, but I’m in love with you and I can’t handle it? No. You couldn’t write a note. There was too much to say but no words to properly convey in a note. You could write a whole damn novel about your love for him and how it pains you to love him when he does not feel the same.

You’d never felt this way about anyone before. Sure, you’d been in love before, but never like this. This made everything before pale in comparison. As you left your spare key to the pod on the table, you paused for a moment, thinking you heard the speeder bike in the distance.

It couldn’t be, you thought as you hoisted your pack over your shoulders. It was probably the large willow tree, the branches gently swaying in the early fall breeze. It would be a long journey to the market. Ezra had taken the good speeder, but even so, he had said it would be around dark when he got back. You had just rounded the corner to the back of the pod where the speeder bikes were kept when you heard it.

Ezra’s voice. 

* * *

“Little bird?” Ezra said, “are you … going somewhere?” His voice was incredulous.

“What are you doing here? You said you would be back after dark. You weren’t supposed to -” Your voice was panicked, frantic as Ezra took you in, understanding beginning to crawl slowly across his face.

“Supposed to what, sweetheart?” he asked, taking a step towards you.

“You weren’t supposed to know that I was … Well, that I was leaving,” you said. It could have been said better, you knew that. Kevva help me, you thought as you saw Ezra’s expression change from understanding to confusion and hurt.

“Little bird, have I done something to vex you? Is this why you’ve been so off recently? If there’s somethin’ I’ve done, tell me, and I’ll do what I can to repair it.” You couldn’t bear to hear the sound of confusion in Ezra’s voice as he spoke.

“No, Ezra. Kevva, no! You didn’t do anything wrong! It’s me,” you said. Ezra’s brows raised. This is exactly what you didn’t want to have happen. You dropped your pack to the ground and walked towards the tree. You could hear Ezra right behind you, very clearly not finished with this discussion. You turned around to face him, seeing his brown eyes, usually so kind and soft, storming with confusion and a hint of anger.

“Oh, really?” he snapped. “And what, pray tell, is it that has you in a hurry? If it’s not me, as you so insist, then what is it that has you so hell-bent on leavin’? I think as your friend and partner of almost seven months, I have a right to know what’s got you runnin’ like a thief in the night. Do you dislike me that much?”

Something inside you snapped. “No, Ezra! I don’t dislike you. I don’t dislike you at all. How could I? When you -” You broke off. He gestured impatiently at you to go on. “When you are the best person I could have possibly ever met. I love you! Is that what you wanna hear, Ezra? I love you. And I know you don’t love me, back. That’s why I’m leaving. I understand, Kevva knows I do, but I can’t do this. Not to myself. Not to you. It wouldn’t be fai-”

The rest of your speech was cut off. A low growl made its way through Ezra's throat as he clutched the front of your shirt with his hands, yanking you to him, and crashed his lips to yours, swallowing your gasp of surprise with his mouth. Your hands found purchase at his hips, pulling him closer. It was not a gentle kiss. Not by a long shot. It was greedy, hungry. Filled with unspoken things. You broke the kiss for air, resting your forehead against his as he chased your lips with his, not wanting to be parted from you for even the briefest of moments.

“You,” said Ezra in between a kiss, “are like the very air I breathe, dear girl.” He kissed you again. “Do you not know that I would hang the very stars for you, little bird?” Another kiss, your strangled sound of surprise morphed into a moan as his lips roamed yours, his tongue poking at your lips, begging for entrance into your mouth. “Kevva himself.” Kiss. “Could not.” Kiss. “Fathom such beauty, such grace, such goodness. I love you, my dear girl.”

He pulled back for a moment, a familiar look on his face. The look that had haunted you for months. Suddenly everything clicked into place as he pulled his kiss-swollen lips back from your own puffy, swollen lips. The look he was always giving you. It wasn’t one of confusion. It was one of awe. Adoration. Love.

“I love you, Ezra.” You cupped his face with your hands, a laugh escaping your lips as you pressed them against his again. He was gentler this time, though no less passionate. You wrapped your arms around his body, needing him close to you. His lips broke from yours, roaming your cheek and jaw. You bent your head upwards, allowing him access to your neck. His scruff tickled in the best way as he moved his lips across your skin.

One of Ezra’s hands moved to your leg, pulling it around his hip. A look crossed his eye. “Do you -? Can we-?” you asked in between frantic kisses anywhere your lips could land.

“Yes, my dear thing. Yes. I mean to have you.”

With great ease and care, Ezra lowered the two of you to the ground, caging your body with his. Nothing else seemed to matter. The fact that you had attempted to leave not ten minutes ago was a thing of the ancient past. That you had thought, foolishly, that Ezra had not reciprocated your feelings - when that couldn’t be further from the truth - was a thing of distant memory. None of that mattered anymore, you thought absently, your lips never far away from Ezra’s skin, nor his from yours. The only thing that mattered right here, right now, was you and him. Together. There, in the white sunshine, beneath the tree, the two of you loved each other to the point of exhaustion.

* * *

“Ezra,” you whispered, hours later. You were covered by his long jacket, resting your head on his chest, his arm wrapped around you. The rest of your clothes lay haphazardly across the ground. Ezra’s eyes were shut, but you knew he was still awake. You pressed a kiss to his shoulder. He looked peaceful. Tranquil.

“Mmm,” he mumbled, wrapping his other arm around you, pulling you on top of him again, his hands landing at your back. He kissed you soundly. “Hi, sweet thing,” he mumbled against your lips. You pecked his lips quickly once. Twice. Just to do so. He smiled languidly against your lips.  

“Hi yourself,” you replied, nestling your face in the crook of his neck, where you had left a mark earlier. “We should probably go inside. It’s getting cold.”

Ezra pressed his lips to your temple, his words sending a different chill down your spine. “Don’t worry, little bird. I’ll warm you up.”

You stifled a grin, gasping as he scooped you up in his arms. “Ezra, I can walk just fine,” you protested as he carried you to the pod.

Ezra shot you a look. “Then I didn’t do my job correctly. Come on, sweet thing. We still have lost time to make up for.”

* * *

Your eyes fluttered open slowly. You were thoroughly spent. The narrow space beside you in the cot was empty, but the sheets were still warm. Ezra hadn’t been gone long. “Ezra,” you said. Scraping and grunting was the response you got. You rolled over to your other side to see Ezra pushing his own cot towards the one you were in. “What are you doing?” you asked as he gave the cot another shove.

“I’m movin’ this over there,” Ezra replied, giving the cot another shove. “Little bird, I would share your bed anywhere, anytime. But it needs to be big enough for us both.” With one final shove, the two cots were connected. You reached a hand up lazily to stroke his cheek.

“Come back to bed, Ezra. It’s late,” you said. Sitting up, you helped him with the blankets and sheets, making it more comfortable for the two of you.

Ezra slipped beneath the sheets once again, pulling you close to him. “That’s better, birdie,” he said. You hummed in agreement. The two of you fit together like puzzle pieces. If only you had told him of your feelings sooner. At this thought, unexpected tears started to spring in your eyes.

At your sniffle, Ezra pulled your head back from his chest, holding it in his hands, forcing you to look at him. “My sweet darling. What troubles you?” he asked, brushing a tear away with his thumb.

“I just…” you start, trying to find your words. “We could have had this a lot sooner, Ezra. If only I had … If only… I’m sorry,” you said.

“Hey. None of that, now. You hear? We were both a couple of lovesick fools who couldn’t see the forest for the trees. Do you hold it against me?” Ezra asked softly. You shook your head. How could you hold it against him? Ezra pressed his lips against your forehead before continuing. “And I could never hold it against you, my darling girl. Never. Do you hear me? I love you. I have loved you since the moment I first laid eyes upon you properly.” He kissed you once, twice.

“I love you,” you whispered back to him, settling against him. Sleep began to tug you closer as Ezra stroked your back soothingly. You slept, like that.

* * *

The next morning, you woke before Ezra. Sunlight streamed in through the open blinds. In your haste the evening before, you had forgotten to close the blinds. You had shifted sometime in the night, your face buried into his chest when you woke, lying on your side. You smiled sleepily as you gazed up at him. So calm in sleep. The weight of the world lifted from his shoulders in sleep. You leaned up and pressed your lips to the scruff of his beard. “Ezra,” you whispered, pressing a kiss just beneath his ear. He moaned, stirring from sleep, his hold on you tightening slightly. You pressed another kiss to his jaw. Ezra inhaled slightly.

“Are you trying to send me to Kevva early, darling girl?” Ezra asked, his voice rough from sleep.

You smiled against his neck, easing up on your kisses to say, “no.” The smile was evident in your voice as you returned your lips to his jaw. Finally, your lips slotted against his for a long moment.

“Good morning,” Ezra said, his mouth inches away from yours. You met them softly with your own, your hand winding into his hair gently.

“Hi,” you said breathlessly. He pulled you close. “What’s going on, Ezra?” you asked, carding your fingers in his hair.

“I just want to hold you for a while, little bird. Just like this,” he whispered against your cheek. His voice was thick with emotion. You held him tighter, your face returning to the crook of his neck as he held you. The two of you sat there like that for a long while. “I love you,” he said hoarsely.

You kissed his cheek. “I love you, Ezra.” You didn’t think you would ever get tired of saying that. Before he could say anything more, your stomach grumbled loudly. It had been quite some time since you had last eaten anything. Ezra had fixed you a plate of food to share last night, but that had been many, many hours ago.  

You smiled an embarrassed smile. Ezra quirked a brow at you. “Have our activites worked up your appetite, little bird?” he asked. You sighed against his face. While you were happy to stay like this with him, you knew that you needed to get up.

* * *

Wrapped in a sheet, you watched from the table as Ezra cooked the two of you a simple breakfast, wearing nothing but his sleep pants. He had refused your offer to help outright, urging you to sit while he cooked. It was nice. Domestic. Something that you could easily get used to, you thought. His fingers twined through yours as you ate your breakfast.

Suddenly you remembered something. “Our clothes,” you said. “They’re still outside.” You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Too right you are, little bird. It seems that in our eagerness, we forgot,” said Ezra, an easy grin forming on his own face. You stroked his thumb with your own.

It was easy, sitting there with him like that. Now that the haze of confusion had been lifted, you felt completely at ease with both him and yourself.

The sheet you were wrapped in slipped slightly as Ezra stood to clear the dishes. “You have stains all down your back, dear thing,” he pointed out, laughter tinging his voice, remembering the events of yesterday. What had caused you to get those stains, or rather who.

“Yes, I figured as much. Someone had their way with me beneath the tree yesterday,” you said drily, a smirk crossing your face as Ezra choked slightly on his coffee at your words. You turned to face him. “I figure a shower would do us both some good,” you continued. You offered for him to go shower first while you tidied up the kitchen. You knew that if you offered to go together, it would turn into something else entirely before too long.

“Don’t take too long in there, sweet thing. I’m not finished with you yet,” Ezra said as he emerged from the bathroom in almost record speed.

* * *

Much, much later, the two of you lay entwined together in your merged beds. You rested on his chest, Ezra’s arm draped across your back. His hand stroked soothing patterns against the skin of your back, almost lulling you back to sleep.

“Little bird?” he said suddenly, his chest rumbling against your ear.

“Yes?” you said dreamily.

“Don’t go anywhere. Not without me. I don’t think my old heart could take it,” Ezra said quietly, self-consciously. He almost sounded afraid of what your answer would be. You propped yourself up on your elbow so that you could look him directly in his eyes.

“Ezra, I’m not going anywhere. Not without you. You’re stuck with me, I’m afraid.” You pressed your lips to his to further confirm this. “I love you,” you said as you settled back down against him, letting him cage your body against his.

It had been an … interesting few days to say the least. You realized now that you should have just spoken your feelings to Ezra sooner. But you couldn’t change that, not now. Not that it mattered. You didn’t care that it had taken the two of you this long to get here. What mattered was that you were here, now, with him. Everything else was just detail.

As Ezra shifted slightly, on the precipice of sleep, you snuggled against him. You let him rest. When he woke, you would continue on your day, doing nothing in particular with him. For right now, you were happy to rest with him. If you were lucky, you would doze off as well. Ezra muttered your name in his sleep as you brushed his blonde streak out of his eyes gently. He needed a haircut soon, you thought. You pushed the tasks you knew the two of you needed to complete out of your mind. They would keep.

#ezra x reader #ezra (prospect) x reader #ezra x you #ezra (prospect) x you #ezra prospect #pedro pascal character fanfiction

[ranger-report]

Opinion: DC and Marvel’s Multiverses Are Crucial To The Future of Superhero Film

Alright, buckle up kids, this is going to be a long one. Get some soda and some popcorn, or some green tea and avocado toast.

Back in the long-distant year of 1989, a little film called Batman released into theaters and became the film of the Summer. Directed by Tim Burton and starring Michael Keaton and Jack Nicholson as Batman and the Joker respectively, it was a cinematic triumph that heralded a new wave of superhero films taking their source material seriously. Followed up in 1992 by Batman Returns, a sequel which increased the fantastic elements but was criticized for its darker tones, Batman’s role in movies was cemented in place by continued success. Of course, Keaton and Burton would leave to be replaced by Val Kilmer as Batman with Joel Schumacher directing for 1995′s Batman Forever, with George Clooney stepping into the cape and cowl for 1997′s Batman and Robin, a wild disaster of a film which nearly destroyed Batman’s chances in movies. But then, in 2005, Christopher Nolan brought a gritty realism to the caped crusader in Batman Begins, and continued this successful experiment with 2008′s Best Film Of The Year, The Dark Knight, and 2012′s The Dark Knight Rises (which was....fine). By this time the DCEU was beginning to get started, so a new Batman was cast for Zack Synder’s 2016 Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, and this role went to Ben Affleck. He reprised the role in David Ayer’s Suicide Squad and Joss Whedon’s Justice League, but bowed out of the opportunity to write and direct his own solo Bat-flick. So director Matt Reeves was tapped to direct a new Batman film starring a controversial choice of Robert Pattinson as Batman. With all of this, the question of the past 30-odd years is: which is your favorite Batman? Which one was the best? And how do these films fit into an increasingly convoluted canon in which a film series is rebooted every ten years or so?

What if the answer is: they’re all great and they all fit into canon?

Now, before we think too hard about that, let’s take a look at Spider-Man’s cinematic installments, which is almost more convoluted and in a more compressed amount of time. Beginning with 2002′s Spider-Man directed by Sam Raimi and starring Tobey Maguire, the amazing wall-crawler enjoyed a fantastic amount of success on the big screen, followed up by one of the best superhero films of all time, 2004′s Spider-Man 2. But Spider-Man 3 in 2007 took all of that goodwill and smashed it into the ground with a failure almost as bad as Batman and Robin a decade earlier. Plans for a Spider-Man 4 were scrapped, and eventually in 2012 director Mark Webb and star Andrew Garfield would bring a brand new Spidey to life with The Amazing Spider-Man, and The Amazing Spider-Man 2 in 2014. Both films were lively and energetic, but criticized for trying to stuff too much into their films -- especially the second one. Sony Pictures was attempting to ramp up a cinematic universe much like Marvel Films was doing at the time, but it was too much too fast. 2017 brought another reboot of the moviefilm version of Spidey, this time directed by Jon Watts and starring Tom Holland, with Spider-Man: Homecoming, this time under Marvel Film’s banner (thanks to backdoor dealing), and another cinematic triumph in 2019′s Spider-Man: Far From Home. But, unlike Batman, Spider-Man’s dealings behind the scenes are nearly as convoluted as his series. Sony Pictures owned the rights to make Spider-Man flicks for years, until Marvel managed to make a ludicrous offer after Amazing 2 failed to catch on the way producers hoped. So Spidey came to the MCU under a joint production, which is how we got Homecoming and Far From Home, but also maintained a different universe with the Amazing films, and then 2018′s Venom, and a little animated motion picture also in 2018 by the name of Spider-Man: Into The Spider-Verse.

Class, this is where I would like to direct your attention to the origin of the extraordinary events we are discussing today. Or is it the origin?

Into The Spider-Verse successfully proved that not only is the idea of multiple universes all connecting on screen a good idea, it’s an Oscar winning idea. Spider-Verse is hands down the best animated superhero film ever, and one of the best superhero films period. But here we must take note of certain ideas. The film provided much setup for a world where young Miles Morales begins to emerge with spider powers, but then Spider-Man is killed right in front of him before he can learn how to use them. Enter a Spider-Man from a slightly different parallel dimension, who not only turns Miles around, but find himself inspired to realign his own life. Spider-people abound through the film, all of them having equal weight and the possibility of spawning their own franchise without having to worry about impacting the canon of other universes. This is something comic books have done for literal decades, but Spider-Verse did it with such care and devotion that it won Best Animated Picture and became a mainstream smash hit. Marvel and Sony both sit up at attention; could this work with the major mainstream films they’ve been producing? So the experiment begins: we have a teaser trailer for Morbius, based on a vampiric Spider-Man villain, which features a cameo from the Vulture character first seen in Homecoming. And after dropping hints that Tom Holland’s Spider-Man could cross over with Tom Hardy’s Venom, Jamie Foxx recently posted about being cast as Electro -- a role he played in Amazing Spider-Man 2 -- for the third Tom Holland Spidey flick. Pictures went up on his Instragram seeming to confirm that not only was this the same Electro, but that all three previous Spider-Men -- Maguire, Garfield, and Holland -- would team up for the film. Multiple universes collide, a live action Spider-Verse, where everyone is crossing over with each other. Now, this lines up perfectly with Marvel’s MCU plans, as Doctor Strange has established in his film that multiple universes exist, and his announced sequel is even titled Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness. It’s here. It’s happening. Every Spider-Man film is canon, they’ve all happened, and we don’t need to worry about which of them make sense or belong. They all make sense.

But just before this announcement, a month or so ago DC let slip that their plans for an upcoming Flash movie are taking cues from the Flashpoint comic books, in which Barry Allen goes back in time and accidentally creates a brand new timeline that he has to correct. Michael Keaton has even been cast as Bruce Wayne, the same Bruce Wayne that he played 30-odd years ago, a casting choice many fans have been clamoring for for years. On top of that, once word was put out that Keaton’s role would be similar to Samuel L. Jackson’s role as Nick Fury in the MCU, Ben Affleck was reported to be joining the picture as Batman also, a team-up no one saw coming. Even Christian Bale is being courted to join the universe-spanning flick, but reportedly only if director Christopher Nolan gives his blessing. Multiple Batmen teaming up together in a Flash movie to combat crime? Of course I’ve already bought tickets. Batman is the biggest box-office draw outside of The Avengers. And this concept opens up plenty of opportunities for DC, who’ve done Elseworlds stories in the comic for years. Joker with Joaquin Phoenix proved that DC films not directly tied to the DCEU can and will do well on their own; The Batman with Pattinson will no doubt further confirm that. But now Batman Returns is once again a viable film mixed into a comic book cocktail of wonder and excitement? And what’s wonderful is that this isn’t DC’s first big attempt at this. Slowly and surely, The CW’s Arrowverse TV shows -- Arrow, The Flash, Supergirl, Legends of Tomorrow -- have been doing multiverse crossovers for years, building up to 2019′s mega-event Crisis on Infinite Earths, which saw Brandon Routh reprise his role as Superman from 2006′s Superman Returns, which itself is a sequel to Christopher Reeve’s Superman and Superman II. And for one wonderful scene, TV’s Flash, Grant Gustin, got to interact with the DCEU’s Flash, Ezra Miller, confirming that these TV and film universes are indeed one big cocktail of parallel lives and dimensions that all interconnect while still being separate. Hell, we even saw Burt Ward, Robin from the 1966 Batman show, alive and well an in his own little world. Batman ‘66 is part of the wider DC Multiverse! How crazy is that? And we even got a small tease that Batman ‘89 is part of all of this as well, when we got to see reporter Alexander Knox look up to the Batsignal in the sky as Danny Elfman’s iconic score played. In one fell swoop, in as few as a casual couple of cameos, DC made all of their live-action properties canon in the multiverse, meaning no matter which version you like the best, they all work together and work from a franchising and audience standpoint. The 1978 Superman and the 1989 Batman both existed in worlds that ran sidecar to 2019′s Joker and 2011′s Green Lantern. It’s wild, unprecedented in cinematic history, and wonderful for fans of all ages.

Why is this the future of superhero flicks, though? It ought to be simple: no matter what movies come out, no matter how wild or crazy or outside “canon” they seem to be, they all can work and they all can coexist without having to confuse fans. Many people were feeling the reboot fatigue as early as 2012′s Amazing Spider-Man, and while there was a huge tone shift between Batman Returns and Batman Forever, the Bat-films were considered all part of the same line until Batman Begins started all the way over. Now we have Batman 89 and Returns in one world, Forever and Batman and Robin in another (which was already a fan theory, mind you). Sequels that don’t line up with their predecessors can just be shunted into a hidden multiverse timeline and left alone without the convoluted explanation of having to “ignore” certain sequels. Superman III & IV were ignored when Superman Returns chose to connect only to the first and second films, but now we can say that they definitely happened....just somewhere else. There is now a freedom of ideas and creation that can once again occur when making big-budget films based on superheroes. No longer do creative minds need to be restrained to the canon and timeline and overarching plots defined by studios years in advance; “creative differences” don’t need to drive frustrated directors away from characters or stories they truly love. Possibly -- just possibly -- good ideas can become the gold standard once again for comic book films, not just ten-year plans for how to get Captain America from scrawny Marine to Mjolnir-wielding badass. Remember when filmmakers decided to make Joker the same person who killed Bruce Wayne’s parents? Or when they decided to give Spider-Man the ability to shoot webs from his body instead of technology? That certainly wouldn’t fly these days; studio mandates would require adherence to previously established guidelines, or at least what has been seen in the comic. What if now we could get a three-episode limited series on HBO Max of Gotham By Gaslight? Or a big-budget adaptation of Marvel’s 1602? Simply trying to wedge old comic book storylines into existing Cinematic Universes no longer need be a thing! We could get some of the wildest interpretations of superheroes this side of Superman: Red Son. At least, that’s the hope, anyway.

When comic books can step away from canon for just a few minutes, worlds open up and expand. An entire multiverse of ideas can become a feast of entertainment for many. And when there’s already so many beautiful, well-told stories set in alternate universes as comic book precedent, so too can there be beautiful, well-told stories set in alternate universes for film. And the best part? Now they all matter. And I think that’s the future.

#batman #spider-man #the flash #into the spider-verse #flashpoint #dceu #mcu #dc comics #marvel comics #elseworlds #what if #superhero movies #michael keaton #tobey maguire #ben affleck #andrew garfield #robert pattinson #tom holland #christian bale #opinion #ck burch #rubyranger #ranger report

[greensword101]

Inquisitor!Kanan AU Pt. 1

Alright, this is going to sound stupid, but I’ve skimmed through a few fics where Kanan is an Inquisitor but is either a reluctant recruit or immediately becomes conflicted when he meets Ezra, his space son.

That didn’t make sense to me. An Inquisitor was a Jedi that fell to the Dark Side. And those who fall typically do so in a sense of “the road to Hell is paved with good intentions” at times or because they are disillusioned like Bariss was in the Clone Wars. In the event that Kanan ever turned to the Dark Side, I believe it would be for good intentions or because of his earlier characteristics as a Padawan (i.e. curiosity). It could be justified as Kanan was fourteen when Order 66 happened, but what if his master fell to the Dark Side prior to this right around the time she took him on as a student? Cue him becoming the Anakin to her Palpatine, except Depa genuinely cares about her student (ironic).

In this au, Depa Billiba had begun to lose faith in the Jedi Order right as she meets Caleb and she sees him as a kindred sou, especially after she learns more about the boy. One who is questioning the way of the Jedi in ways that the Council is very uncomfortable dealing with. Naturally, this feeling of isolation leads to Caleb trusting Billiba, especially when she states that the Jedi are afraid of people like him.

“But why?” Caleb asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“Because, my Padawan,” Depa smiled, “the most dangerous weapon one can have is a weapon that can think for itself.”

Caleb, having never known his parents, having been considered an outcast by his peers, puts his faith in the first person to openly express faith in him and encourages his curiosity. Thus begins the decent of Master and Padawan to the Dark Side. Depa, who was drawn towards it due to her disillusionment of the Jedi and Caleb, who’s hunger for knowledge of all kinds would become insatiable as his understanding of the Dark Side grew.

When the Jedi Purge occurs, Caleb and Depa are spared from the slaughter, having deserted their Clone comrades and killing those who have attempted to take their lives. They go into hiding, taking work as bounty hunters or stealing whatever they can. Usually, it would be Jedi archives or artifacts that the Council wouldn’t have wanted falling into the wrong hands.

It doesn’t take long for them to be put under the Emperor’s radar and he orders them to be hunted down to join him as his assassins or die. Naturally, Depa and Caleb agree to serve as Inquisitors, out of pragmatism and because they felt flattered that their abilities were acknowledged by the Emperor himself.

Depa and Caleb stand out among the Inquisitors, being the only Former Jedi to be a part of the Master/Apprentice dynamic before the Republic fell. Caleb stands out due to being the youngest, but somehow just as brutal as the rest of their comrades as the First Sister and First Brother. The First Sister and First Brother quickly become a dreaded duo, due to their strong bond to one another and meshing together fighting styles of Light and Dark. After all, the First Brother considers “know thy enemy” to be the greatest teacher (after Depa, of course).

As the Empire looms over the galaxy, the Emperor soon realizes what a great threat the duo would become if they continued without challenge. Never mind the fact that overthrowing the Emperor never crossed either minds of the First Brother and Sister. They are content with knowledge for knowledge’s sake, freedom to act as they please, and with staying as a team. The Seventh Sister made the mistake of suggesting the First Brother was being groomed to be the First Sister’s boy toy. Her screams still echo to this day in the old buildings of Coruscant.

Through Vader, the Emperor sets up an “accident” to occur on one of the duo’s missions together. Caleb survives at the cost of his beloved mentor, who’s last words to him were “Run!” When he learns that the First Brother survived, the Emperor placed blame on Vader (true from a certain point of view) and redirects anger at his apprentice. It is a clever plan that he knew would lead to the First Brother either killing Vader and taking over as the Emperor’s apprentice or Vader dealing with a potential rival a move is made against him. Caleb knows this himself and he goes through a drastic change in personality.

His thirst for knowledge, unbeknownst to the Emperor, would lead to him desperately searching for hidden knowledge of the Force, such as saving the ones he loves most from certain death. At the same time, he becomes ruthless as an Inquisitor, isolating himself from others and seeking comfort in pleasures of the flesh and drink when the memory of his beloved mentor burns too painfully in his mind to function.

Jump to “Spark of Rebellion” time and without meeting Kanan, the chances of Hera meeting the rest of Ghost seem impossible now, right? Wrong! The Force works in mysterious ways, after all, and while she doesn’t find her crew through one person, she still manages to find the like of Ezra by herself on Lothal.

Ezra is still the same kid from canon: trusting no one, hard to think about others, a thief. And he managed to steal Hera’s heart when he tries to run off with her ship. Chopper stops him and a deal is made: work as her employee and Hera would forget about the kid trying to steal her baby. She also promises actual payment which manages to keep Ezra invested and maybe allows him to open up to her.

And through Ezra, they still manage to find Zeb and Sabine. Ezra has a brief crush on Sabine that evolves into a platonic friendship. Sabine still views the Ghost crew as a family. Zeb still smells. Chopper is Chopper. Hera is suddenly like a single mom with the distant uncle that suddenly decides to help her raise the kids.

Without a second actual adult - no, Zeb, you may be the oldest but you are at the same mental age as Ezra sometimes - Hera is probably more stressed than usual. She loves her crew to death, but it can be a bit much sometimes without a second hand to help.

But they are still the same force - no pun intended - to be reckoned with and get under the radars of both the Empire and Rebel alliance.

Ezra doesn’t know about his Force abilities for a while, not even when they are executing a rescue mission to extract an old Jedi Master named Luminara. It’s trickier without Kanan to do the mind trick on Stormtroopers, but Sabine and Zeb manage to distract the two guards in the end while Ezra sneaks in.

The first thing he notices is how weak and frail this “Luminara” lady is. The second is how he seems to feel her presence in his very bones, like an old memory. The third is another presence, a colder one that makes him shiver.

Enter the First Brother. The years since he’s turned have changed him drastically. He wears the Inquisitor uniform, with a black cape. His skin tone is pale as snow, like he hasn’t seen the sun in years. His hair is long and not held down by a ponytail (imagine it a bit like a lion’s mane) and his yellow eyes. piercing and seeming to see through Ezra.

He’s expecting a Jedi risking discovery to rescue the body of Luminara, someone who would hopefully give him a decent challenge. He’s not expecting a teenage boy who is clearly not a Jedi and clearly has never seen what a lightsaber looks like when the First Brother pulls one out.

Ezra in canon was aware of the Force existing and had been pleading with his mentor to actually teach him. Here, he’s thrown into a massive loop and straight up terrified of this new enemy who clearly wasn’t a Stormtrooper. His typical maneuvering doesn’t work when the First Brother is able to pin him down without making physical contact. To Caleb, this is just him barely using Force Stasis. To Ezra, it’s like he’s walked into a nightmare.

Ezra, now frozen both literal and in fear, has a new enemy blocking his only exit and no way to warn his team about the danger they’re in.

“How did you know Luminara?” The First Brother asked.

Ezra doesn’t respond, he isn’t sure his mouth can work and his mind is numb.

“You can still talk if you want to, kid,” the man added in a surprisingly gentle voice.

Somehow, Ezra finds his courage, “I don’t know her. I was trying to rescue her.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s a prisoner of the Empire,” Ezra tries and fails to snarl defiantly at the man, “She doesn’t deserve to be treated like this.”

“You’re partially right,” the First Brother admitted, “She didn’t deserve the fate she got. But the Empire needed a honey pot to draw in the flies.”

“D-didn’t...?”

“Luminara is dead, been that way for a long time.” Out of the corner of Ezra’s eye, he notices the pale Mirialan’s body fading away like dust in the wind. His heart stills.

After a tense moment, Ezra collapses to the ground, having been freed.

“I don’t take pleasure in snuffing younglings,” the First Brother said dismissively. “Take your friends and leave this place.”

Ezra doesn’t even bother asking how the hell he knew Ezra didn’t come alone and simply runs out of the cell. He finds Sabine and Zeb and they all flee in one piece. He doesn’t speak for the rest of the day, too shaken from his experience with the new enemy to do anything.

He has no experience with the Force. He understands he is different, but not why. And he certainly doesn’t expect to see that man again after today.

Meanwhile, the First Brother, for the first time in years, feels something close to excitement. Someone who could use the Force, someone who clearly didn’t know about the Force until just then, someone that was on the side of the rebels.

He sincerely hoped his master was looking down on him in the afterlife, because he was going to become that kid’s new teacher whether the kid wanted him or not.

To be continued...

#star wars rebels #au #inquisitor!kanan #dark side!kanan #caleb dume #depa billaba #ezra bridger #hera syndulla #grand inquisitor #kanan is thinking of getting a space kid on the dark side #ezra doesn't know about the Force #for now #maybe ashoka will help him

[mltrefry-ficwriter]

It Was Always you, Chapter One

It’s International Fanwork day, so I thought I would share the first chapter of my new, multi chapter fic.

Rated T and up

Summery:  A chance encounter during one of the worst times of Ezra Fell’s life reunites him with his once best friend and the one who got away. Though, that would imply he ever had him in the first place. Anthony Crowley and his son, Warlock, relocate to the quieter city of Tadfield from that of London. In the process, manages to find again that one person who always made him feel less alone, the one person he was pretty sure he was never going to speak to again. Together again, the pair repair what they lost, regain the footing time took away, and grow closer than they had been before. But the road to true love never did run smooth (something that’s been true from their very beginning). Their shared and separate histories hang like a cloud, causing them hesitate to cross the final line. But as everything stakes up against them, they’ll realize something everyone else seems to have known from the start: they’re better together than they are apart.

Available to read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22701799/chapters/54257413

or under the cut

“Can we go to the park?”

Ezra Fell was brought back into awareness by the simple question posed to him by his nephew, Adam. He looked down at the curly haired boy who stared back with wide, pleading eyes.

It was Saturday, the last Saturday they both had before returning to what was as close to their normal lives as they would ever get again. In some ways, it felt like the first Saturday after the world had ended, in others like it was like the first day of a new life. But that was mostly because Ezra was maudlin, having not slept much if at all the night before.

And, he supposed, it wasn’t like he was going to get any sleep now, so what was the harm in allowing Adam some semblance of normal.

“Yes,” Ezra agreed, and Adam was already up and scrambling to head for entryway where his shoes and coats were.

Ezra rose from the sofa, taking with him his book which had been sitting untouched in his lap.

“How long can we stay?” Adam asked as he pulled on his lace-less trainers.

“I’m not sure.” Ezra replied, though with the weather being very agreeable, it was very likely that they would be there for a few hours. Adam had been cooped up inside for one reason or another for the last two weeks, and for a four-year-old, he’d been quite cooperative.

And resilient. If there was one thing that Ezra had been the proudest of when it came to his nephew, these days it was his way of bouncing back from heart break and tragedy.

Ezra putting on his well-worn jacket: an antique beige jacket from sometime in the 1800s he’d found in a thrift store for an absolute steal. He slipped on his shoes, brown leather dress shoes he had re-soled once a year. He made sure he had his wallet, his glasses should he discover he need them, and grabbed his keys to stuff in the pocket with the book.

Adam put on his jacket; a bright red thing that would keep him just warm enough in the late May weather without causing him to sweat. Once the jacket was on, Ezra ruffled the boy’s dark blonde, curly hair, then opened the door and waved him out the flat. He locked up, making sure it was secure before he followed Adam down the stairs and around to the street. As they walked past the store front of the second hand bookshop the flat was housed above, Adam took Ezra’s hand without prompting.

It was fairly early, something Ezra hadn’t considered when fulfilling Adam’s request. The city of Tadfield, located between Oxford and London, was still fairly quiet. It hadn’t woken up from its Friday night hoopla, there being very few cars and next to no people on the sidewalk as they made their way to the spot Adam favored.

With only one way in (without climbing a massive, wrought iron fence), the East Tadfield Park was a lovely spot. There was a football field near the very back of it, in behind a small coup of trees that hid it and its stadium benches from the general public. There were jogging trails, something that Ezra had been made well aware of numerous times by a very persistent friend. There was a duck pond in the fair left corner from the entrance, and many gardens throughout for those who just want to be among the greenery. And, near the playground to the right of the entrance, was a well-placed coffee stand.

Ezra had been thinking about that as they ambled along, imagining the simple pleasure he may get from a steaming cup of tea, perhaps a scone or a danish, and reading a book while Adam played. It would be very, very close to the way things used to be, when he would watch him for a weekend and they would do this very thing on a nice day.

“Uncle Ezra, look! Look at the car!” Adam said, tugging on his hand and hopping about, pointing at an antique-looking black car parked on the side of the road beside the park entrance. It was one of only three sitting idle, but the look of it-long and sleek and not of the era-made it would have made it stick out.

“It’s very interesting.” Ezra agreed with the boy. “Looks a little too new to be a true old vehicle, though.”

Adam didn’t seem to be listening at this point, his interest diverted to something in the trees overhead. Which, really, was for the best. Ezra’s knowledge on vehicles was extremely limited, boiled down to the basics of the key going into the ignition, and petrol was needed to keep them going. Anything else was taken care of by an annual servicing, and since he hadn’t ever found a need to own one himself, it was pretty much just what he recalled his mum telling him as a teenager.

They turned into the park, quiet except for the sound of a passing jogger on the path, and the distant shift of the playground equipment. Adam remained at Ezra’s side diligently, keeping pace despite clearly wanting to make a run for it.

“There’s another kid there,” He said, tugging at Ezra’s hand while they slowed on approach to the coffee stand.

“That’s excellent,” he smiled down at his nephew. “Perhaps you can make a friend.”

“Hey Mr Fell,” the young employee greeted him with a smile as he came up to the window.

“Mr Nolan, what a pleasant surprise. How are you, how was your break?” He asked.

“Wasn’t bad,” his student asked, smile shifting after a moment. “I’m sorry for your lost. It went around the school why you were gone the week before break.”

Ezra’s smile faltered. “Thank you, Mr Nolan.” And then before the young man could carry on the topic, he asked, “Would I be able to get a cup of tea, and one of those raspberry scones, please.” He then turned to his nephew. “Would you like anything, Adam?”

“No, thank you.” He replied, eyes focused straight ahead at the playground.

Ezra looked to his student, “Perhaps an apple juice for later.” He asked.

The young man looked to Adam with a slight furrow of his brow, then to Ezra, and smiled in a confused little way before going to fill Ezra’s order.

Well, that would take away from the talk of his family loss, now the entire student body will be wondering if he had a son, and if so, then how.

He paid the young man after getting his good, and once they were in hand, Adam took that as his cue to take off. Ezra followed at a slower pace, his eyes focused on Adam as he watched him run between the concrete tables with their matching benches, ignoring the ginger person sitting at one of them.

Something like a pang whipped through Ezra as he remembered a fellow he once knew with a similar shade, who also happened to like wearing blacks and grays. Who was also slender.

A reminder of another thing lost. It was best he brought his book after all.

Ezra settled at the other table, eyes scanning the equipment for Adam as he disappeared for a moment, resurfacing at the top of one section to catch up with the dark-haired child who was already there.

“Stay where I can see you, Adam.” He called, a reminder to stay where he was more than anything else. There were enough trees about that he could hide easily, and Ezra knew he wouldn’t be able to handle losing sight of him during an impromptu game of hide-and-seek. He grinned at his nephew, seeming to have found a playmate for the morning, then settled on the bench.

He’d just removed his scone from its brown, paper bag when he heard the very quiet, very disbelieving, “Ezra?”

He turned to the man at the other table, the only other adult at the park, the voice a little too familiar.

He was utterly taken aback by the sight before him. “Oh,” he gasped. “Anthony?”

He couldn’t imagine the odds. After so many years of seeing tall, slender ginger men around the city, and occasionally on his pop overs to London, he had long come to expect the disappointment at finding a stranger instead of his long-lost friend. To find him now, in Tadfield East Park, seemed utterly ridiculous.

He’d changed just enough to not be recognizable at first. For one, Anthony had always had shorter hair, styled in such a lazy way that was always considered cool. Now he sported longer locks, his natural wave coming through in the ends. It was half up at the moment, a small knot or bun at the back where it was tied. There were also a pair of very fancy sunglasses covering his very unique eyes.

“Holy shit.” Anthony said softly, nothing but surprise in his tone, and Ezra barked out a laugh with equal feeling. Anthony turned sharply toward the jungle gym, then sharply back. “You? You’re?” he pointed toward the equipment.

“I’m here with the little blonde boy, yes.” He nodded. “And you, you’re?”

“My son, Lock, yeah.” Anthony replied like he still wasn’t sure this was real. He shook his head. “I can’t… how long have you been here?”

“About five minutes,” Ezra replied with a smirk, and Anthony grinned.

“Not-, Tadfield. How long have you been here in Tadfield?”

“Oh, about five, almost six years, now.” He replied. “How about you?”

“We just moved here from London earlier in the week.” Anthony replied, the disbelief returning. “I… my shop. I… I have a shop here. I… I work from it more than I do London.” He explained.

“Oh,” Ezra perked up. “Well, that’s lovely. I think you’ll like it here. It’s not as busy as London, admittedly. It’s just above a town in size, sort of a very small city. Nightlife might leave something to be desired, of course, but-”

“When did you get married?” Anthony interrupted.

Ezra wasn’t sure it was because he was babbling, his hands were flapping about in that way they did when he ramble or was nervous (or was nervously rambling, which he was not, of course), or if it was because some part of Anthony’s brain still hadn’t caught up to their present situation. Ezra didn’t need to see his eyes to know they were wide, still filled with surprise, and half unfocused. They were, at one point, best friends. Had been until about eight years before, no more than ten.

It took a second for Ezra to realize what Anthony had asked him. “Oh.” He frowned. “I’m not. Why would you think I was?”

Anthony stared at him a moment before gesturing broadly in the direction of the boys who were playing quite happily together.

Ezra looked at the boys, then back at Anthony, pursing his lips as his frown deepened.

“He looks like you did, when we were kids.” Anthony explained. “Least from what I saw as he ran by.”

“Oh,” Ezra understood. “Oh, he’s not… he’s not mine. Well, I suppose he is now.” He added sadly. “He is, was, I mean…. Eliza’s his mother. But she passed.”

“What?” Anthony said, before shaking his head. “I mean, sorry. I’m so sorry. Oh, Ezra, you… I can’t imagine, I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you.” He managed, then remembered he had tea that might help to wash away the sudden lump in his throat.

“How… how did she… when?” Anthony stammered, and he reached up to remove the sunglasses.

Ezra wasn’t sure what brought the tears to his eyes: the still raw grief of losing his sister, or the beautiful sight of Anthony’s eyes. A pale, near-golden brown with a spot at the top and bottom of each eye, perfectly aligned with the pupil. He could understand the need for shades, Anthony’s eyes would draw a double take, almost looking like snake eyes if one looked quick enough. Ezra remembered it had been a common lament of his friend’s when they were younger.

He missed them.

“About two weeks ago,” he replied, just a little watery. “Car accident. She and the man she’d been seeing, they were taking a trip up North,” Ezra gave a weak smile. “Gavin had asked me for permission to marry her, and he was going to propose.” He sniffed, clearing his throat. “The police aren’t sure what caused the accident. It’s possible Gavin lost control of the car, or there was an animal in the road. But either way, the vehicle… it was horrendous, I’m told.”

“I’m so sorry, truly.” He shook his head, looking at the boys again before turning back to Ezra. “Your mum must have taken it hard.”

“Mum’s been gone about four years now, just before Adam turned one.”

“Fuck,” Anthony said, shaking his head. “That is the worst. What about… his dad?” Anthony asked, looking at the boys.

Ezra followed his gaze, and his heart was momentarily lifted by seeing Adam’s smile, hearing his laugh as he and Lock played a game of some sort.

“Not in the picture.” Ezra replied. “He never was.” Anthony nodded in understanding. Which, of course, had made Ezra wonder about his situation. “What about Lock’s mum? Or… other dad?”

Anthony smirked. “She’s, uh… not in the picture, either. Not-not that I wanted her in the picture, or anything. She, umm, we, uh… it doesn’t matter. Point is, she’s not in Lock’s life. Just the two of us.”

There was a lull of silence between the two of them, and Ezra belatedly realized his heart was hammering. Had it been like that since the moment he realized Anthony Crowley was there, one table over? Or had it begun to race as they began speaking, how telling this man who was both a total stranger and the one person left who knew -truly knew- who he was about his recent heartbreak.

And when had they locked eyes? When had they begun to hold each other’s gaze?

Looking down, Ezra had suddenly remembered he had food.

Without hesitation, he broke off a bit of his scone and stuffed it in his mouth, focusing his attention on Adam and Lock for a while, finding it charming that the two of them took to each other so quickly.

In his periphery, he noted Anthony getting up, moving somewhere behind him. Probably to the coffee cart, and a quick glance over his shoulder confirmed it. He bowed his head back over his breakfast, realizing only now that in his early fog of fatigue that he’d fed Adam but not himself.

He ate without savoring, a crime in his own books, and by the time he had finished, Anthony was returning. To his great surprise, he settled in next to Ezra, leaving enough space between them that their elbows shouldn’t bump overmuch. It almost felt like being pressed up together, given how long it had been since they were in each other’s presence.

There was a companionable silence between them, and Ezra couldn’t help but side-eye Anthony. And, he realized, Anthony was doing the same with him from time to time. His sunglasses were perched on top of his head, having probably put them back on to order and removed them to a point when he returned. They would smile shyly (or slyly, as Anthony often looked) at each other when they were caught, but would just take a sip of their drink, turn to the boys, then start the whole thing over.

“So, what have you been up to? Tell me about this shop you mentioned.” Ezra said, shifting himself a bit more toward Anthony.

“Oh, well,” Anthony stammered a little. “Garden. It’s called the Garden, uh…. Dad… he wouldn’t release my trust fund to me. Still hadn’t proved myself… to his liking, I guess. So, I earned money doing gardening work. Seemed better than trying to earn experience interning with one of the companies in London, certainly better paid. I worked for a really well-to-do family until,” He paused, his face turning a deep red. “Well, until I didn’t. Made enough to buy a small little hole in the wall shop in Soho. Turned it around, made it a thing. Still did the arrangements and what not, but sold actual plants, too. Herb plants, a few dwarf fruit trees, basic houseplants, too. Did really well, coulda gone on just being there forever and probably wouldn’t have wanted for anything. Then, well, not long after Warlock he gave me my trust, and I knew I wanted bigger. Something like a nursery. Couldn’t do that in London, not the size I wanted, so I found a spot out here.”

“Eliza was very fond of The Garden, so I’m aware it does well.”

“Liza was a customer, was she?”

“Much as she could be.” Ezra nodded.

“Huh.” Anthony said, looking over at the boys a moment. “So, anyway, yeah. It’s… that’s my shop. I worked out there most days, back in the green house, or doing arrangements. Started to hate living in London, and with Lock, well….”

“You called him Warlock earlier.”

“Yeah, that’s his first name. Call him Lock most of the time.”

Ezra hummed in understanding, though he admittedly had some questions about the name. He let it go, for now. He could feel something building here, something delicate on firm foundations long buried and only just being uncovered.

“Your parents must be pleased to have a grandchild at least.” Ezra added, a smirk curling his lips in spite of himself. “Your father especially, what with the ever so coincidental timing of you getting your trust fund just as your son is born. He was always very set in the belief of what it takes to be a real man. Must have been overjoyed with the fact that you followed the proper urges and reproduced.”

Anthony snorted. “He was bloody over the moon. Thinking I was all straightened out. No pun intended.”

“I do recall you saying in University that he was overly concerned with your ‘behaving in unpredictable ways and hanging around the wrong sorts’.”

“Mmm,” Anthony said as he took a sip of his coffee. “Yeah, that was how he put it, alright. Mind, that started well before I left home.”

“He never did like me.” Ezra said, unfazed.

“Still wouldn’t.”

“Quite right,” Ezra agreed. “As I am still very much the ‘wrong sort’.”

“Not any of the better sort myself.” Anthony mumbled against the lip of his coffee cup.

Ezra looked him over, feeling his heart warm up and sigh as he took in Anthony’s profile. “So, you said Lock’s mother isn’t in the picture, but you never said if you had a partner.”

“Not anymore.” Anthony replied, setting his cup back down, rolling it between his hands. “Was seeing a bloke for a bit, but wasn’t anything terribly serious, and with the move? Just easier to call it off.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Ezra said, and if there was a small, quiet part of him that was lying, it didn’t matter.

The sad thing was, when it came to Anthony, it never did.

“Don’t be.” Anthony shrugged. “What about you? Not married, but seeing anyone?”

“No,” Ezra laughed. “No, I’ve been single for a while now.”

“How is that possible?” Anthony asked, and Ezra shook his head at the tease.

“You and I both know I was never what anyone might call fit, but it seems I’ve only gotten softer with age.” He said, glancing down at the pudge that accumulated over the years. A sweater vest over his typical button up tended to hide it somewhat, but it was there all the same, made more obvious by sitting. “I’m hardly anyone’s type.”

“You’ve always been too hard on yourself,” Anthony chided gently. “There was that loud American in university, the one that took a shine to you, what was his name?”

“Gabriel,” Ezra said, hoping the heat he felt didn’t reflect in his cheeks.

“Yeah, Gabe. I believe you called him-”

“Please, don’t.” Ezra asked earnestly, and Anthony laughed.

“Alright, but you see my point, yeah? He fancied you. Lots of blokes, and even a few oblivious women fancied you plenty.” He commented.

“Can we change the subject, please.”

“You brought it up.”

“I asked if you had a paramour, not to rehash bygone days.” Ezra pointed out, taking a sip of his cooling tea.

“Suppose.” Anthony agreed.

He sighed with relief; glad they weren’t about to head right for the rocky waters of their past. No need to spoil a perfectly pleasant morning with all that nonsense.

 ~C~

 Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!

It had been a mantra of Crowley’s almost the entire time since being unexpectedly reunited with one Ezra Fell.

When he wasn’t screaming that single word in the void of his mind, there was also still lovely and bright, fuck me this is actually happening, and I’m an idiot.

He didn’t think anything so world shifting would happen when he got up that morning. Warlock had woken him up, having slept in Crowley’s bed the night before, the house still new and unfamiliar, the boxes mostly packed except for the very bare essentials. The little guy had been hungry, but of course having nothing really ready to go, and no proper food in the new house, Crowley decided breakfast out was in order. A quick search on his phone showed a coffee cart in a park about a mile from the house. The park had a playground.

Well, he was hoping that maybe Warlock would go down for a nap later in the day, and what better way to better the odds than to have him run about in the fresh air. The weather was fine, a first for the last week, and so there really wasn’t any reason not to go ahead with the idea.

He loaded him into the Bentley, a custom-made car that looks like a 1930s model on the outside, but had all the accommodations of a modern vehicle. They drove the mile, a distance that seemed a little pointless now, but would come in handy later when the worn-out Warlock would’ve whined about needing to walk.

They had muffins, and when the pastry was gone, Warlock took off for the alluring jungle gym.

Not long after, no more than five minutes after they’d finished, another little boy tore past Crowley, and he prepared himself to spend a bit longer than anticipated by pulling out his phone to entertain himself.

And then he heard it. The voice that lingered in his dreams and that he never really thought he’d hear again.

He’d been almost scared to say anything, but his name fell from his lips like it had been perched there. In some ways, it was, having never left them, not really.

“Ezra,”

“Oh, Anthony.” Ezra gasped, staring at him as if he wasn’t sure he was real.

“Holy shit.” Anthony had said, and the laugh that came from Ezra was like warm sun after a long, cold winter. It was real, it was pleased, and it had meant those three typed words in an email forever saved in Anthony’s inbox had been real.

I forgive you.

He had never dared follow up on it, even if it seemed he was allowed to. He’d realized what an ass he’d been to the man he considered his best friend, to the one person who had always been in his corner, and seemed to care for him unconditionally. Who may have even loved him in that same way. But he wasn’t brave, not when it came to his heart, not back then.

But now?

He still wasn’t brave, but he was trying to be. Trying to muster the nerve to make sure this very tentative connection could remain. It was too soon for all his buried affections to rise from the earth, but they were coming back regardless of what Crowley wanted. They didn’t care that there were years of history that the other wasn’t part of. Crowley had a child now, one with a parentage that he had to keep very, very quiet. Hell, Ezra had a child now, in a way. And he’d lost all his family, all that remained with the exception of Adam.

Yet despite that, he still seemed very much the Ezra Crowley knew. He still dressed like a man much older than he was, still spoke in that posh way, with fussy manners. He still had that wit, that ability to make a subtle dig that anyone who didn’t see his less angelic side believe was a state of fact or quiet sort of compliment.

Crowley wanted desperately to be back in his orbit, to have more mornings like this.

He’d have to be careful, though. He already came too close to a sore spot, bringing up Gabriel.

“So, does Adam go to nursery?” He asked. A safe topic, bringing things back to the boys. Kids were always a safe topic, Crowley found, when speaking to other parents. And while Ezra wasn’t exactly Adam’s parent, he was filling that role now, and knowing the Fells, he likely had a pretty big part in Adam’s upbringing from the get-go.

“He does.” Ezra confirmed, any wilting of that brilliant, bright mood of his automatically fading as he grinned. “Little Duck, not far from here.”

“Little Duck!” Crowley crowed. “That’s where Warlock’s going, starting Monday.” He grinned, all teeth. “What about his primary? Where’s he going?”

Ezra wilted again, just a little. “He’s been accepted in Tadfield East Elementary.” He replied, still grinning but much less so. “Eliza was quite pleased, what with it being not too far.”

Shit.

“Warlock’s going there, too.” Crowley said, still pleased but much more subdued. “He was a bit sad about starting a new nursery with only a few months to go, then worried about starting school in general. ‘Course now,” Crowley said, turning back to the boys as they ran about, smiling and laughing, whatever game they were playing agreeing with them both.

“Yes, I do recall big changes being easier to take when you made a friend,” Ezra replied with a smirk, peeking at Crowley from the corner of his eye.

“Be something else, wouldn’t it? The boys being best friends, too? Next generation of Crowleys and Fells?” Crowley said with a smile, trying his damnedest to mask the tremor that came up the second he realized what he said.

“Too?” Ezra asked, and Crowley prayed to someone, anyone, that he hadn’t mis-heard the hope in Ezra’s voice.

“Well, I’m new-ish. Got the work friends, of course, but none of them have kids. And you and me, well….”

“Do you still drive like an absolute insane person?” Ezra asked curiously.

“I’ve… toned it down since becoming a father.” He said, and noted the curl of Ezra’s lip.

“I’m glad to hear it.” Ezra replied, taking a sip of his drink. “It would have been dreadful to have to yell at you to slow down if we ever went anywhere together.” He glanced at Crowley. “I mean, if the boys are going to be friends, which if they way they are getting along is any indication, it’s a sure thing. Well, I’m sure we’re going to find ourselves in each other’s company quite often.”

“Still take your tea the same? Could have it ready when we’re meeting up here. Bound to happen, as you say.”

“I do.” Ezra replied. “And you? Still prefer your coffee black?”

“Like my soul.”

“Oh, please.” Ezra scoffed. “You were always one of the nicest-”

“Shut up!”

“-nicest people I’ve ever met. If your soul is black, then I would be loathed to find out the state of mine.”

“Says the-”

“Don’t say it,” Ezra didn’t really protest.

“-the angel.”

Ezra blushed, trying not to look so pleased, but Crowley could tell he was. The nickname, which was more a pet name in Crowley’s mind, had likely not been used since last time he spoke it.

“You never…,” Ezra started after a moment. “You never… kept in touch. I guess, I just assumed that maybe….”

“Maybe, what?”

“That maybe you had a reason to apologize that really had nothing to do with me.” Ezra turned to him then, the nervous worry in his eyes breaking Crowley’s heart. Ezra’s hands fidgeted around the cup in his grasp, and if it hadn’t been there, Crowley was sure they would be flapping about. “I’m not sure, maybe you felt obligated, or perhaps there was something happening in your life that you felt you needed to clear the air with others. Your note came just as I was leaving Oxford, which would mean, of course, that I wouldn’t have access to that electronic mail account anymore. I… I often wondered…. Oh, listen to me, ruining a perfectly good-”

“What did you wonder, Ezra?” Crowley asked softly, the name he would have said lodged in the back of his throat, waiting for permission to be set free again.

“…I had wondered if maybe you were hoping I would never have received it. So, you could have had a perfectly valid response if someone, I don’t know who, were to ask you why we stopped speaking.”

“No, that’s not… that’s not why. I… I just… things were….” Crowley stopped when he felt the warm press of Ezra’s hand on his, and he stared at it dumbfounded.

How often had these casual touches passed between them? How often had they held hands as they walked about the Oxford campus before Crowley changed schools? How many times had they lounged as teenagers, Crowley resting on the ground or floor in front of a bench or sofa Ezra was on, their hands resting in or on one another’s? He’d taken it for granted, not realizing how tactile his friend had been until Ezra was gone and casual touch was far less frequent.

“You don’t need to explain,” Ezra assured gently. “It was ages ago now. And while I may have wondered if you… it doesn’t matter. Not anymore.”

Crowley looked at that hand covering his and tried to will his hand to turn, palm up, so he could grasp it. The most he was able to do was move his thumb so it rested against Ezra’s.

“I didn’t want to stop speaking with you.” He managed to say. “Not ever.”

“Nor I.”

“Good,” Crowley said firmly. “So, we’ll just… forget the last ten years never happened, least as much as we can.”

“Had it really been that long?” Ezra asked softly, sadly.

“Yeah.” Crowley answered in the same tone.

“Well,” Ezra took a breath, straightening up, and unfortunately pulling his hand away. “We shall put it behind us then.”

“Great plan,” Crowley agreed, straightening from the slouch he hadn’t realized he’d gotten into himself. “Gimme your phone, I’ll put my number in it. Had to change it once.”

Ezra reached into his pocket, and Crowley held out his hand while taking a peek at the boys, seeing them sitting on the sand animatedly discussing something. He felt something placed in his palm, and looked down at the small, lightweight device still lit up from Ezra bringing up a new contact page.

Crowley blinked at it, then threw his head back and laughed.

Ezra huffed, “What? It’s a touch screen!”

“It’s bloody ancient.” Crowley laughed.

“It’s only six years old! Hardly ancient.”

“Oh, Ezra, for technology that’s virtually the stone age. It has buttons on the bottom, honest to God buttons. And, the size, it’s so small.” He said, turning it about. “Oh my… it’s a bloody Nokia!”

“It’s a perfectly acceptable and functional device. It has applications, even.”

Crowley was still giggling as he began to put in his contact information. “I suppose, considering how long it took Liza and I to convince you just to get a flip phone.”

“I do text message now.” Ezra said proudly. “Not often, mind you. I still prefer to simply call someone.”

“I am not at all surprised.” Crowley said as he moved on to the messaging app, sending himself a text message. He heard the ding in his pocket, but decided not to bother with it just yet. He’d save it later, after they parted ways and went home, before he began to unpack while Warlock played or slept.

“So, what did you end up doing? Tell me about it.” Crowley asked as he gave Ezra’s phone back to him.

“Well, I teach English….” He started off, and they continued on talking and catching up until the boys came over complaining of being hungry.

They parted ways, though it seemed none of the four wanted to. There was a promise to the young ones that they’d see each other at nursery on Monday, but between the adults there was nothing more than a chance of running into one another.

At least, not yet, because as Crowley drove a tired, slightly cranky Warlock back home, he was starting to think of a dozen different ways he could see Ezra again.

#good omens #fanfic #Ineffable Husbands #crowley x aziraphale #Aziraphale #crowley

[prairiesongserial]

11.7

Ice cream in hand, and Val’s wallet a little lighter, Friday and Val explored the steamboat. The outside walls of the middle deck’s cabin were papered with posters - the photography kind, which was rare and expensive. All pictured the same girl in the same pose, about a hundred of them in a row, some overlapping, even. The text was printed in a regional style that gave Friday a headache if she tried to read it, though that didn’t stop her slowing her pace to admire the figure of the pictured girl.

“You think I could clean up that nice?” she asked Val around her ice cream.

Val seemed to notice the posters for the first time. His eyes scanned over the girl’s slinky dress, each wrinkle in the silk intentional and suggestive with light and shadow. Three strands of pearls were fastened close to her neck, her dark hair tidily pinned away so the pearls drew in the eye and held it. The girl’s features were dainty - and clearly belonged to someone several years Friday’s junior.

“You already dress like that,” Val said.

Friday laughed. She didn’t own anything that rich. “What are you talking about?”

Val gestured down to Friday’s sundress, then kept walking. Friday wanted to make fun of him for the crime of conflating cotton and silk, but she couldn’t quite shake the compliment under the comparison. She trotted to catch up with Val.

A young mother was passing in the other direction, counting coins out of a change purse. She wore her Sunday best, a green dress that closed at the neck, with sleeves that billowed outwards. Her three children circled, nearly tripping her, their eyes on the purse.

“Hold on, now, all of you,” she snapped, counting pennies into their palms in turn. “Don’t spend it all on peanuts, do you hear? And Gawain, watch out for your brothers.”

Friday tugged Val’s shirt, steering him over to the woman. As the last of the three children hurtled off with his handful of pennies, Friday gave her a wave and a smile.

“Hello, do I know you?” the woman said. Her change purse still held loosely in her hand, the woman’s attention slid from Friday to her children, still barely in sight.

The pickpocket in Friday, long retired, wondered what on earth was wrong with this woman. She felt baited into robbing the poor creature, though of course she kept her twitching fingers to herself.

“No, Ma’am,” Friday said. She looped her arm in Val’s, sensing he wanted to escape. “We’re in town with the circus.”

“Oh, how lovely,” the woman said with a smile. “I’m Marian Pérez, pleased to meet you.”

“Friday Wilmot, and my associate Valerie Lecter.” Friday held out her hand to shake. “This is our first time in Everglades City, so we really don’t know our way around yet.”

Marian’s sons were out of sight among the distant circus tents. Marian didn’t seem to be concerned. She set her purse down on the boat’s railing to shake Friday’s hand. Friday frowned at it. People passed by on either side. In Vegas, that purse would have already been gone, but there it sat.

“Is Everglades City a very safe town?” Friday asked.

“Oh, certainly,” Marian said. Friday barely heard the response, watching the change purse bob with the gentle rhythm of the water under the boat. “There’s no safer place to live. I’ve only just moved here recently myself, when I was pregnant with my second, and that was exactly why. Even you can tell, and you’ve only been in town a handful of hours.”

Marian beamed at Friday proudly.

“It’s due to the Bellamys, of course,” she added. “I only found out well after I moved here, but I was curious too!” She tittered, touching Friday’s arm familiarly, and Friday laughed with her. This was getting very interesting.

“What do the Bellamys have to do with it?” Val asked. He no longer looked like he was waiting for an opening to slip away, his gaze focused intensely down on Marian.

“They got rid of the crime,” said Marian simply.

Friday’s eyes went wide before she got her face under control.

“The Bellamys operate Everglades City,” Marian said, finally taking up her purse. “There hasn’t been crime here for as long as they’ve been in charge, and that’s been a long time. If you’re interested in the town history, I’m sure there’s someone else who could tell it better. Oh, let’s see...”

Marian’s attention jerked back to one of her sons, who had reappeared with ice cream, and seemed to want nothing of his mother but to show her. Friday licked a drop up from the bottom of her own ice cream cone. She had to agree with the kid; this was noteworthy ice cream - and in her book, all ice cream was noteworthy.

Friday grabbed Val’s sleeve urgently, and he went rigid, startled.

“What?” he hissed.

“If we travel with the circus, we can eat this all the time,” Friday hissed back, voice tight with emotion. She waved her cone around. “We can eat ice cream every day, Val.”

The kid stopped mid-sentence, looking at Friday with the eyes of a hawk.

“Mama, I want to join the circus,” he said. “Mama - ”

Friday took a big bite of ice cream, looking innocently up at Marian as the kid’s idea began to increase in pitch and volume. Whoops. Val began to steer her away, which was probably for the best.

“Thank you for the pleasant conversation, Mrs. Pérez,” Val said quickly. “On behalf of the Madsen and Something circus, I hope you enjoy your afternoon.”

Marian’s expression was quickly turning sour, but Friday and Val happily made their escape before the kid really began to squall. Val had led her down the ramp, back onto the pier they had arrived by, before Friday cracked up.

“I didn’t mean to do that,” she laughed, ice cream running down her fingers.

“You’re awful with children,” Val said wonderingly. It only made Friday laugh harder.

“Christ, I need to sit down,” she gasped, stomach aching. The pier looked like it had been put together without much care to how long it would last, or the unlucky fate of the person who would finally find out how long that was, exactly. The planks creaked loudly as Friday hoisted herself up on a barrel. As she straightened, the wind whipped a lock of blond hair in front of her eyes, reminding her that she was still wearing the wig she’d found.

Val paced in front of her, the skin at the base of his neck pink and glowing with sweat. His hair was so long, now, he must have been hot. It was hard to say whether or not he was in better spirits now, but his forehead wasn’t knotted with worry anymore. Not that he looked anything near relaxed.

Friday smiled to herself. She had leveled the top of the ice cream, though half of it had dribbled down her fingers.

“Here, eat this,” she said, holding the cone out to Val.

Val paused his pacing and came over to her. He took the ice cream, then sighed.

“This is sticky,” he said.

Friday hopped off her barrel and pulled a pink handkerchief from the pocket of her sundress. She wiped at her fingers, but found them unpleasantly still sticky. The water lapping at the pier was fairly high, high enough that if she reached, she could probably dip her handkerchief.

Friday was showing off a bit, as she knelt by the edge, straining to reach the surface of the water, but she almost hoped she would fall in. She was already clowning - it didn’t matter that she was wearing a nice wig and not a yarn one. She wasn’t running around interrogating young mothers for the joy of it; she was trying to make Val forget they were kind-of-sort-of prisoners of a traveling circus and there was no knowing when Val would see the door of the convent again. Why not commit to the bit and fall in a few feet of water? Val was too nice to laugh at her, but he would make a big fuss over her and forget to be melancholy for a few more minutes.

Friday’s concentration was complete as she strained for the water, her ankles wobbling as the handkerchief danced a hairsbreadth above the water’s surface. Several locks of hair fell in her eyes, and her ankles wobbled again as she tucked her hair behind her ear.

“What are you doing?” Val asked. She couldn’t see him, but she heard him quietly crunch through a piece of ice cream cone.

An oar passed under the water, just under the spot where Friday’s handkerchief hovered. She looked up. An old man sat in a rowboat, kept company by a writhing net of the biggest fish Friday had ever seen. Each one was the size of one of Marian’s kids, four feet long at least. The fish took up more room in the boat than the old man did.

The old man paused his rowing. He glared at Friday - or more likely, into the sun behind her.

“You’ll lose your arm,” he said, and spat over his shoulder.

Friday straightened up. The man had the ordinary things one expected of fisherfolk in his rowboat with him, but he also had a shotgun wedged under the seat.

This was the person Friday should be asking questions. Friday shoved her handkerchief back in her pocket. The old man was moving on, bringing his rowboat to the shallow end of the pier. Friday followed, jogging along the pier to keep up. She could hear Val behind her, following at a sensible pace.

“Hey, I was wondering if you know someone named, uh…” Friday struggled to remember the previous courier’s name. “Adams! Someone named Adams?”

The man grunted.

“You don’t know him? Or you do?” Friday pressed.

The man was wrapping rope around a post as his net of fish flopped back and forth, rocking the little boat. A cloud moved overhead, its shadow passing over the water. Friday frowned. In that case, why was the old man still squinting like the sun was in his eyes?

Val caught up, finally.

“Something’s bothering me,” he said, pulling Friday aside. His hands were sticky too, she noticed, with satisfaction. “On the way in, Ezra told us not to wander off. But Mrs. Pérez says there’s no crime. And you saw…”

“How she just left her purse there?” Friday finished.

The old man tossed his fish up onto the pier; the writhing net landed an inch from Friday, and she screamed, jumping out of her skin. The old man climbed up after his catch.

“Don’t know an Adams,” the old man said. Friday wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or to himself. “There’s more than two dozen people living here, pet. Haven’t you ever been to a city before?”

Friday barked a laugh, stepping toward the old man. Val caught her shoulder.

“How about any disappearances at all lately?” Val said.

The old man cracked up, howling with laughter. A shiver ran down Friday’s spine. Val was perfectly still beside her, his stiffness validating the wrongness that Friday felt under the old man’s laugh. The two of them stood and watched him, his net of fish all but forgotten as he cackled.

“...What’s funny?” asked Val.

“There’s more disappearances in Everglades City than there are people,” the old man said. “And as I was telling the lady, there’s no small number of people.”

The old man’s face twisted now, not in laughter, but in some unclear emotion. No feeling came through in his words, his laughter dead in the air.

“Been a peculiarity of this city as long as I’ve been alive,” he said. “People’ll pack up a boat and row out into the glades, never come back. Leave their whole family behind. Some weeks, it’ll be one a day. Then you’ll have a dry month or two...but it never stops.”

The old man rubbed the white stubble on his chin thoughtfully as his net of fish slapped the pier in a frenzy.

“Just keep your hands where they are, young lady,” he mumbled, finally turning away. “Just keep ‘em where they are.”

11.6 || 11.8

#story

[goldstonegolem64]

Book1 Hope returns   Chapter 44  Strom warning  By Goldstonegolem64

On the Prometheus

Jay was in his room sitting at his work bench working on the prostatic leg for pidge. It was a simple task for him seeing as he made dozens of prostatic body parts in his classes. As he worked on it he heard something small moving. So he turned off the small generator that powered his welder lifted his welding mask and turned to see Molly standing there in her crib looking at him.she and Clay may have been alive for about for about four day now. But it was enough time for jay to figure out the personalizes of his two daughters. Molly was a bubbly ball of giggles an smiles. She also enjoyed playing with her brother. She liked Usamu the most do to his psychokinesis ability of making blocks float in the air as well as watching he brother fall to the ground from over use of his power. While Clay was a quiet an seemingly emotionless at times. But there were a few times that where she did show then mainly when she was being held by him and when she was playing with Fitz. They both also learned to say a few word like “Fuck” Molly said with a big smile on her face as she looked at her father not knowing what that word meant  

Jay cringed a little after hearing that and walked over to his daughter “ No molly you can’t say that .That is a bad word if Allura and the others hear you say that word. Daddy will be in big trouble “   Jay said as he picked up his daughter 

“ Fuck” Molly said still giggling 

“ Oh I wish you didn’t like saying that word  . “ Jay said remembering how he stubbed his toe last night before heading to bed not knowing his daughter were awake “ well at least you did learn the Q word “

“ Quiznak”Another little voice said

“ Noooo” jay said softly as he looked inside of the crib to see Clay still laying there awake and looking at him. “ Well hi there .” Jay said as he grabbed his other daughter  “ Now tell papa who taught you that word “

“Pigeon”Clay said as she rubbed her eyes a little before wrapping around her father’s neck  pulled herself closer and tried to fall back asleep

“Pigeon really “ Jay said in flabbergasted voice. Clay giggled a little as she drifting back to sleep  Jay wasn’t surprised by this he would tell the youngest paladin off when they landed on olkierion later. With his hands full he walked toward the door. As he left his room Beau’s voice came over the P.A system 

[ Captain we will be arriving on olkierion in a few minutes and you will be required in the cockpit]

“ I will be down shortly beau “ Jay said as he walked out of his room and down the stairs. As he moved down the stair he slowly changed his skin color a few times to show molly that she could to do it to . She had a look of wonderment on he face. She tried to copy this but the only thing that changed on her was her hair which when from a black to red then back to black.” That is so good Molly” Jay said happily. as he entered the living room

Then there was a sudden flash that caught jay off guard. Jay looked toward the source of the flash to see Fitz sitting on the couch with his phone in his hand sitting on the couch with Bastion and Usamu both watching a movie  

“ Hi Jay” Fitz said 

“ Hi Dad” Usmau said 

“ Hello father “ bastion said waving 

“ Hello boies how are you “

“ Were good “ Bastion said 

“ Did you three do the work i assigned you” Jay watched as Bastion and Fitz looked away while Usamu looked right at home an said

“ Yeah it was easy”

“ Good to hear. Bastion,  Fitz when this is over do your homework “

“ Ok “ Fitz said

“ Yes sir “ Bastion saids 

“ Alright now i’m need in the cockpit. So here watch your sisters for a bit  “ Jay  said as walked over to his to the couch and hand molly off to Usamu and then he slowly prid Clays hands off his neck and passed her off to Fitz. “ She’ll Wake up soon. “

“ Alright Jay” Fitz said as he took his little sister  and the moment he did Clay Wrapped herself around him

“ Thanks boys and stape yourselfs in were going to be entering the planet's  atmosphere “ Jay said as he walked to the cockpit 

“ On it “ Bastion said as he and his siblings sat on the couch and held onto each other 

Jay walked over into the cockpit to find Ace, La-sai and N-7 Sitting in the cockpit

“ Hi Jay hows little green new foot coming along “ Ace asked from the co-pilot's seat. 

“ It’s coming along great only stopped when the twins wake up.” Jay replied as he took the pilot's seat 

“ Good to hear Jay “ pidge said over the ship comms

“Oh Hey Pigeon i’ve got a bone to pick with you about Clays new favorite word” Jay said with a little bet of anger in his voice

“ Oh She said sorry i was trying to walk without the use of my crane and i fell “

“ It’s alright pidge just don’t do it again front of the girl”

“I’ll try”

“ That's all I can ask “ jay said as the ship started to shake a little as the entered the planets  atmosphere. As the three ship flow closer to the city they noticed three red colored galra  Warships docked near the city. Then the main cannons of two of the ships started to move and aim towards them

“  Were being locked onto to” Ace said 

“ Open a comm signal with the three ships. Pidge try to get Ryner on the line”  Jay said but before anything could happen the cannons lowered “ Uh what just happened “

“ I just told them not to fire on us seeing as we have worked with them before”  Val said over the comms Also we will be landing near the master of none” 

“Ok “ La-sai said worried a little “ Jay do you know this guys?” 

“ YEs there called the Queen slayers. I’m friends with there boss and i’m dating the head of their sciences division.”   Jay said as his cheek marks started to glow. He slowl turned the ship and followed where val was going followed by the green lion  

After a few minutes of flying the Prometheus, Green lion and the Valkyrie touched down near what looked like a small base camp full of Slayers and Olkier talking and trading things with each other. 

“ Alright gang you find and fill her in on the plan. While I take to Isara to see why she’s here “ Jay said as his teammates leaves while he was still sitting while setting up the long distant comms” Pidge can you set up the disk ?”

“On it” Pidge said as the green lion stood up on all four followed by a bright light after a few seconds of a huge satellite disk appeared on the green lions. 

“Thanks pidge” Jay said as he connected the Prometheus to the green lion. 

“ Your welcome and I'm starting the encrypt process ” Pidge said

“ now contacting to the Castle of lions.” After a few second a green light appeared “ Allura ,Coran can you hear me ?” JAy asked as he spoke into the mike he waited for a few seconds 

“ We hear you loud and clear Jay” Coran said 

“ Good to know. We’ve made it to are destination and we have also run into an Allies don’t know why they’re here. But i’ m happy to see them.”

“ Who is it?” Allura asked 

“Can’t said just in case someone is smarter the Pidge “

“Fat chances anyone can get passed by encryption codes “Pidge interrupted 

“  Ok Green bean you can quit  patting yourself on the back. Back to you Allura lets just say it you’ll be happy to see them again “ Jay said

“ All Just keep us posted on anything that happens there ok”  Allura said

“ Can do boss and see you when you get here “ Jay said  as he turned off the comms “ Beau stay put and keep  the comms on just incase something happens to the others ok”

“ Yes Captain “ Beau said 

“ Alright then” Jay then got up from his seat any but as he did he heard a scream coming from the Cargo hold. Jay booked to the cargo hold and saw Isara holding Molly up as well as her husband Boleslaw Taking to Usamu  gave him a  something he could tell 

“ Oh my goddess Who are you little lady “ Isara said smile while Molly was giggling madly 

“ Hi Isara, Boleslaw It’ s been a while” Jay said some what confused.

“ Hello Boy “ 

“ Hi Jay Oh tell where did you find this two little cuties?” Isara asked as she held Molly

“ Kitty” Molly said with a smile on her face as she hugged Isara 

“ I found them both in a flower pot about four days ago in my room.”

“While “ Isara looked at Molly and Clay and saw that they had small red marks on their cheeks “ Wait their you kids how?”

“ Altean Bullshit science I will explain it more later  . Now  My turn to ask a Question. One How did you find this place. Two Is Ezra here  And three Boleslaw what did you just give my boy?” Jay asked mainly wanting the answer for the last two. 

Boleslaw spoke first” It is a neckless made from the horns of the Red king this young man killed.” Boleslaw said as Usamu showed of the neckless. The neckless was made up of multiply colored beads and between each third bead was one of the three horns of the red king 

“ I like it” Usamu said 

“ Good to know “ Jay replied 

“ To answer the first question The master of none ran it to some spores floating though space and i’ m guessing you know the rest seeing as you came to the world before from what Ryner has said and the reason were all here is because we want to upgrade some of are equipment and may be recruit some new members. As for Ezra they have been roaming the city the [past three day now just losing it over finding a place like this it found to watch her just run from the city to the forest village. Now why are you here Jay “

“ Were here to ask Ryner if she and he people could help us in are plan to Attack the Galra command center by building a huge wormhole making ring ands seeing as your here do you want to join us in this attack.”

Both Isara and Boleslaw looked at each other” What is the plan how big is the attacking force and how long till the attack takes place?”Isara asked  

“ The Attack will be in a few days. I don’t know the number of ships that will be their and plan is” Jay began to explain what the plan was them

A few hundred miles away from the planet two imperial Carriers and a warship  exited warp speed In the war ship Root rot starred at the planet he was going to conquer for Lady Haggar.

“ Why did we exit Wrap speed so far from the planet Sir ?” A Young Galra officer  asked 

“ Well young one  we are just out of rang from the planets scanners. I don’ t wish to tip off the enemy to are arrival now ready the Coffins”  Root Rot said with a wicked smile.

“ Yes sir but my I ask why did we bring those six” the young officer asked sacred of the answers  

“ Ah I miss the day were the young weren’t afraid asked the old question. It reminds me of home. To answer your question young one I out of the hundreds of monsters or as the paladins called them robeasts made before Voltron reappeared along with the Valkyrie. This six stood out to me seeing as they are the strongest but they show a level of intelligent that the others didn’t show so I picked them up and I plan on using them here to test out the defensive  and they will be a good distraction for me and my men can get onto the planet undetected” 

“Ok but how will you handle them if they survive the destroying the enemy”

“ Simple they will be in  weakened state an me and my men will recapture them and if Voltron or the Valkyrie are there then have six disposable beast at my disposal will be useful.” Root rot said as he watched as the coffins moved towards the planet 

“Sir there seem to be a storm moving towards the city ” Another bridge officers said 

“ Good it will be a great battle then” Rot root said as he walked towards the doorway.” maintain are current position If I don’t return turn my late known location and turn it to ash and dust .” 

“Yes sir “ The bridge crew said 

Back on Olkier Pidge was walking along a forest path near the city With Rover at her side. The upgrade that La-Sai had given him were meant to help pidge with working on projects she was working on by using a small tractor beam to lift up items. But now she had him  use it to pick herself up or stop herself from falling over when she lost her balance. But she was get better at walking with a prostatic leg but she still need her cane just to help he keep her balances. 

She was trying to find her Ryner and from what the other Olkier told her she was last seen walking towards the woods. She wondered if the others already found her and were already telling her about the plan. But that was ok by her she just wanted to get out  of the green lion and moved around. She still didn’t like being out in nature all that much but it did help her clear her mind. As she moved along the path she could hear people talking. She started  to move forward just a little bit faster towards the voice stubbing a little as she moved.. After a few more minutes of walking down the path she saw Ace and Ryner with there backs turned  and walking away from her.

“ Hey guys wait for me “

Pidge aloud as she tried to catch up with her friend 

Both ace and Ryner turn to see the green paladin. Ace smile when she pidge. But Ryner had a look of worry on her face as she looked at the cane in pidges hand

“ Hey pidge good to see you to out and about” Ace said

“ Thanks Ace. Uh Ryner are you ok ?” Pidge asked 

“ Yes but what happened to you and why do you need a cane. I though the castle of lions healing bay could heal any injury”  Ryner said 

Pidge felt a little nervous “ Well it cant regrow legs ”

Ryner looked horrified “ What happened “

“ I got in over my head trying to help jay”

“ Explain more please “  Ryner asked 

Pidge felt fear creep up her back just thinking about that day.  She then looked to ace for help 

Ace took notice “ We got a distress call from a nearby rebel base. They were attacked by three of Zarkon’s I don’t know Special ops unit or something pidge and jay got separated from us and meet a something or someone to be honest I don’t know if we should keep talking about it seeing  as Both her and Jay were knocking on deaths door after that. ” Ace said 

Ryner bit her lower lip before talking again “ Alright I will not press you too on it. “

“ Thank you “ Pidge said 

“Your welcome now Ace can you show me the Teludavs Ring please  ?”Ryner asked 

“ Alright “ Ace said as she pulled out a small device that showed of the ring and the Schematics of it.

“ Alright seeing as your team is doing the hard part. “  Ryner when quiet for a few seconds to calculate and started talking to herself” With Fifteen percent of are people working on upgrading The queen slayers equipment and thirty % working on Better are planets defenses. Then ten percent  working on no wait they finish working on that. I will tell him myself when I see he. “It will take   She then returned to talking to Ace “ It will take us ten day to finish if we start tonight“ Ryner said 

“ Ok then will inform Allura about this and thank you for your help Ryner. Now Pidge your up” Ace said as the started walking back to the Prometheus

Ryner look towards pidge”  What is it you want to ask me Pidge” Ryner asked 

“ Well After running into Several Galra made copies of the Valkyrie and the special op unit also having robeasts of there own. I though that we could maybe use  those cubes that were used against us when came here “ Pidge said

“ Great minds think alike uh pidge. Well after you left we trailed Lubos for what he had done  that despite his betrayal he was right about one thing We need to work on are planet’s defense. So we lessened his sentence and had him work on reprograming on the weapons he helped designed as well as make more of them but a lot  smaller then the first one. So we can help you  this that will just need to be there to control the cubes”

“ Thanks Ryner “ Pidge said 

“ Your welcome now lets get you an new leg” Ryner said as she walked back to the City with pidge

Elsewhere 

Jay was walking around the city to  where the stuff he commissioned was or and to find where Ezra was. He also wasn’t alone doing this Fitz was walking beside him.

“ So why did you decide to follow me out here bud?’ Jay asked 

“ Well I wanted to see something besides the inside of the castle and the Prometheus and I feel a bit uneasy about Isara. I know she is a friend of your it’s just after everything that happened back on the balmera I just don’t feel safe around her  if you get what I'm saying” Fitz said as the skin of his arms started to change from flesh to a jade like gem stone

{ I forgot he could do that  } Jay thought  to himself.”  I get it after years of being enslaved and the death of your father. I can see why your a little scared  of being around her. But once this war is over and we got back to my home world your going to be round a lot of Galra pure bloods and half bloods like Keith.”  

“ I know but still it will just take time “ Fitz said tapping his two fingers together 

“ Is there anything Else you wanted to talk about Fitz “ Jay asked feeling that something was a little off 

Fitz tapped his fingers “ Uh Mmm” Fitz try to find the right words to say “Am I not a good son?” Fitz asked

Jay was taken aback by what Fitz said “  What no your a good kid why would you think other wise”

“ Well after a week of us living to together Usamu and Bastion showed up and a few day later Molly and Clay appeared and they took up most of your time”  Fitz rubbed the back of his head 

Jay exhaled and ran both his hands through his hair”  Ok I know this was coming and I really hoped it didn’t. Ok first Clay was plan I planet her a month before any of this happened so I had  a plan for her. Then I meet Adam an then everything when on a roller coater of Quzinaking event that completely  just blind side me. Then I meet you and I saw  what happened to your father and I though hey this kid is going to need someone to watch over him. Should I have run passes Allura first yes. Should I have read the part in the parents guild for dummies about preteens also yes. Should I have adopted two more kids no . But I do regret it No because I love all of you and you give me a reason to get out of bed in the morning because you guy knock on my door if you walk up before me”   Jay watched Fitz laugh a little about that last bit. Jay then crouched down and placed both hands on Fitz Shoulder ” Look Fitz I get it one day your alone then the next day you have two new brother then a week later to infant girl show up . But here's one thing you have that the others don’t”

“ What is that ?” Fitz asked 

“ Your my number one and that means when I'm off saving the universe your in charge of watching over your siblings and you haven’t let me down yet bud” Jay said with a smile on his face as he pulled his son into a hug “  Dose that answer your Question bud?’ 

“Yeah it dose thanks Dad” Fitz replied. 

“Alright then “ Jay broke the hug “ now lets go find us some cool ass weapons for Val and /or find my part-” Jay was cut off  as someone warping their arms around his waist and lifted him up, As he was lifted into the air he felt two things some what pointing into his back. Then came the voice 

“First we find this place now your here Can it get any better “ Ezra said as they held the boyfriend in the air

“ Put me down and you’ll f’ind out” Jay said with a sly smile on his face  

“ Oh ok “ Ezra replied as they put jay down .Jay turned around and looked down to see Ezra’s orange eyes looking up to him. “ Now show me what could possible make to day better?” Ezra said 

‘ ok love get a look at this “ Jay said as what at first what looked like a belt in wrapped it's self. from jay’s waist and revealed it’s self to be a long thin red tail that that split into to different tails each one ended with a shape bone white bladed. It slowly swung side to side just hovering off the floor

Ezra’s eye widend as they saw the tail” When how may I touch it?” 

“ go a head but just before you can you take a look at what my boy can do” Jay said as he brought Fitz to the front 

“ Hi Ezra” Fits said as he waved his still Crystalized hand

“ Oh Hello Fitz. “  Ezra said as they walked over to Fitz “ May I “ They gestured towards the Crystalized hands 

“ Ok “ Fitz said  as they brought both hands up towards Ezra”

Ezra look at the crystalized hands. She notice Small cracks in the crystalized matter that covered the boys arms. They looked like scars” I’m guessing wasn’t natural?” Ezra asked 

“No” Fitz replied

“ Do you remember how you got this power and these scars. “ 

“ Yes no its all fuzzy to me. All I can remember was begin taken to a room and being told you won’t fell a thing” Fitz replied

“Ok next question How much of your body can change into this crystal. “ Ezra asked 

“ Just my arms “ 

“ Ok dose it hurt to do it” 

“No my arm just gets really soar if I keep it up for to long “

“ Alright Is there anything else this can do this ability of yours” 

“’ I can punch things and break them with out feeling any pain.” 

“ Yeah that's true “ Jay said as he remembered watching Fitz punching one of the destroyed sentry

“ Alright “ Ezra said as the looked back to Jay “ You seem to have a habit of picking up kids with weird abilities 

" Well Bastion is normal "

" That boy was able to protect a super power psychic seven years old in a infested city at the ago of nine he has something you just don't know it yet. " Erza said

" ok you got me there" jay replied

" And molly and clay are rapidly growing and mature " Fitz chimed in

"Wait who are Molly and Clay?” Ezra asked 

“ There my Little sisters” Fitz replied 

“ Oh so you’ve picked up two more Jay” 

“ Well yes and no I didn’t pick them up. I made them ?”  Jay questioned if that was the right thing to say 

“Wait you made them how show me. “ Ezra said as they grabbed onto Jays hand and booked back toward where they saw Jay and Fitz coming from. then stopped “  Uh where did you pack?” They asked 

‘ Wait didn’t you see us flying” 

“ No I was talking to some of the people working on one of the huge cube things “ Ezra replied 

“  We packed where you guys packed ok” Jay said 

“ Ok “ Ezra said as they still holding onto Jays hand ran towards where they parked. With Fitz running behind them 

“ But Jay what about the stuff you commissioned “

“ It can wait we have a few days until the quota on quota final battle and if you look up you can see its going to rain.” Jay said as he pointed to the sky. Fitz looked up to see gray clouds slowly over taking the sky followed by the sound of rumbling

“ Ok“ Fitz said as he double his speed as water slowly started to fall

A few minutes late in the Prometheus the rain was coming down hard and the sound of thunder crashed in the distends.

Jay was sitting on the couch talking to Ezra, Pidge, Isara  and Ryner about how the process of how gain seeds works. Bastion, Fitz, Usamu and Clay were watching the rain fall

“ So I take a drop of blood and boom you have a baby in six to eight weeks” Ezra said as they wrote done everything they just heard 

“yeah that's about it “Jay said as he held onto Molly as they slept

“ And why do you have something so expensive “ Pidge asked

“ My father’s side of the family are famous botanist and genetic scientists . I think my great great grandfather the only person my dad stays in contact with made them and gave a shit ton of the seed to him when my father decide to leave the family. He has a license to sell them and when I moved out I took some with me just in case my at the time boyfriend Remus decide to take the next step. But then that fell flat when that son of a bitch cheated on me with Zora Monk. then he try to take me to court and take half my stuff but jokes on him he never signed any papers. He left all of that to me. Sorry I’m rambling “ Jay said 

“ No it’s fine’ “ Ryner said 

“ Yeah kid your just tell use the detail we need to know. So why did you have this two anyway” ”  Isara asked

“ Tax deduction “ Jay said with out missing a bet. Everyone looked stunned at him .“ What it was a choose  made by a heart broken and near broke twenty four year old. Maybe I should have talked to my old man before making the choose. But hey because I made that choose I now have two daughters and three sons to take care of while traveling the universe. “ Jay said while a warm smile on his face  as he look at his sleeping daughter 

“ Well at least your happy “Ezra said smiling as the kissed jay on the cheek then returned to studying the seeds jay gave them  

“ Well I've head worst reasons to have a kid “ Isara said  as she looked over her shoulder to watch the other four kids.

‘Well as long as you don’t regret it “ Ryner said 

“ There are a lot of thing I regret. These five are not one of them.”   Jay replied as he did he felt a slight tugging at the back of his mind .” Yeah Val what's up” jay asked 

“ I just wanted to update you on the progress of contacting Vanguard” 

“ How's it going ?” Jay asked as he leaned against Ezra 

“ poorly it can’t seem to get the right freque-”  Val when quiet suddenly and Jay felt a surge of anger and fear 

“ Val what’s wrong?”

“ Something just broke the planet’s atmosphere.”  

“What”  Jay sat up suddenly 

“ What’s wrong” Ezra asked worried by the sudden movement 

“ Yeah kid what’s up “Isara asked 

“Something just broke atmosphere “Jay said

“ What is it ?” Pidge Asked now worried 

‘Don’t know give me a second “ Jay said as he closed his eye and saw through Val’s eyes “ What are we looking at Val ?” Jay asked as Val looked toward the falling object. Then fear gripped Jay as he saw six Robeast Coffins falling towards a nearby mountain rang  north of the city “  Six Coffins just broke  atmosphere ‘  Jay said as he opened his eyes looked at the other in the room 

Pidge had fear plaster on her face. While the others in the room looked on confused

“ What's a coffin “Ezra asked 

“ It’s going to take to long to explain. Just get ready for a fight  “ Pidge said as she got to he feet and moved quickly to the cockpit to call the other 

Without missing a beat Isara got up reached into her pocket and grabbed onto something that was followed by the sound of sirens going off .and the sound of people started to running around outside could be heard 

Ryner walked up to Jay “i’ll take care of the little ones while you head out “ 

“Thank you” Jay replied  as he handed off Molly to Ryner. Jay then turn to see his other kids moving away from the door. Jay quickly grabbed the salvager helmet and booked it towards the open Cargo bay door. As he did he passed by his  the other four kid still sitting their watching Slayer members scrambled into smaller mechs and  to fuel fighter and gunship

Fitz holding onto a confused looking Clay looked up to Jay and said “ Good luck and don’t die”

“ Stay safe out there.” Bastion said 

“ kick it in face” Usamu said 

“I’ll try “Jay said as he moved towards the Valkyrie 

“bye bye “ Clay said as she waved at her father 

Ja felt his heart melt a little as he put the helmet on an waved back.” Bye “ Jay replied as he entered the Valkyrie's mouth. As he sat down in the pilots seat he felt his phone ring and saw a text from Ezra [Stay safe out there ] Jay smiled as he saw that. He then grabbed onto the control sticks.He felt the engine’s roar to life.

The Valkyrie took to the sky and once they were far enough away from  the city the rocket forwards to the mountain rang where the coffins had landed. As he got there he found himself in front of a destroy mountain with a coffin smashed into it . Jay could see the dust cloud of where the other fie coffins landed.He Changed the Valkyrie into her combat mode and ready himself for what ever came out of the coffin as it slowly open  

#voltron #adashi #takashi shirogane #vld adam #OC #keith kogane #kidge #plance #lance mcclain #klance #hunk garrett #hunay #kidgance #palakids #rolo #NYMA #vld coran #au #CANON DIVERGENCE #Allura #lotura #vld shay #matt holt #RAX

[complures-aspiceres-archived]

Simeon’s Background

Fair warning that this is....LONG under the cut.

      In the game, we have virtually no background about Simeon except that he’s an exchange student from the Celestial realm and knew the brothers before they fell. He’s apparently close enough with Michael that he and the archangel used to call Lucifer ‘Lucy’, and is apparently quite old by humanity’s standards-- not only because he knew the brother as angels, but also by the fact that he states ‘Luke is still young’ when referring to his angelic companion. 

      Though I personally have done little research, there is apparently someone named Simeon in the bible, (  non-canonical books ), that was Jesus’; cousin. ( In some theories. )  Simeon was a person who followed Jesus and became a Saint, so we have Saint Simeon who (apparently) is really similar en terms of color skin/ hair to the Simeon of Obey Me!. 

There are five ( main ) Simeons mentioned in the canonical Bible, three of which in the New Testament: The first and most famous Simeon is the second son of Jacob and Leah, who exclaimed: "Because the Lord has heard that I am unloved, he has therefore given me this son also". So she named him Simeon. This Simeon also has a brother named LEVI. The only other Old Testament Simeon is one of the sons of Harim, who are mentioned among the men who divorced their foreign wives during the purge of Ezra. There are several Simeons in the New Testament, but the Simeons of the New Testament other than the son of Jacob are: The righteous man in Jerusalem who identifies the infant Jesus as the Messiah, an ancestor of Jesus, and a leader of the church in Antioch who was also called Niger. ( LAUGHS )

      Angel is a word that has been derived from Hebrew mal'akh and Greek angelos, which means messenger. Archangel is a word that has been derived from Greek archangelos, meaning chief angel. Angel is a messenger.. Archangel is the chief messenger or a higher messenger, who is above the angel.

      It can be ASSUMED, by the association that Simeon is close with Michael ( who is thought by many to essentially be the top archangel ), and that he is essentially a mentor to Luke-- who serves Michael directly, that it isn’t outside the realm of possibility for Simeon to be an archangel himself, or very close to it. If we take into account the theories of being a relative of ancestor of Jesus, this, in my opinion, would only fuel the idea of him at the very least being a very high ranking angel. 

When we look at the fact that the two human exchange students are a powerful sorcerer and someone who JUST SO HAPPENS to be a distant relative of the human Lilith, it would also be a reasonable assumptions that the Celestial Realm wouldn’t just send two REGULAR angels into the Devildom, especially when one of them is basically still learning. 

TLDR; Simeon is probably an archangel and has some close ties to God himself.

#{ Behind The Veil } ( ooc ) #headcanon #{ Character; Simeon } #this ended up being very long for something i intended to be done with in minutes #also spoilers for the game for anyone not yet at chapter 15/16

[devildownfiction]

You live in one of the great sanctuaries—a city protected by powerful spells. Beyond the city walls, bloodthirsty beasts have hunted your people to the brink of extinction. Today, without warning, the protective spells are broken, and the beasts have come to gorge.

This prompt is based off my free ebook. Here’s the prologue:

Screams filled the cold night air. Screams for help. Screams to run. Screams of pain. Screams of mourning.

Each scream was a map to Jenevrah, guiding her through the alleyways. She weaved through the dark cobblestone streets, avoiding the screams as much as possible. A scream to the right. Turn left. A scream up ahead. U-turn.

Feeders were everywhere. She couldn’t count how many, but the plenitude of prey increased her chances of escape. She just needed to make it to the fields unnoticed, and everything would be okay. She was close now. Just a few more streets.

A scream to the right, a quiet alley to the left. Jenevrah turned left and froze. A woman lay dead in the street, blood still oozing from the teeth marks on her neck. Jenevrah searched the shadows for any feeders, and finding herself alone, she tiptoed over the body and ran. Another scream, another alley, this time empty.

An explosion rocked the night, almost knocking her off her feet—this one more distant than the last. For several moments, the thunderous roar ricocheted off the surrounding mountains. Jenevrah looked back. On the horizon, fire and smoke billowed from the palace wall. It was over. The last great wall had fallen. The sanctuary was no more.

Jenevrah focused on the street, concentrating only on placing her feet. She was running as fast as she could without falling. She couldn’t risk tripping, not with the baby in her arms. Ezra howled his disapproval, his cries muffled by Jenevrah’s shoulder. She tried to hold his head steady, but it bounced violently with each stride; she couldn’t afford to slow down. Better this than dead.

So many had died already.

Finally, Jenevrah broke free from the buildings. The fields were quiet. The dead usually were. Their bodies littered the long dirt road, each with bite marks of their own. Two guards. A little boy. A tiny toddler. All dead. All victims of the feeders.

In the distance, a field of corn crops huddled together in the dark. Beyond that, the outer wall towered over the flatlands. It was presumed impenetrable… until tonight. That’s where Kildron would be waiting.

Just a little further.

A feeble cry pricked Jenevrah’s ears. Off to her left, a lanky figure hunched on its hands and knees, its bloody mouth buried in a young girl’s neck. A long black cloak, like devil’s wings, wrapped around the feeder. Beneath it, the poor girl was still alive. She writhed under its jaws and clawed helplessly at its back. Then, she fell still.

The feeder itself was nothing out of the ordinary, an average human face with a slender human body. At one point, it had been a man. But that was long ago, before it fed on human blood.

Jenevrah tried to walk quietly, but the sandy road crunched beneath her feet. At the sound of Jenevrah’s footsteps, the feeder’s head snapped up. She wasted no time. Jenevrah hugged her baby tight and sprinted for the camouflage of the corn foliage. She plunged into the corn stalks and, after several strides, dove to the soil. She huddled as still as possible, trying to silence her breathing. She hugged her son close and stroked his head to keep him quiet.

A subtle noise scratched at her eardrum: the scraping of leaves on skin. Peering through the corn rows, she saw the outline of the feeder against the starlight. It walked slowly through the stalks, waiting to pounce at the slightest movement. It took a step closer. Then, another. It stopped a few feet shy of Jenevrah and craned its neck to listen. A few moments passed… and then a few more.

“It’s alright. You can come out now,” the feeder called, its voice sweetly, deceivingly innocent. “Those monsters are gone. You’re safe to come out. I’ll protect you.”

Chills raced down Jenevrah’s spine. The voice was so gentle, so convincing. But Jenevrah knew better. She saw the bodies. She saw the blood dripping from its chin. How could something so intelligent be consumed by such evil?

The feeder paused a moment longer. “Fine!” it hissed, innocence replaced with rage. “We’ll have to do this the hard way. Lucky for me, I like my blood boiled.”

As easy as flipping a switch, the feeder’s hands ignited in a swirling mass of flame. As it extended its hands, the flames leapt to the nearest stalks. The burning leaves crackled as the heat drew nearer to Jenevrah. If she ran from the flames, the feeder would see her. If she didn’t, it would hear her dying screams.

I’m sorry Ezra. I’ve failed you. I’ve failed everyone.

As quietly as she could, she wrapped Ezra within her cloak, shielding him from the smoke that already choked her. The flames were only inches away. She grit her teeth as the heat seared her nerves.

God help me!

Shlink!

A knife buried itself in the feeder’s throat. The creature screeched and clawed at the blade before slinking to the ground. It thrashed amid the burning stalks for several seconds before submitting to its inevitable death. A moment later, the flames shrunk until they disappeared completely, snuffed out by an invisible blanket. Only the smoking skeletons of corn remained.

Jenevrah rose to her feet and spotted him instantly. He raced through the corn, his silhouette tall and lean. His features were hidden in the shadows of his cloak. Without thinking, Jenevrah ran to him, embracing her husband. She wrapped her arms around his neck while trying not to squish her infant. He was alive! Kildron was alive!

Kildron grabbed her by the face and kissed her mouth with a passion only desperation could inspire. His long blonde curls tickled her cheek. She squeezed her husband tight, laying her face on his damp chest, whether with sweat or blood, she couldn’t tell. Her hair tangled around his fingers as he stroked her head. His rapid breathing hissed in her ear. It was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard. It meant he was alive.

Jenevrah pulled away first, breaking the short moment of bliss. “Where’s Iris?” She asked, frantically searching for her in the dark. “Is she not with you?”

His voice whispered in short, gasping breaths. “Iris is fine. I sent her with Zane. They’re on their way to Kentville.”

Jenevrah breathed a sigh of relief. For now, her family was safe.

“Jen, there’s no time,” Kildron gasped. “The feeders have already breached the palace. You need to get out of here. Take Ezra and go to Kentville.”

Jenevrah opened her mouth to protest, but Kildron didn’t give her a chance. He shook her softly. “There’s no time; listen carefully. Zane will wait for you at the gas station. He’ll take Ezra to Cavernum. You’ll both be safe there.” His next words stung. “Don’t wait for me. I’ll find you again. I promise.”

Jenevrah clung to him. “You can’t face him alone, Kildron,” she pled. “He’s too strong. You’ll die!”

“I don’t have a choice. If he gets his hands on the library…” Kildron didn’t finish the sentence; he didn’t need to. Jenevrah couldn’t speak; only nod her head, tears dripping with each bounce.

Kildron’s head snapped up just as two feeders emerged from the city. They raced toward the embracing family with heart- stopping speed. Kildron kissed her one last time, so quick she wondered if it really happened. “Now, go!” He turned Jenevrah toward the outer wall and shoved her hard. “Go!!!”

Her instincts took over, and she stammered through the corn stalks. She only took a dozen steps before a blinding flash of lightning lit the field. The thunder rocked her almost instantly, a tortured scream buried within. Jenevrah didn’t look back. Twice more, lightning illuminated the flatland, the shockwave rustling the leaves around her. Her eyes blurred with tears as she ran. She didn’t even have time to say I love you. Her last words had been You’ll die.

Jenevrah hugged Ezra close, smearing his cheek with her tears. He was all that mattered now. More than her own life, more than her husband’s, Ezra had to live.