#Log home repairs

[livingstonenterprises]

Maintaining the beauty and functionality of your home requires regular attention and care. Whether you’re looking to breathe new life into a beloved piece of furniture or ensure the longevity of your log home, Livingston Enterprises is here to help. With expertise in furniture refinishing and log home repairs, we offer comprehensive services that transform and preserve the treasures in your home.

[pierswife]

There is nothing for me to do at wooooook Dad come pick me up /j

[truenorthrestoration1]

Log Home Restoration - True North Restoration Solutions

True North Restoration provides high-quality log home restoration services. Being the top restoration company in Ontario, there are many factors that separate us from the rest. Consistency, professionalism, and results all make a good log home rot repair company. Contact us for any repairs, replacements, or log home chinking needs.

[vulcanhello]

[timelesswoodcare]

The Ultimate Guide to Repairing Wood with Epoxy: Tips and Techniques

Wood is a timeless material cherished for its natural beauty and versatility. Whether it's a cherished antique piece of furniture or a vital structural element in your home, wood can suffer wear and tear over time. Thankfully, with the right tools and techniques, you can restore damaged wood to its former glory. To read our full blog, Click Here.....

[logbuildingmaintenance]

Log Building Maintenance and Restoration

Log Building Maintenance and Restoration is a family-owned and operated business. The Kuhns family has been involved with log homes for over 35 years and has extensive experience in manufacturing, building, and maintaining log homes all over the world.

Log Home Repair

[twowink]

robot idol aizo and yujiro and mechanic hiyori who keeps helping them with repairs. . .

..oh no now i'm thinking of intimacy of literally opening up your chest and heart to someone and trusting them to help you and fix your injuries. or yujiro and aizo being protective of hiyori because she can't just be fixed when she gets hurt but she still throws herself into danger to protect them. or aizo and yujiro being too embarrassed to confess to hiyori so they just tell her to read their data logs and she just finds record after record of them thinking about her and loving her...

AWUU ... I LOVE THAT

[phantomrose96]

Hello I've now played Pikmin 3 and I'm beside myself with how Nintendo keeps doing Olimar like this.

After Olimar pays off President's whole debt (and then some) in Pikmin 2 he is... back on PNF-404 in Pikmin 3. Immediately. Like immediately. Because the President lost all their money again and he's sent Olimar and Louie back to PNF-404 again exactly the same as happens to Olimar in Pikmin 2 and this time there is absolutely an undercurrent of violence in Olimar's vlogs and logs. He WANTS bad things to happen to his boss.

But he's too polite and too composed so he's just keeping his cortisol levels down with elaborate fantasies of class revolution, and the mental countdown of how many days until he can get the FUCK off this planet and get home to his family for real. He was ship-wrecked and left for dead for 30 days in Pikmin 1 and fought and bled and killed for his own survival to make it back to his planet only to then IMMEDIATELY be sent back by his shitty awful boss to the planet for another ~30 days in Pikmin 2 (he hasn't seen his family yet) and then IMMEDIATELY is sent back in Pikmin 3 and he wants to go home. He wants to go home. His daughter sends him a message asking if he even lives with them anymore. I'm fucking beside myself.

THIS would all be... okay, at least, if Olimar actually got to go home. But No The Fuck He Doesn't. Because at the end of his mission he's kidnapped by concentrated pikmin nightmare fuel in the form of the game's final boss. Some non-corporeal omnipresent monstrosity which has kidnapped Olimar as a keepsake. A pet. A toy? Which allows Olimar just the chance to attempt an escape day after day before snatching him back and dragging him back to his eternal jail cell. The man who was just about to go home and finally see his family after 3 games.

You find his logs and he's just losing his mind, slowly. He knows he's never escaping. He's losing his will to try. He has nightmares of the pikmin turning on him. Louie's not coming back for him and the President isn't coming back for him.

Pikmin 1 is horror as Olimar is stranded alone with no one but himself to save him. His life support is damaged and he has only 30 days to repair his ship to get home, lest he die in the poisonous atmosphere of this planet. And it's horrifying but at least. At least. He had his own power to save himself. He makes progress steadily over the month. He has reason to keep his hope alive.

Pikmin 3 robs him of that. There is nothing under his own power he can do to escape the Plasm Wraith. His pikmin have all been killed. He's in an unwinnable Saw trap. And this time his life support system isn't damaged. It's the only thing worse than damaged - it's completely functional.

Given that, playing as the Koppaite trio, there is no time limit to save Olimar, I can only conclude Olimar's suit is fully functional this time. He has no food, no water, no chance to ever change out of his suit, but it keeps him alive. He's the Plasm Wraith's prisoner for as long as that suit will keep him alive. Indefinitely, maybe. Unless he could work up the nerve to remove his helmet himself and just end it...

But he doesn't. Day after day he tries to escape until he doesn't have the strength anymore. His suit forces him to sleep more and more, against his will, as a life preservation method. So he's forced to fade in and out of consciousness as this thing's prisoner. And this is forever. Until he dies.

The Koppaite trio rescuing him is pure coincidence. They were on PNF-404 for reasons completely divorced from Olimar. They should never have cared who he was or where he was. Olimar just happened to come across their warp drive key when they crashed, and he picked it up, right before the Plasm Wraith took him. They find him for the warp drive key. The Koppaite trio weren't supposed to save Olimar. No one was supposed to save Olimar.

And how. Awful. Because this time people KNOW Olimar is on PNF-404. President is back home on Hocotate and knows he's lost contact with Louie and Olimar. He could send help but he doesn't. He could COME to help but he doesn't. Olimar isn't waywardly alone this time. He's abandoned. And abandoned by the man who forced him into this danger.

And depending how well you play, and how many fruits you get as the Koppaite trio, a normal run is probably 20-30 days for them BEFORE you rescue Olimar. He was taken soon after they landed. So a month. Another month. Of Olimar stranded on this planet. Worse than ever before, as he's nothing but the mouse being played with by this world's cruelest cat. He hasn't been allowed to take off his space suit for a month... After ~30 days of Pikmin 1 and ~30 of Pikmin 2 and now ~30 of Pikmin 3. His daugher thinks he doesn't live with them anymore...

And then... okay and then... the Koppaite trio rescue him... They offer to bring him home. And Olimar's beside himself because he never thought he was getting off this planet. Someone's shown kindness to him for the first time in 3 games and it takes him by absolute surprise.

He and Louie get home.

AND THE PRESIDENT CALLS THEM IDIOTS FOR LOSING THEIR SHIP AND SENDS THEM IMMEDIATELY BACK TO GET THE SHIP

THE PLASM WRAITH IS STILL THERE AND ALIVE.

IT IS LEGALLY AND ETHICALLY ALLOWED FOR OLIMAR TO KILL HIS BOSS.

[downbadf0rficppl]

always been you

Poe Dameron x F!Reader

Summary: Miscommunications happen. Less so when you work in communications, but they happen.

Word Count: 4.8K

Warnings: Slight blood warning, a smidge of angst, and a handful of smut :)

Repost

Home meant different things to different people. To some, it meant green rolling hills and the sound of wild animals running through the forests, some hunting, some hiding. To some, it looked more like the cold cityscapes of somewhere like Corellia or Daiyu - where day could be night and night could be day because the city never slept. More like the planet never slept.

To you, home meant a dark room in the back of the compound on D'Qar, where you sat for hours on end. It meant the whirring of plane engines and the whooshing of blast doors. It meant ration meals and celebrating when there were enough jogan fruits in season to make jogan fruitcake. It meant the constant fear that someone you loved may not come home.

You had grown up on Dantooine, maintaining the old rebel base there with your father - an ex-pilot with the rebellion. He'd taught you all about the world of space flight and you'd decided early on that maybe you preferred the ground. Oh, the irony.

At 19, you moved to Coruscant - under no threat from enemies, the base on Dantooine was not needed. You moved away to find a job that could give a life of comfort. Maybe you just needed some excitement in your life that didn't involve exploding wires or stealing your dad's glasses.

When General Organa started recruiting for the resistance, you were one of the first ones there. You distanced yourself from your father's legacy, not wanting the pressure of being someone's someone to be held over your head.

You settled into the anonymity of comms comfortably, making decent friends with your co-workers.

Days came and went working for the resistance. Soon enough, you'd been for a year, and then 2, and then it had been so long since you'd left Dantooine that you could barely remember what your life was like there.

The cantina was empty when you walked in. To your knowledge, black and blue squadrons were out on a field mission, but no one else was in sight. You walked around the base, looking for any signs of life. Dear Maker, had they all evacuated and forgotten about you.

You walked over to the med wing, hoping to see someone. And you saw, well, everyone. Apparently, half of those on base had come down with food poisoning. Wonderful.

You were called in to speak with General Organa, who assigned you double and triple shifts, considering you were the only one of 6 comms officers who hadn't come down with food poisoning. Wonderful.

You had spent all day, without rest, in comms, checking data logs for gold squadron, assisting in decoding transmission, and helping base mechanics with routine repairs. Essentially a normal day in the office, but six-fold the responsibilities. You went to bed, with your head swimming with responsibilities for the next day - hopefully, someone would be able to help you.

You woke up to the sound of your alarm blaring loudly. You groggily headed to the cantina for a cup of Caf before heading back to comms.

You picked some undecoded transmissions, before starting on some reports for General Organa. You barely had enough time to stop for a meal, grabbing the first thing you could see before heading back to comms.

Black and Blue squadron were currently MIA. They had radioed in earlier in the morning saying they were ok without radio connection while there was a shortage of comms officers. Still, it didn't mean you weren't worried about them.

"Black Leader to Base, come in."

You scrambled over to your headset and plugged it into the system, "Alpha 4 to Black Leader, you're a go for Base. What seems to be the problem?"

"We're running low on fuel, any republic supporters in the outer rim?" Poe's voice came through as you tried to lock on to his location.

"Where you are, the chances are slim, Black Leader." You sighed, as his location pops up on the screen. He was so far in the Outer Rim, where so many remained Empire supporters. Even with many ports on neighbouring planets, there were few ways that they could make it out of them safely.

You had an idea. "Black Leader, can you make a single jump."

"Just about."

"I'll send the coordinates, get ready to jump."

While Black and Blue Squadron jumped, you connected another line.

"Hi, dad."

"Hi, sweetheart." Your father's tired voice rang through the headset, "What can I do for you?"

"I'm sorry to bother you, dad-"

"It's ok, sweetheart. What do you need?"

"I have 2 squadrons that need fuel. Any chance you could help?"

"Of course, sweetheart. In fact, I've just seen them enter the atmosphere."

"Thanks, dad. Love you."

"I love you too."

Your dad cut the line to go and help the pilots. You swallowed the lump in your throat. You always felt guilty asking your father for help. He never quite knew how to say no.

You stayed up well into the early hours of the morning, signing off paperwork and compiling mission reports for Captain Dameron and Captain Wexley to sign off on.

In fact, you had worked so late that you heard Black and Blue Squadron's land the next morning. You heard them raucously walk through the halls to the cantina. You sighed. A small break wouldn't do any harm, right?

Wrong. As soon as you got up, a beeping from your headset rang through the room. General Holdo needed some data to do with her mission, so you were back to sifting through mission reports to send her what she needed.

By the time, you had signed off with her, Jak (one of your fellow comms officers) strolled into comms.

He ruffled your hair affectionately, "You're a legend, four."

You had known Jak since your days on Coruscant. You had shared an apartment when you were new to the city and he really showed you the ropes. You probably wouldn't be as trusted by the resistance as you were, had it not been for Jak.

"How are you feeling?" You asked, eyes still trained on the screen.

"I'm fine." He settled down next to you, grabbing a headset, "You, on the other hand, have seen better days. Maker, have you even looked at yourself in the mirror!"

You punched him in the arm, "My name's not Captain I-cannot-survive-without-my-mirrors Dameron." He feigned an injury, falling onto the floor and hollering in pain. The delirium of sleep deprivation was getting you, as you doubled over in fits of giggles, tears streaming down your face.

In fact, you were laughing so hard, you didn't even hear Captain Dameron walk in.

"What's so funny?" He said, walking in and clapping Jak on the back. The two of you looked at each other, and burst into more fits of giggles. "You know what, I'm just not going to ask." Jak handed him the stack of papers that you had left for him to sign off.

Dameron walked out with the sheets, and you stood up to stretch your back. "You should get some food in you," Jak nods towards the Cantina, "I can hold the fort down until you get back."

The cantina is practically empty when you walk in, and you grab a sandwich before heading back to comms. What greets you is a relieving sight. Two of the other comms officers have returned to comms.

"You look rough," Drex said, nursing a healing tonic from med bay. Clearly, they were still suffering the after-effects of the food poisoning.

"So, I've been told," you elbowed Jak in the ribs as he laughed heartily. You sat down and returned to the paperwork you had left behind. A connection came in, which Jak responded to immediately.

After a beat, he beckoned you over, handing you the headset, "It's your favourite. Captain Dameron."

You let out a huff, before putting the headset on. You sat down.

"Alpha 4 for Black Leader, you're a go."

"Well, hello, my new favourite comms officer. How are you on this fine morning?" He said, smugness colouring his tone as he prepared to take off.

"I hope you aren't trying to flirt with me, Poe?" You smirked through your question.

"Oh, I am. I most definitely am." Poe laughed.

"How unfortunate for you." Poe laughed again.

You led him through his routine surveillance trip, making funny quips throughout. Poe responds almost exclusively through chortles and guffaws.

"How come I've never actually spoken to you on base?"

"I don't know, maybe because you've always got one of those pretty girls on your arm?"

"Oh, you're real pretty, Alpha 4, just gotta give me a chance, hun." Poe thought you were pretty.

You laugh again, "In your dreams, Captain."

There was a beat of silence, before Poe piped up, "someone special at home?" You swallow guiltily.

Ever since you first met Poe, you had been head over heels in love with him. Sure he was good-looking, and his reputation in the bedroom preceded him, but beyond that, he was charming, funny, and he cared. About everyone. Not just his superiors, or his friends, but even stupid kids who had no idea what they were doing when they landed on base.

You thought of his face, his beautifully warm brown eyes, his stupidly floppy hair, "Yeah, someone real special. I'm just hoping he'll give me a chance back on base."

"He'd be stupid not to."

"You're just saying that."

"I mean it, 4, he'd have to be blind to not see what a catch you are." You can tell by Poe's tone that he is being genuine.

"Thanks, Poe, you're clear to return to base. See on the other side."

You hear Poe land as you head back to your room. He calls your name as he is walking.

"Hey, 4, wait up!" You wait patiently as he, and BB8, catch up to you. "About this guy."

"Poe, let it go."

"I'm serious, 4. I can help you get that date."

"No, I mean it, Poe. Let it go. You can't help me here." You stare straight into his eyes. Big mistake. You get lost easily, wanting to let the warmth cocoon you into a false safety until the rest of eternity.

You shake yourself back to reality, walking away from him and leaving him confused and annoyed.

Days pass, and you find that Poe has pushed himself further and further away from you. You were still his chosen comms officer, but he avoided you on the base. You felt bad. He'd practically confessed that he thought you were pretty and you'd turned him away, letting him believe that there was someone you were pining after. Even though that person was Poe.

You had tried to talk to Poe before he went on a mission alone to Coruscant, but he walked away, feigning that he was busy. He even deflected your questions in the air, and turned his transmission signal off when he got to Coruscant. You were fuming.

How dare he put himself in danger with no chance of backup?

Realistically, your anger wasn't anger at all. You were worried for Poe. Even if he wasn't your Poe.

You vowed to have that conversation with him when he returned.

Poe couldn't stop thinking about you. He hadn't since he first spoke to you about 6 months ago. Before that, he just thought you were pretty. But once he realised that, not only were you beautiful, but you were also smart and had a sarcasm to match his, well he was a goner.

When you told him, that there was someone else, he saw red. He wanted to put his first through the fucker's face, but goddammit, he would do anything to help you.

So he offered to help you get that date. It was a mostly harmless offer, and he didn't really expect you to take him up on it, but he put it out there nonetheless.

What he didn't expect was for you to raise your voice and storm away. He was shocked.

He figured he overstepped some undrawn boundary, and he felt guilty. So he tried to give you space, give you distance. He'd give you anything if you even mentioned it once. But, jealousy took over his previously well-intentioned thoughts. If you wanted someone else, fine, you could have them. But Poe couldn't watch you get them.

He didn't want to take the mission on Coruscant. He wasn't a spy, he was a flamboyant and show-off-y pilot. But he didn't want to see you in another man's arms. So he took it.

That was what landed him in his current predicament: tied to a chair in the basement of one Zek Shadej - an ex-smuggler who turned to an arms dealership for the higher paycheck.

Zek slaps Poe. He demands, once again, to know what a pilot for the Resistance is doing at a gala for the low lives of the galaxy. He didn't word it that way but the sentiment still stands. Poe says nothing, just spitting a mixture of blood and saliva at Zek's shoes. Zek curses and heads to the door: "I'm done with him. Dispose of him."

The guards left in the room stalk toward him, blasters unsheathed and ready to fire. Poe uses the pin you gave him to cut through the ropes binding his hands.

It was his fifth birthday on base, he reckoned. With different systems, and different lengths of orbits, it was hard to know for sure, but he knew the rest of Black Squadron were planning his celebration for today. So he remained in bed, lying on top of the sheets, head propped up on his arm.

A gentle knock rang through his room. He'd told the person to come in, and you did. Armed with a giddy smile and a small wrapped package. Poe had no idea where you had found wrapping paper, or why you would buy him a present but here you were.

"Jess said it was your birthday today. Thought I'd give you something neat." You said, approaching him nervously. He swung his legs and sat upright, pulling your arm so you were standing right in front of him. He looks up at you through his eyelashes, taking in your kind face. You and Poe were hardly friends, but how he wished you could be more.

"So, what did you get for me, pretty girl?" Poe rests his callous hardened hands on your hips - he liked the feel of your soft skin under his palms. He also liked how sensitive you were to his touch - your flushed expression and lust-filled gaze confirmed it.

You handed him the small parcel, "I hope you like it."

He takes it from you, pulling you to sit beside him. He opens it with careful hands to find a small pin. A Yavin Parakeet. Poe's favourite bird.

"They used to symbolise freedom. Like you do." You whispered the last part.

Poe had never wanted to kiss you so much.

Poe threw the chair he had been sitting on at one of the guards. He landed on the floor with a loud groan, his blaster skidding to a halt at Poe's feet. It was Poe's lucky day.

He shot the other 2 guards, dashing out of the basement onto the catering floor. He escaped through a back door, a few of the staff giving his bloody face and dishevelled appearance a double look. He sprinted through the streets to a docking station a few miles east. Zek sent a few men after him, but Poe was smart, and he knew Coruscant well. He dodged the men, and fired up his X-wing. He had Leia's intel safely stored in his shirt pocket.

His X-wing was severely damaged - his landing gear compromised and the transmission antenna bent at an awkward angle. He took off precariously - he knew he'd have to stop somewhere to fix the ship and refuel. He remembered the old outpost on Dantooine. Your dad's outpost.

He lightspeed jumped into the sector, breaking through the atmosphere mere seconds later. The landing was rough and he saw your father running towards the ship, blaster raised.

"Come out, slowly and unarmed. Do anything I don't like the look of, and I shoot."

"It's me. It's Poe. I came by a couple of days ago. I promise I mean no harm."

The old man lowered his blaster. He tucked his shoulder under Poe and helped him inside, "Let's get you looked at, son." Despite the pain, Poe smiled. Son. He liked that.

Your father patched Poe up, offering him a nice meal and a shower. While Poe cleaned up, your father called you.

"Hey, dad, what can I do for you?" You respond, your brain still focussed on the transmissions you were decoding.

"I wouldn't call if it wasn't necessary-"

"I know, Dad. What do you need?"

"I got one of your guys," your ears pricked up, "and his ship is damaged. I need to know how to fix it. Think you can help?"

"Yeah, of course. I don't remember sending anyone your way though, think you can tell me who it is?"

Your dad grunts as he climbs up the ladder, radio tucked under his chin, "yeah, it's the pretty boy from a few days ago. The captain. Can't remember his name."

"It's Dameron. Who're you talking to?" Poe comes out wiping his hands on a towel. Despite this man being your father, years in the resistance had warned him against trusting strangers.

"My daughter. She's telling me how to fix your ship."

"4? I wouldn't trust her anywhere near my ship."

"I heard that you know," you laughed. You brought up the specs for the X-wing, "I'll send you a copy of the spec - that's probably more useful than anything I have to say."

Your dad laughed and you sent him the specs.

"Good luck, boys," you ended the transmission.

The rest of the day was spent fixing the ship. Poe and your dad made good small talk - they were both pilots. They had a lot in common. They also both loved you. They had that in common too.

"Go clean up, Poe. I'll make us dinner." Your father said, standing up and heading toward the kitchen. Poe smiled. He liked this life.

Poe was back on base by nightfall the next day. You waited for him as he got checked up on in med, and then you walked with him to his room. The silence was deafening.

You followed him into his room, watched his every movement. He milled about, putting on clean clothes, washing his hands, and combing through his hair. His whole body was still tensed up from the mission - you wanted to stop him, hug him, do something. But you couldn't. He didn't want you near him. He was angry at you, and rightfully so.

"Your dad's nice." You looked up at him. Poe still had his back turned, but his shoulder had relaxed. You wanted to run your fingers down his back. "Peculiar, but nice."

You smiled softly, "He's lonely. Not that fun living on an abandoned base in the middle of nowhere."

Poe sat down on his chair, and you walked towards him. You placed your hands on his shoulder, gently soothing the knots out of his muscles. He leaned his head back, a low moan of satisfaction left his throat. The sound went straight through your body, eliciting shivers.

"Talk to me. Tell me what went wrong," you whispered in his ear, not wanting to break the calmness that swept through the room.

Poe shook his head, bringing you in front of him. He leaned his head against your stomach, hands coming to rest at your hips. You tangled your fingers in his hair, and he grunted in appreciation. You shivered again.

He chuckled, "you like that?" Your face blushed a bright red. Poe laughed again, before leaning to kiss your stomach. He kissed up through the valley in between your breasts, and up your neck. He stayed there for a minute, nipping and suckling at your neck, before making his way to your face.

He was fully standing now, his hands moved to your face, and he gently dotted kisses everywhere. Your cheeks. Your eyes, which had fallen shut at his ministrations. Your forehead, then your chin. He kissed the sides of your lips, and you let out a soft moan, begging for more.

"Greedy, are we?" He asked, his voice much lower than before. You opened your eyes to see a smug grin painted on his face. You didn't care.

You grabbed his face and brought his lips to yours. It seems he got the memo because as soon as his lips touched yours, he took over. His tongue slipped into your mouth and stroked yours gently.

He tapped your thigh gently, a signal to jump, and he carried you over to his bed, depositing you on the edge gently, dislodging his lips from yours. He knelt down in front of the bed, pulling your closer to him by your legs.

"Tell me to stop." He looked up at you, his pupils blown wide, as he took your dishevelled appearance in. Like a predator looks at his prey.

"Please don't."

He pulled your boots and cargo pants off, kissing up your legs. The arousal pooled between your legs, and you moan.

"So fucking wet, and I haven't even touched you yet." You whine pathetically, trying to pull Poe closer to where you want him. He just laughs.

"Bet the other guy couldn't do this to you. That's why you need me, ain't that right?" You whine again, "Need me to take care of you, baby girl, ain't that right?"

"Please, Poe."

"Please what, baby girl? What do you need?" Poe whispers, cheekiness glinting in his eyes.

"Please, fuck me, Poe." He smiled.

"As you wish."

He pulled your underwear down your legs and stared enamoured between your trembling things, "Such a pretty fucking pussy."

You threw your head back as he dove face-first into your folds. He kissed your mound lightly, before rubbing soothing circles around your clit. You buck up, the pleasure unlike any you've ever known, and Poe presses a hand onto your abdomen, locking you in place.

"Don't deprive me of my meal, honey," He whispers into your pussy.

He continues his assault, testing the waters of what you did and didn't like. You liked when he went fast, when he went slow, you got impatient. Maybe it was time to teach you some patience. But the low whines and moans were too much for Poe to bear. Soon your thighs were clamped around his head as you let out a loud moan, and you came undone under his touch. He lapped up every last bit of your release as if he'd been left in the deserts of Jakku without any water for years. And the moans. Oh Maker, his moans. You thought it impossible for a man to enjoy himself that much. But from the way he gripped your thighs, and pulled his body in further, you could tell he never wanted to pull away.

You laid limp on the bed as Poe stood up, and peeled his clothes off his body. You stared shamelessly. It wasn't the first time you'd seen Poe shirtless, but you'd barred yourself from staring then. Now it was allowed.

He smiled at your shameless ogling, and grabbed your hand, pulling you to stand up, pressed against him. You could feel his still-clothed cock, pushing into your abdomen, and you could feel it throbbing at the contact. You sunk down onto your knees, hands fiddling with his zipper.

He pulled you away and shook his head. "Not now."

He pushes you back onto the bed and crawls over you, his lips reconnecting to yours. He had unzipped his pants and kicked off his boots, leaving a pile on the floor.

"Tell me if it hurts." Poe kisses under your jaw before pushing inside.

Holy Maker, he's big.

His cock stretches you out deliciously. He pushes into you until he's settled within you and waits for you to adjust. The initial pain fades into pleasure and soon you're begging for him to move.

"You sound so pretty when you beg, baby. Bet you wouldn't beg for anyone else." Nevertheless, he moves.

He starts slow, getting used to feeling you around him. You want more.

"Please, Poe. Faster. Please, please, please." You beg him, screams ripping through your throat.

He picks up the pace, relentless now. Fast and hard. The room filled with the sounds of skin slapping skin, mixed together with both your moans. You feel the pressure building up and your moans get louder. Poe chased his own release as you got closer and closer to the edge.

"Poe, I'm gonna... gonna come. Please, Poe..." Poe slowed down a fraction, pulling you further from the edge. You whined pathetically.

"Tell me you're mine. Only mine." You smiled through your lust-induced haze.

"Only yours, Poe. Always yours." He picked up the pace again, and the coil begins to tighten. Poe's moans push you over the edge, and you cum hard. So hard that your whole body feels electrified, your toes curling in pleasure. Poe fucks you through your high, turning your entire body to jelly. He pulls out and shoots his ropes over your body.

You smile. You lift a finger up to your chest and lick Poe's cum off your chest, moaning at the taste. The filth of the act clearly affected Poe, as his eyes closed in pleasure. He moaned lowly, grabbing your hands and pressing kisses to them. You closed your eyes, falling back onto the bed.

Poe disappeared into the refresher, grabbing a clean towel and dampening it, before returning to clean you up. You looked confused. No one had ever done that for you before. He wiped your chest and between your thighs, before carrying you to the bathroom. You washed your face and brushed your teeth with one of the spare toothbrushes in Poe's refresher, before heading back out.

Poe was gone.

You were confused, given that he had changed his sheets and left you a spare t-shirt and pair of boxers to change into. You sat down on the edge of his bed, stretching your legs, a pleasant ache settling between them. Where the hell could he have gone?

A few seconds late, someone knocked, "Are you decent?" Poe.

"Yeah, come in." You stood up, shuffling your feet. Poe walked in, shirt almost completely undone, carrying 2 bottles of water from the cantina. Your heart almost burst.

He opened one of the bottles handing it to you, before leading you back to bed. You took a few sips, the coldness soothing your throat that was raw from screaming.

He laid back on his bed and beckoned your closer to him. You curled into his arms and reached up to fiddle with his hair. You both sat in silent reverie - taking in each other's company.

"Will I see you again?" Poe broke the silence timidly, running a knuckle over your cheek.

"You see me every day, Poe," You tease him gently, "You see me in the corridors, and in the cantina, and sometimes even after you get back from a mission." Poe slapped your ass, causing you to burst into laughter. He pulls you closer to his body.

"I mean it. Is this just a one-time thing? Given your - um - crush on the other guy?" You stay silent, "Is he a pilot? Is that why you're not telling me?" You nod your head, trying to hide your smile. You felt bad for not telling him, but it was funny.

"He's a pilot. But that's not why I'm not telling you." Poe frowns, creases appearing between his eyebrows.

"Is he a superior officer? Does he live on base?"

You decide to keep teasing him, "Yeah, he's a Captain." You look into Poe's eyes. "He's definitely my favourite person on base." Poe's frown turns into a scowl.

"He has the most beautiful brown eyes and the most amazing hair that I always want to run my fingers through," You tangle your hair in his, pulling it just the way he likes. "He's cocky, and he's so sexy. And he knows that he's sexy too." Poe tries pushing you away, rolling from his side to his back, but you just cling to him tighter. You place a kiss on his jaw and then on his ear.

"Why are you here, then? In my bed? In my clothes?" He says, jealousy and annoyance evident in his voice. You feel bad.

"You wanna know his name?"

"Not really. Then I'd know who I wanna punch, but I still wouldn't be able to do it."

"I don't really think it's possible to punch yourself." Poe turns to face you, the jealousy in his eyes fading into hope.

"What?" You just smile. "You love me?"

"I didn't lie, Poe. I'm yours. Always yours." He kisses you, hard, not giving you any space to breathe.

"You're not just saying that," He breathes, pulling away just enough to speak. You reconnect your lips to his, and he pulls you on top of him, your thighs around his torso. You look deep into his eyes, his pupils so dilated as if he couldn't get enough of you.

"It's always been you."

fin.

buy me a coffee

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[d0wnb4df0rf1cm3n]

Always been you.

Poe Dameron x AFAB!Reader

Summary: Miscommunications happen. Less so when you work in communications, but they happen.

Word Count: 4.8K

Warnings: Slight blood warning, a smidge of angst, and a handful of smut :)

AN: This one's been sat in the drafts for a while. I can't lie, the whole time I was writing this I was thinking about popcorn - so imma go get myself some. Enjoy! (P.S. requests are open!!)

Home meant different things to different people. To some, it meant green rolling hills and the sound of wild animals running through the forests, some hunting, some hiding. To some, it looked more like the cold cityscapes of somewhere like Corellia or Daiyu - where day could be night and night could be day because the city never slept. More like the planet never slept.

To you, home meant a dark room in the back of the compound on D'Qar, where you sat for hours on end. It meant the whirring of plane engines and the whooshing of blast doors. It meant ration meals and celebrating when there were enough jogan fruits in season to make jogan fruitcake. It meant the constant fear that someone you loved may not come home.

You had grown up on Dantooine, maintaining the old rebel base there with your father - an ex-pilot with the rebellion. He'd taught you all about the world of space flight and you'd decided early on that maybe you preferred the ground. Oh, the irony.

At 19, you moved to Coruscant - under no threat from enemies, the base on Dantooine was not needed. You moved away to find a job that could give a life of comfort. Maybe you just needed some excitement in your life that didn't involve exploding wires or stealing your dad's glasses.

When General Organa started recruiting for the resistance, you were one of the first ones there. You distanced yourself from your father's legacy, not wanting the pressure of being someone's someone to be held over your head.

You settled into the anonymity of comms comfortably, making decent friends with your co-workers.

Days came and went working for the resistance. Soon enough, you'd been for a year, and then 2, and then it had been so long since you'd left Dantooine that you could barely remember what your life was like there.

The cantina was empty when you walked in. To your knowledge, black and blue squadrons were out on a field mission, but no one else was in sight. You walked around the base, looking for any signs of life. Dear Maker, had they all evacuated and forgotten about you.

You walked over to the med wing, hoping to see someone. And you saw, well, everyone. Apparently, half of those on base had come down with food poisoning. Wonderful.

You were called in to speak with General Organa, who assigned you double and triple shifts, considering you were the only one of 6 comms officers who hadn't come down with food poisoning. Wonderful.

You had spent all day, without rest, in comms, checking data logs for gold squadron, assisting in decoding transmission, and helping base mechanics with routine repairs. Essentially a normal day in the office, but six-fold the responsibilities. You went to bed, with your head swimming with responsibilities for the next day - hopefully, someone would be able to help you.

You woke up to the sound of your alarm blaring loudly. You groggily headed to the cantina for a cup of Caf before heading back to comms.

You picked some undecoded transmissions, before starting on some reports for General Organa. You barely had enough time to stop for a meal, grabbing the first thing you could see before heading back to comms.

Black and Blue squadron were currently MIA. They had radioed in earlier in the morning saying they were ok without radio connection while there was a shortage of comms officers. Still, it didn't mean you weren't worried about them.

"Black Leader to Base, come in."

You scrambled over to your headset and plugged it into the system, "Alpha 4 to Black Leader, you're a go for Base. What seems to be the problem?"

"We're running low on fuel, any republic supporters in the outer rim?" Poe's voice came through as you tried to lock on to his location.

"Where you are, the chances are slim, Black Leader." You sighed, as his location pops up on the screen. He was so far in the Outer Rim, where so many remained Empire supporters. Even with many ports on neighbouring planets, there were few ways that they could make it out of them safely.

You had an idea. "Black Leader, can you make a single jump."

"Just about."

"I'll send the coordinates, get ready to jump."

While Black and Blue Squadron jumped, you connected another line.

"Hi, dad."

"Hi, sweetheart." Your father's tired voice rang through the headset, "What can I do for you?"

"I'm sorry to bother you, dad-"

"It's ok, sweetheart. What do you need?"

"I have 2 squadrons that need fuel. Any chance you could help?"

"Of course, sweetheart. In fact, I've just seen them enter the atmosphere."

"Thanks, dad. Love you."

"I love you too."

Your dad cut the line to go and help the pilots. You swallowed the lump in your throat. You always felt guilty asking your father for help. He never quite knew how to say no.

You stayed up well into the early hours of the morning, signing off paperwork and compiling mission reports for Captain Dameron and Captain Wexley to sign off on.

In fact, you had worked so late that you heard Black and Blue Squadron's land the next morning. You heard them raucously walk through the halls to the cantina. You sighed. A small break wouldn't do any harm, right?

Wrong. As soon as you got up, a beeping from your headset rang through the room. General Holdo needed some data to do with her mission, so you were back to sifting through mission reports to send her what she needed.

By the time, you had signed off with her, Jak (one of your fellow comms officers) strolled into comms.

He ruffled your hair affectionately, "You're a legend, four."

You had known Jak since your days on Coruscant. You had shared an apartment when you were new to the city and he really showed you the ropes. You probably wouldn't be as trusted by the resistance as you were, had it not been for Jak.

"How are you feeling?" You asked, eyes still trained on the screen.

"I'm fine." He settled down next to you, grabbing a headset, "You, on the other hand, have seen better days. Maker, have you even looked at yourself in the mirror!"

You punched him in the arm, "My name's not Captain I-cannot-survive-without-my-mirrors Dameron." He feigned an injury, falling onto the floor and hollering in pain. The delirium of sleep deprivation was getting you, as you doubled over in fits of giggles, tears streaming down your face.

In fact, you were laughing so hard, you didn't even hear Captain Dameron walk in.

"What's so funny?" He said, walking in and clapping Jak on the back. The two of you looked at each other, and burst into more fits of giggles. "You know what, I'm just not going to ask." Jak handed him the stack of papers that you had left for him to sign off.

Dameron walked out with the sheets, and you stood up to stretch your back. "You should get some food in you," Jak nods towards the Cantina, "I can hold the fort down until you get back."

The cantina is practically empty when you walk in, and you grab a sandwich before heading back to comms. What greets you is a relieving sight. Two of the other comms officers have returned to comms.

"You look rough," Drex said, nursing a healing tonic from med bay. Clearly, they were still suffering the after-effects of the food poisoning.

"So, I've been told," you elbowed Jak in the ribs as he laughed heartily. You sat down and returned to the paperwork you had left behind. A connection came in, which Jak responded to immediately.

After a beat, he beckoned you over, handing you the headset, "It's your favourite. Captain Dameron."

You let out a huff, before putting the headset on. You sat down.

"Alpha 4 for Black Leader, you're a go."

"Well, hello, my new favourite comms officer. How are you on this fine morning?" He said, smugness colouring his tone as he prepared to take off.

"I hope you aren't trying to flirt with me, Poe?" You smirked through your question.

"Oh, I am. I most definitely am." Poe laughed.

"How unfortunate for you." Poe laughed again.

You led him through his routine surveillance trip, making funny quips throughout. Poe responds almost exclusively through chortles and guffaws.

"How come I've never actually spoken to you on base?"

"I don't know, maybe because you've always got one of those pretty girls on your arm?"

"Oh, you're real pretty, Alpha 4, just gotta give me a chance, hun." Poe thought you were pretty.

You laugh again, "In your dreams, Captain."

There was a beat of silence, before Poe piped up, "someone special at home?" You swallow guiltily.

Ever since you first met Poe, you had been head over heels in love with him. Sure he was good-looking, and his reputation in the bedroom preceded him, but beyond that, he was charming, funny, and he cared. About everyone. Not just his superiors, or his friends, but even stupid kids who had no idea what they were doing when they landed on base.

You thought of his face, his beautifully warm brown eyes, his stupidly floppy hair, "Yeah, someone real special. I'm just hoping he'll give me a chance back on base."

"He'd be stupid not to."

"You're just saying that."

"I mean it, 4, he'd have to be blind to not see what a catch you are." You can tell by Poe's tone that he is being genuine.

"Thanks, Poe, you're clear to return to base. See on the other side."

You hear Poe land as you head back to your room. He calls your name as he is walking.

"Hey, 4, wait up!" You wait patiently as he, and BB8, catch up to you. "About this guy."

"Poe, let it go."

"I'm serious, 4. I can help you get that date."

"No, I mean it, Poe. Let it go. You can't help me here." You stare straight into his eyes. Big mistake. You get lost easily, wanting to let the warmth cocoon you into a false safety until the rest of eternity.

You shake yourself back to reality, walking away from him and leaving him confused and annoyed.

Days pass, and you find that Poe has pushed himself further and further away from you. You were still his chosen comms officer, but he avoided you on the base. You felt bad. He'd practically confessed that he thought you were pretty and you'd turned him away, letting him believe that there was someone you were pining after. Even though that person was Poe.

You had tried to talk to Poe before he went on a mission alone to Coruscant, but he walked away, feigning that he was busy. He even deflected your questions in the air, and turned his transmission signal off when he got to Coruscant. You were fuming.

How dare he put himself in danger with no chance of backup?

Realistically, your anger wasn't anger at all. You were worried for Poe. Even if he wasn't your Poe.

You vowed to have that conversation with him when he returned.

Poe couldn't stop thinking about you. He hadn't since he first spoke to you about 6 months ago. Before that, he just thought you were pretty. But once he realised that, not only were you beautiful, but you were also smart and had a sarcasm to match his, well he was a goner.

When you told him, that there was someone else, he saw red. He wanted to put his first through the fucker's face, but goddammit, he would do anything to help you.

So he offered to help you get that date. It was a mostly harmless offer, and he didn't really expect you to take him up on it, but he put it out there nonetheless.

What he didn't expect was for you to raise your voice and storm away. He was shocked.

He figured he overstepped some undrawn boundary, and he felt guilty. So he tried to give you space, give you distance. He'd give you anything if you even mentioned it once. But, jealousy took over his previously well-intentioned thoughts. If you wanted someone else, fine, you could have them. But Poe couldn't watch you get them.

He didn't want to take the mission on Coruscant. He wasn't a spy, he was a flamboyant and show-off-y pilot. But he didn't want to see you in another man's arms. So he took it.

That was what landed him in his current predicament: tied to a chair in the basement of one Zek Shadej - an ex-smuggler who turned to an arms dealership for the higher paycheck.

Zek slaps Poe. He demands, once again, to know what a pilot for the Resistance is doing at a gala for the low lives of the galaxy. He didn't word it that way but the sentiment still stands. Poe says nothing, just spitting a mixture of blood and saliva at Zek's shoes. Zek curses and heads to the door: "I'm done with him. Dispose of him."

The guards left in the room stalk toward him, blasters unsheathed and ready to fire. Poe uses the pin you gave him to cut through the ropes binding his hands.

It was his fifth birthday on base, he reckoned. With different systems, and different lengths of orbits, it was hard to know for sure, but he knew the rest of Black Squadron were planning his celebration for today. So he remained in bed, lying on top of the sheets, head propped up on his arm.

A gentle knock rang through his room. He'd told the person to come in, and you did. Armed with a giddy smile and a small wrapped package. Poe had no idea where you had found wrapping paper, or why you would buy him a present but here you were.

"Jess said it was your birthday today. Thought I'd give you something neat." You said, approaching him nervously. He swung his legs and sat upright, pulling your arm so you were standing right in front of him. He looks up at you through his eyelashes, taking in your kind face. You and Poe were hardly friends, but how he wished you could be more.

"So, what did you get for me, pretty girl?" Poe rests his callous hardened hands on your hips - he liked the feel of your soft skin under his palms. He also liked how sensitive you were to his touch - your flushed expression and lust-filled gaze confirmed it.

You handed him the small parcel, "I hope you like it."

He takes it from you, pulling you to sit beside him. He opens it with careful hands to find a small pin. A Yavin Parakeet. Poe's favourite bird.

"They used to symbolise freedom. Like you do." You whispered the last part.

Poe had never wanted to kiss you so much.

Poe threw the chair he had been sitting on at one of the guards. He landed on the floor with a loud groan, his blaster skidding to a halt at Poe's feet. It was Poe's lucky day.

He shot the other 2 guards, dashing out of the basement onto the catering floor. He escaped through a back door, a few of the staff giving his bloody face and dishevelled appearance a double look. He sprinted through the streets to a docking station a few miles east. Zek sent a few men after him, but Poe was smart, and he knew Coruscant well. He dodged the men, and fired up his X-wing. He had Leia's intel safely stored in his shirt pocket.

His X-wing was severely damaged - his landing gear compromised and the transmission antenna bent at an awkward angle. He took off precariously - he knew he'd have to stop somewhere to fix the ship and refuel. He remembered the old outpost on Dantooine. Your dad's outpost.

He lightspeed jumped into the sector, breaking through the atmosphere mere seconds later. The landing was rough and he saw your father running towards the ship, blaster raised.

"Come out, slowly and unarmed. Do anything I don't like the look of, and I shoot."

"It's me. It's Poe. I came by a couple of days ago. I promise I mean no harm."

The old man lowered his blaster. He tucked his shoulder under Poe and helped him inside, "Let's get you looked at, son." Despite the pain, Poe smiled. Son. He liked that.

Your father patched Poe up, offering him a nice meal and a shower. While Poe cleaned up, your father called you.

"Hey, dad, what can I do for you?" You respond, your brain still focussed on the transmissions you were decoding.

"I wouldn't call if it wasn't necessary-"

"I know, Dad. What do you need?"

"I got one of your guys," your ears pricked up, "and his ship is damaged. I need to know how to fix it. Think you can help?"

"Yeah, of course. I don't remember sending anyone your way though, think you can tell me who it is?"

Your dad grunts as he climbs up the ladder, radio tucked under his chin, "yeah, it's the pretty boy from a few days ago. The captain. Can't remember his name."

"It's Dameron. Who're you talking to?" Poe comes out wiping his hands on a towel. Despite this man being your father, years in the resistance had warned him against trusting strangers.

"My daughter. She's telling me how to fix your ship."

"4? I wouldn't trust her anywhere near my ship."

"I heard that you know," you laughed. You brought up the specs for the X-wing, "I'll send you a copy of the spec - that's probably more useful than anything I have to say."

Your dad laughed and you sent him the specs.

"Good luck, boys," you ended the transmission.

The rest of the day was spent fixing the ship. Poe and your dad made good small talk - they were both pilots. They had a lot in common. They also both loved you. They had that in common too.

"Go clean up, Poe. I'll make us dinner." Your father said, standing up and heading toward the kitchen. Poe smiled. He liked this life.

Poe was back on base by nightfall the next day. You waited for him as he got checked up on in med, and then you walked with him to his room. The silence was deafening.

You followed him into his room, watched his every movement. He milled about, putting on clean clothes, washing his hands, and combing through his hair. His whole body was still tensed up from the mission - you wanted to stop him, hug him, do something. But you couldn't. He didn't want you near him. He was angry at you, and rightfully so.

"Your dad's nice." You looked up at him. Poe still had his back turned, but his shoulder had relaxed. You wanted to run your fingers down his back. "Peculiar, but nice."

You smiled softly, "He's lonely. Not that fun living on an abandoned base in the middle of nowhere."

Poe sat down on his chair, and you walked towards him. You placed your hands on his shoulder, gently soothing the knots out of his muscles. He leaned his head back, a low moan of satisfaction left his throat. The sound went straight through your body, eliciting shivers.

"Talk to me. Tell me what went wrong," you whispered in his ear, not wanting to break the calmness that swept through the room.

Poe shook his head, bringing you in front of him. He leaned his head against your stomach, hands coming to rest at your hips. You tangled your fingers in his hair, and he grunted in appreciation. You shivered again.

He chuckled, "you like that?" Your face blushed a bright red. Poe laughed again, before leaning to kiss your stomach. He kissed up through the valley in between your breasts, and up your neck. He stayed there for a minute, nipping and suckling at your neck, before making his way to your face.

He was fully standing now, his hands moved to your face, and he gently dotted kisses everywhere. Your cheeks. Your eyes, which had fallen shut at his ministrations. Your forehead, then your chin. He kissed the sides of your lips, and you let out a soft moan, begging for more.

"Greedy, are we?" He asked, his voice much lower than before. You opened your eyes to see a smug grin painted on his face. You didn't care.

You grabbed his face and brought his lips to yours. It seems he got the memo because as soon as his lips touched yours, he took over. His tongue slipped into your mouth and stroked yours gently.

He tapped your thigh gently, a signal to jump, and he carried you over to his bed, depositing you on the edge gently, dislodging his lips from yours. He knelt down in front of the bed, pulling your closer to him by your legs.

"Tell me to stop." He looked up at you, his pupils blown wide, as he took your dishevelled appearance in. Like a predator looks at his prey.

"Please don't."

He pulled your boots and cargo pants off, kissing up your legs. The arousal pooled between your legs, and you moan.

"So fucking wet, and I haven't even touched you yet." You whine pathetically, trying to pull Poe closer to where you want him. He just laughs.

"Bet the other guy couldn't do this to you. That's why you need me, ain't that right?" You whine again, "Need me to take care of you, baby girl, ain't that right?"

"Please, Poe."

"Please what, baby girl? What do you need?" Poe whispers, cheekiness glinting in his eyes.

"Please, fuck me, Poe." He smiled.

"As you wish."

He pulled your underwear down your legs and stared enamoured between your trembling things, "Such a pretty fucking pussy."

You threw your head back as he dove face-first into your folds. He kissed your mound lightly, before rubbing soothing circles around your clit. You buck up, the pleasure unlike any you've ever known, and Poe presses a hand onto your abdomen, locking you in place.

"Don't deprive me of my meal, honey," He whispers into your pussy.

He continues his assault, testing the waters of what you did and didn't like. You liked when he went fast, when he went slow, you got impatient. Maybe it was time to teach you some patience. But the low whines and moans were too much for Poe to bear. Soon your thighs were clamped around his head as you let out a loud moan, and you came undone under his touch. He lapped up every last bit of your release as if he'd been left in the deserts of Jakku without any water for years. And the moans. Oh Maker, his moans. You thought it impossible for a man to enjoy himself that much. But from the way he gripped your thighs, and pulled his body in further, you could tell he never wanted to pull away.

You laid limp on the bed as Poe stood up, and peeled his clothes off his body. You stared shamelessly. It wasn't the first time you'd seen Poe shirtless, but you'd barred yourself from staring then. Now it was allowed.

He smiled at your shameless ogling, and grabbed your hand, pulling you to stand up, pressed against him. You could feel his still-clothed cock, pushing into your abdomen, and you could feel it throbbing at the contact. You sunk down onto your knees, hands fiddling with his zipper.

He pulled you away and shook his head. "Not now."

He pushes you back onto the bed and crawls over you, his lips reconnecting to yours. He had unzipped his pants and kicked off his boots, leaving a pile on the floor.

"Tell me if it hurts." Poe kisses under your jaw before pushing inside.

Holy Maker, he's big.

His cock stretches you out deliciously. He pushes into you until he's settled within you and waits for you to adjust. The initial pain fades into pleasure and soon you're begging for him to move.

"You sound so pretty when you beg, baby. Bet you wouldn't beg for anyone else." Nevertheless, he moves.

He starts slow, getting used to feeling you around him. You want more.

"Please, Poe. Faster. Please, please, please." You beg him, screams ripping through your throat.

He picks up the pace, relentless now. Fast and hard. The room filled with the sounds of skin slapping skin, mixed together with both your moans. You feel the pressure building up and your moans get louder. Poe chased his own release as you got closer and closer to the edge.

"Poe, I'm gonna... gonna come. Please, Poe..." Poe slowed down a fraction, pulling you further from the edge. You whined pathetically.

"Tell me you're mine. Only mine." You smiled through your lust-induced haze.

"Only yours, Poe. Always yours." He picked up the pace again, and the coil begins to tighten. Poe's moans push you over the edge, and you cum hard. So hard that your whole body feels electrified, your toes curling in pleasure. Poe fucks you through your high, turning your entire body to jelly. He pulls out and shoots his ropes over your body.

You smile. You lift a finger up to your chest and lick Poe's cum off your chest, moaning at the taste. The filth of the act clearly affected Poe, as his eyes closed in pleasure. He moaned lowly, grabbing your hands and pressing kisses to them. You closed your eyes, falling back onto the bed.

Poe disappeared into the refresher, grabbing a clean towel and dampening it, before returning to clean you up. You looked confused. No one had ever done that for you before. He wiped your chest and between your thighs, before carrying you to the bathroom. You washed your face and brushed your teeth with one of the spare toothbrushes in Poe's refresher, before heading back out.

Poe was gone.

You were confused, given that he had changed his sheets and left you a spare t-shirt and pair of boxers to change into. You sat down on the edge of his bed, stretching your legs, a pleasant ache settling between them. Where the hell could he have gone?

A few seconds late, someone knocked, "Are you decent?" Poe.

"Yeah, come in." You stood up, shuffling your feet. Poe walked in, shirt almost completely undone, carrying 2 bottles of water from the cantina. Your heart almost burst.

He opened one of the bottles handing it to you, before leading you back to bed. You took a few sips, the coldness soothing your throat that was raw from screaming.

He laid back on his bed and beckoned your closer to him. You curled into his arms and reached up to fiddle with his hair. You both sat in silent reverie - taking in each other's company.

"Will I see you again?" Poe broke the silence timidly, running a knuckle over your cheek.

"You see me every day, Poe," You tease him gently, "You see me in the corridors, and in the cantina, and sometimes even after you get back from a mission." Poe slapped your ass, causing you to burst into laughter. He pulls you closer to his body.

"I mean it. Is this just a one-time thing? Given your - um - crush on the other guy?" You stay silent, "Is he a pilot? Is that why you're not telling me?" You nod your head, trying to hide your smile. You felt bad for not telling him, but it was funny.

"He's a pilot. But that's not why I'm not telling you." Poe frowns, creases appearing between his eyebrows.

"Is he a superior officer? Does he live on base?"

You decide to keep teasing him, "Yeah, he's a Captain." You look into Poe's eyes. "He's definitely my favourite person on base." Poe's frown turns into a scowl.

"He has the most beautiful brown eyes and the most amazing hair that I always want to run my fingers through," You tangle your hair in his, pulling it just the way he likes. "He's cocky, and he's so sexy. And he knows that he's sexy too." Poe tries pushing you away, rolling from his side to his back, but you just cling to him tighter. You place a kiss on his jaw and then on his ear.

"Why are you here, then? In my bed? In my clothes?" He says, jealousy and annoyance evident in his voice. You feel bad.

"You wanna know his name?"

"Not really. Then I'd know who I wanna punch, but I still wouldn't be able to do it."

"I don't really think it's possible to punch yourself." Poe turns to face you, the jealousy in his eyes fading into hope.

"What?" You just smile. "You love me?"

"I didn't lie, Poe. I'm yours. Always yours." He kisses you, hard, not giving you any space to breathe.

"You're not just saying that," He breathes, pulling away just enough to speak. You reconnect your lips to his, and he pulls you on top of him, your thighs around his torso. You look deep into his eyes, his pupils so dilated as if he couldn't get enough of you.

"It's always been you."

[truenorthrestoration1]

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[laughhardrunfastbekindsblog]

Lost and Found

Summer of Bad Batch 2024 | Week 2 | Prompt: Comfort Zone

Summary: Tech had only lived on Pabu for a short while; but as soon as he saw it again, with the knowledge that his family was somewhere down there, waiting for him, he knew: he was home. POV: Tech, Crosshair, Phee (Word Count: 5397)

Read on Ao3

Tech sat back in the passenger seat, datapad resting on his lap, his eyes burning slightly from fatigue after having spent the past few hours of the trip researching the habits of a specialized breed of hounds called lurcas. He had wanted to pilot the ship himself; but Omega had been so excited to show him firsthand how much she had progressed with the skills he had taught her, and he just hadn’t been able to say no. Besides, his piloting skills, while still more than adequate to handle flying especially during a non-combat trip like this, were mildly hampered by the nerve damage he had sustained to his left arm – he could still use the appendage, thankfully, but it remained significantly weaker than his right arm and fatigued rather quickly.

He remembered the flying lessons with Omega so well now - those were among the clearest of his memories, memories it had taken him well over a decade to recover.

There were still some small pieces of his life he couldn’t remember. How he had survived the fall from the railway was one of those pieces: apparently he had been delirious, or so he had been told, when the small band of native Eriaduans – intelligent beings, though so primitive and so reclusive with their dwelling places hidden deep in the forests that the other intelligent species on the planet paid them no mind – had found him; and he had sunk into a coma for months, before waking to realize he had no idea who he was, though thankfully he still knew how to speak, understand, and read Basic.

It hadn’t helped matters that he could barely see anything… until a few days after waking, when he had discovered that looking through a piece of curved glass brought his vision into sharper focus; and with this observation staying forefront on his mind, as soon as he was able to start hobbling around on his own, he had proceeded to gather materials and construct himself a pair of spectacles without really consciously thinking about how to do it, almost as if… as if he had done such a task several times before.

This had seemed so familiar, and he had learned very quickly to lean into familiarity as far as he could in his efforts to rediscover himself. It had been this feeling of familiarity that had drawn him, like a moth to a flame, to the recently downed shuttle near the natives’ village. It had been this feeling of familiarity that had guided his hands and his thoughts as he had successfully repaired the shuttle. It had been this feeling of familiarity that had led him to decrypting and reviewing the mission reports and data logs in the shuttle’s databanks; and he had found he recognized the basic facts of the Clone War and the aftermath, he knew the Empire went against everything he stood for, he remembered flashes of battles and he knew he must have been involved in the war somehow, though he didn’t look much like the clones who had formed the GAR. But, while most of his procedural memory had remained intact, and his semantic memory had returned at a rather astonishing rate as he researched what he could from the databanks, the brief flashes of episodic memories that he did have, much of the knowledge he remembered… there had been no context for it. He hadn’t known how he fit into it, or who or what had been important to him. And it seemed that the more he tried to consciously hold on to the personal memories in order to analyze them, the more quickly they slipped away altogether; faces and names in particular remained frustratingly out of reach. So he had soon learned to let these images, these episodic memories flicker across his mind without trying to think about them.

Still, he had kept leaning into the familiar as much as he could for countless months, and as the forests of Eriadu had become increasingly known to him, he had resigned himself to living out the rest of his life there… until Imperial soldiers had begun searching the forests for rebel cells, and he had intuitively known he should not be discovered. The native Eriaduans had refused to leave the planet with him, and he had let it go, knowing chances were high that the Imperials would leave the natives alone so long as he wasn’t with them. And so he had followed the feeling of familiarity that prompted him to pilot the shuttle, leaving Eriadu behind and entering the somehow reassuring white void of hyperspace.

The next decade had been a blur as he found and settled on the remote planet Tintha. He had been drawn to one of the tiny towns there, where he eked out a living doing what he had recognized best: engineering, mechanics, tinkering, decrypting, exploring, researching. What’s more, he had realized these things weren’t just familiar – he enjoyed all of it.

But he still hadn’t known who he was.

His skills, already appreciable on their own but even more noticeable given how secluded the planet was, had drawn the attention of a few influential people first on Tintha, then the wider system of Torus, until one day a man with cybernetic implants and the rather cryptic name of Echo – no surname – had visited him to ask for assistance decrypting information that turned out to be top-security Imperial intelligence. Then, after posing some rather probing questions about who he was and where he had come from - questions he couldn't very well answer - Echo had abruptly asked if he would agree to meet a young pilot named Omega to assist her with a rather more complicated task. He had agreed to meet the pilot, but hadn’t wanted to commit to joining the Rebellion – of course these strangers were rebels, he had figured that much out, though Echo had mentioned nothing by name – sympathetic though he might be to the cause. Besides, Echo and Omega kept acting so strangely around him, as if there was a lifetime of secrets they wanted to tell him but didn’t dare mention.

Well, most people seemed to act oddly around him. Or maybe he acted oddly around people. That awkwardness was all too familiar, and he had a feeling that things had always been this way, even before losing his memories.

Still, both Echo and Omega, these strangers he had only recently met, felt so familiar to him; and, following his usual method of leaning into familiarity, he had trusted them enough to let them take some scans and a blood sample – “Maybe we can help you find out who you are, in exchange for your help,” they had said. And he had allowed it; of course he had run his own blood sample before, but these rebels likely had access to more databanks than he did on this remote planet.

And then Omega had asked for his help recovering recorded data from an extremely familiar pair of broken goggles. And the first item he had found was the old back up copy of the picture of Clone Force 99, taken shortly after Echo had joined the squad.

And he had started to remember.

“Omega?” he had said tentatively, gently, turning his gaze to the tall, confident, energetic, brilliant woman next to him, so similar yet so different from the adolescent sister he had so quickly grown to love all those years ago.

Omega had instantly known that he remembered her – really remembered her, and her eyes had filled with tears. “Yes, Tech, it’s me,” she had whispered.

Tech.

Yes, that was his name – finally, he could remember his name. The Eriaduans had called him a term in their native tongue – Esha’Nu, Lost One – for so long, and he had gone by the name of Nu for years here on Tintha. But upon hearing his real name, it had been as if all – well, almost all – the discrete and nonsensical and decontextualized flashes of memory started clicking back into place.

His follow up question, however, had had nothing to do with the return of his memories.

“You recovered all this recorded data years ago, didn’t you?” he had asked Omega shrewdly.

Omega had laughed. “Yes,” she had said, nodding – and then her jaw had started to tremble as tears began streaming down her face. “It… it was all we had left of you. I had to find a way to restore it all, and I did. But,” and she had sat up straight, clearing her throat in an effort to stop the tears, “I was hoping that maybe the goggles or the pictures would help jog your memory, more than just being told you were a clone.”  

All those years – his family had believed him to be dead.

If only he could have remembered who he was sooner. But there was no way to change that now. He had lost so many years with his loved ones - which meant there was no time to spend wallowing in regret over the lost years, over circumstances he had had no control over anyway. And a lot of the old memories were still frustratingly distant, vague, unclear - he had to address this issue before turning to the task of catching up on all the developments he had missed with his family. 

“I would prefer to keep these to review the information when you go back to your mission for the Rebellion, Omega,” he had said matter-of-factly, indicating the goggles.

And Omega had smiled. “Tech, you are my mission now.”

Reviewing the recordings with Omega and Echo had done wonders in further clarifying Tech’s memories. He had lived for years trying to rediscover himself and had even been partially successful, though, despite Echo’s and Omega’s reassurances, he now knew his mind wasn’t nearly as exceptional as it had been before – still genius-level intellect, perhaps, but he recognized he couldn't retain quite as much information as he had before the fall and his mental processing speed was slower. But all of that hardly mattered. What mattered was that, now, he could remember at least 85% of the life he had forgotten; he could recall nearly everything, including that fateful choice on Eriadu, his final glimpse of his family before everything had faded to blackness.

Or what he had thought would be his final glimpse.

Tech, his eyes closed against the glare of the ship’s interior lighting, now smiled. He was with Omega and Echo now; he would be reuniting with his other brothers soon; there were certain friends he hoped to meet again eventually.

He was about to see his whole family again.

“We’re coming out of hyperspace now, Tech,” Echo called over his shoulder from the co-pilot’s seat next to Omega.

Still smiling, Tech opened his eyes and walked to the front of the flight deck, staring into the white blur of hyperspace for several seconds until…

There was Pabu.

He had only lived on the planet for a short while; but as soon as he saw it again, with the knowledge that the rest of his family was somewhere down there, waiting for him, he knew: he was home.

**********

Crosshair, standing outside the Archium with Wrecker and Hunter, saw the ship approaching and suddenly felt like he would throw up.

Ridiculous, he scolded himself. He had been impatiently anticipating this reunion for weeks, ever since Echo and Omega had told them the unbelievable news that they had found Tech, alive – a blood sample and a clone identifying code scan had definitively confirmed it. And, even more miraculously, they had been able to help Tech remember his true identity.

Crosshair had searched for happiness and peace for so long, and had finally found it in abundance with his family after their victory on Tantiss.

It had taken months, but he had eventually come to terms with the fact that Tech was gone.

It had taken even longer, but he had eventually let go of the guilt and regret he had felt over Tech’s sacrifice to save the entire family – including him, Crosshair – on Eriadu.

He hadn’t thought it possible to ever feel more happiness, until he and Hunter and Wrecker had received Omega’s transmission, her words only barely intelligible given the sheer amount of glee in her voice, that Tech was alive.            

Crosshair had been in shock – all of them had been – until Wrecker had broken the stunned silence with an enthusiastic whoop so loud the ceiling of their cabin had actually shaken; and Crosshair hadn’t been able to stop smiling as a wave of almost giddy relief had washed over him while Hunter had eagerly inundated Omega with follow up questions. The next few weeks had been a whirlwind of preparation and discussion – they had to make up an extra bed; what kind of food did Tech like to eat now?; would it be a good idea for Tech to meet Batcher right away or should the hound stay in the back room?; would the reunion be too overwhelming?; they should ask Shep and the other Pabu residents to allow the reunion to be private; would it be too calm?; what was he like after so long, and would it be too much to take in given how much they had changed? But in spite of the busyness, Crosshair couldn’t help but feel that the days were passing by far too slowly: he wanted to see his brother now.           

Well, “now” had finally come; and, standing here as Omega’s ship came in to land, Crosshair thought of the last time he had seen Tech, and his heart sank. Their parting on Kamino had been rather less than amicable on his, Crosshair’s, part, even as his brothers had invited him to rejoin them. Crosshair had just stood there sullenly on the platform, refusing to even look at his brothers as Tech had turned first to prepare the Marauder for departure while the others had followed one by one. Even knowing then that his commitment to the Empire meant it was highly unlikely he and his brothers would willingly cross paths, Crosshair had never really thought that critical moment could be the last time he would see Tech.

For years since the devastating event on Eriadu, the idea of the family ever truly being whole again had been an impossibility, even as they all did their best to honor Tech's sacrifice. Now that the impossible was suddenly imminent, Crosshair wanted so desperately to see Tech again, but he had to wonder: did Tech really want to see him? After all, if he, Crosshair, had just gone with his family after they had saved his life on Kamino, Tech would never have needed to sacrifice himself on Eriadu, and would never have been lost and alone for well over a decade.

After all Tech had been through, did he want to have Crosshair back as a brother?

The ship’s ramp lowered, and Crosshair suddenly found he couldn’t move as he saw Tech slowly descend. Omega had told them that the primitives who had helped Tech on Eriadu hadn’t exactly had the best medical equipment, and Crosshair could clearly see this to be true given the multiple prominent scars crossing Tech’s face, the pronounced limp that bore evidence of once-shattered bones in his right leg and pelvis that hadn’t quite been set properly, and the slight yet still noticeable weakness of his left arm that hung rather limply by his side. What’s more, Tech now wore thin-rimmed spectacles, his hair was slightly longer and liberally streaked with gray, and the wrinkles developing around his eyes and mouth were readily apparent despite the scars.

Wrecker, tears already pouring down his face, bounded forward to pull his brother into a bone-crushing hug, and didn’t release him until Tech managed to wheeze “Wrecker” in a voice indicating impending risk of suffocation. Hiccupping slightly, Wrecker set Tech back down on the ground and stepped back to allow Hunter, a warm if somewhat shaky smile gracing his face, to grasp Tech’s forearm and clap him on the back in Hunter’s signature greeting.

Crosshair hung back, rooted to the spot, hopeful and happy and scared and apprehensive all at once.  Tech’s voice was the same, he had the same welcoming closed-lipped smile, he appeared as calm and quietly happy as he had ever been when near the squad – his family.

But Crosshair hadn’t been part of the family when Tech had fallen. Tech had spent months thinking Crosshair hated them all, yet had still wanted to rescue him, only to sacrifice himself and be left behind…

Tech abruptly looked over and met Crosshair’s eyes, and his smile widened as he relinquished Hunter’s arm and limped toward his youngest brother.

It was now or never: Crosshair had to say something.            

“Tech,” he croaked.

“Crosshair,” Tech returned casually. “Omega told me you had returned.” And he placed a reassuring hand on Crosshair’s shoulder in greeting.

Crosshair wasn’t really the hugging type, and he certainly wasn’t one to initiate a hug. Neither was Hunter. Or Echo, for that matter. Wrecker and Omega were the only ones who gave hugs freely and without hesitation. And Crosshair knew Tech had always been the most touch-averse of all of them; though, according to Omega, Tech had readily accepted and returned her hugs as she had been growing up.

All of this passed through Crosshair’s mind as he stared in near-shock at his long-lost brother, the one he had thought he would never see again, the one he had wanted so desperately to reconcile with…

Crosshair couldn’t help it: before he even realized what he was doing, he had wrapped his arms around Tech’s shoulders and was hugging him with all the strength he possessed.

What was worse: he was crying. He, Crosshair, the one who prided himself on being more emotionally stoic than even Echo, the one who had made it through Tantiss and beyond without letting one stray tear leave his eyes (that one time on the Tantiss bridge didn’t count, that was rain, not tears), was now sobbing so hard onto Tech’s shoulder he was positive that, any moment, his brother would awkwardly pull away to avoid being drenched.

Instead, Tech gingerly placed his hands on Crosshair’s back, and lightly returned the embrace.

“I’m happy to see you too,” Tech said quietly.

All of Crosshair’s anxiety, doubt, and fears were erased, washed away by sheer relief, gratitude, and joy.

No matter what had happened before, they were still family, they were still brothers.

Tech was home.

**********

Phee approached the door of the cozy, well-lit cabin tucked against the mountainside, striding confidently and resolutely up the path; yet she paused ever so briefly to take a deep, calming breath before opening the door and stepping inside.

Hunter had contacted her a few weeks ago to inform her that Echo and Omega had found Tech, alive and relatively well, but having spent the past near decade and a half since Eriadu as an amnesiac. He had now recovered his memories, he knew who he was and who his family was, and he was coming home.

“He asked about you, Phee. He wants to see you.”

Phee had agreed to return, but had told Hunter it would be some time before she had wrapped things up enough to come back to Pabu. In truth, she ended up taking far more time than she needed to conclude her business and make the trip to the island planet. She had never been through the ordeal of losing one’s own memories and identity, living lost and alone for years before rather abruptly rediscovering them; but she could well imagine that such an experience would be overwhelming at minimum, and intuited that it would likely be best for Tech to have time to reconnect with his family first.

Besides, she needed some time to figure out how she felt about all this.

She had always liked Tech. Even in the very beginning, when his awkward and seemingly know-it-all behavior had initially turned her off, she couldn’t deny she had felt an instant and persistent attraction to him; and as time had passed and she had come to know him better, the attraction grew, and what had at first been rather annoying traits and quirks of his became endearing. After she had introduced his family to Pabu, she and Tech had spent more time together and had certainly grown close, close enough that her liking of Tech had turned into – well, she wouldn’t have called it “love” at that point, but definitely a hope that their solid friendship could soon become much, much more, could perhaps become love.

And then Tech had died, and Phee had been devastated, but she had hidden her feelings as best she could – after all, she had just been a friend, she wouldn’t lose her cool and make Tech’s bereaved family feel obligated to comfort her. And besides, she still liked the band of misfit clones that were Tech's siblings. And so she had continued to do what she did best – liberating ancient wonders – while also dabbling in much riskier intelligence acquisition and prison breaks in order to help Tech’s family save their imperiled brother and sister. And then she had subsequently maintained her friendship with the family, visiting Pabu frequently for their sakes as much as for Shep and Lyana, all the while knowing deep down that she was doing all of this as much for Tech’s memory as she was for the sake of her own friendship with his siblings…

Okay, fine, she had loved Tech, loved him as far more than a good friend. And knowing now that he was alive, with an airtight reason for having not shown up before now, and was asking to see her – well, all those feelings were reawakening at a frighteningly quick pace.

Thing is – she had fallen in love with the Tech of over ten years ago, before he had spent years not knowing who he was and therefore quite possibly discovering new things about himself in the interim. Would she, could she still love him as he was now?

“Omega says he was a little different when she and Echo first found him; but now that he’s recovered his memories, he’s become much more like his old self,” Hunter had said. “Still some differences – he’s definitely quieter, doesn’t interrupt nearly as much, not much of a risk-taker, insists he’s not as brilliant as he used to be…”

“So he only rates four times higher than genius intelligence level, instead of five?” Phee had quipped.

“More like only nine times higher instead of ten, by Echo’s estimation, but you get the point,” Hunter had replied levelly. “And… well, you know clones were engineered with accelerated aging…”

“Old people don’t scare me,” Phee had scoffed lightly. “I still talk to you, don’t I?”

And Hunter, rolling his eyes in exasperation, had chuckled in reply.

She wanted to stay in love with Tech, and nothing Hunter had said to describe Tech’s current state had indicated he had drastically changed. But there was also the fact that Phee still didn’t know for sure how Tech had felt about her – she had become well accustomed to Tech sometimes being oblivious to social cues and “normal” social interactions, but he had been almost uncharacteristically standoffish during their last parting, and while she had brushed it off at the time as Tech being Tech and resolved to have a definitive discussion with him as soon as he returned… well, he had never returned.

If he hadn’t returned her feelings then, what were the chances he would now?

But hey, Phee thought practically here in the present, as she stepped over the threshold into the cabin, it’s not like I’ll be any worse off in the romance department than I am now. Holding out a hand to prevent Batcher from knocking her over as she closed the door behind her, she glanced around, nodding at Omega, Hunter, Wrecker, Crosshair, and Echo, who were all seated in their customary places around the central open-floor room, before her eyes fell on the sixth figure just a few feet away from Echo...

There he was, seated at the small table that bordered one side of the room. She recognized him instantly: still bespectacled, still with piercingly intelligent yet warm brown eyes, still on the lanky side, still with his hair slicked back off his forehead making his hairline more pronounced; though now with a scarred face, graying hair, even more of a tendency toward hunched shoulders, and more wrinkles around his eyes and mouth.

In other words, he was even more handsome than ever.

And he was looking right at her, calmly regarding her with his typical thoughtful expression.

Phee, being herself as always – no point in pretending to be anyone else, after all – fixed him with a sarcastic stare.

“Well, look who’s finally decided to show up.”

“Better late than dead, I believe is your phrasing,” Tech replied steadily. “Or it used to be.”

Oh stars, his voice - his confident, soothing, practical voice - was the same…

And yet, steady though his voice may be, there was a hint of hesitation in his eyes, and Phee suddenly realized: he was just as uncertain about how much she had changed, as she was about him.

Well, she’d just have to show him who she was.

“That phrase still holds true,” she conceded airily, sitting in the chair across the table from him and leaning back, crossing her arms. “Good to see you all,” she addressed the rest of the family.

The others greeted her in return; and, determined to make this visit as natural as possible, Phee forged ahead to engage them in light conversation, not leaving Tech out but not focusing specifically on him either. Hunter, as could be expected, seemed to pick up on her intention first; and with their combined efforts, Wrecker soon stopped glancing meaningfully between Tech and their guest and instead joined in the discussion, with Echo, Omega, and even Crosshair then following his lead.

Apart from interjecting a few minor corrections to some details Hunter and Wrecker elaborated on regarding events on Pabu over the past few days, Tech seemed content to just soak it all in, quietly watching the scene while idly stroking Batcher who had serenely parked herself squarely next to his chair.

Then again, Tech had always been most at his ease around his siblings. It had taken weeks on Pabu before Tech had started to seem more relaxed around Phee, even as he had given every indication that he wanted to be around her; and it had also taken her some time to come to terms with what she had initially mistaken to be mixed signals.

Phee was glad that Tech had so quickly readjusted to life with his family. And maybe – just maybe – this could mean he may soon be comfortable around her again.  

It was nearly half an hour before the brothers and Phee had caught each other up on recent happenings – well, all recent happenings apart from the most significant development, which was currently sitting right across the table – and Phee turned to Omega, who was still laughing over Wrecker’s retelling of the latest fishing expedition gone wrong.

“Omega,” Phee said, “I want to hear all about your rebellious exploits before you disappear again.”

“Some of those exploits are supposed to be classified, Phee,” Omega replied solemnly.

“So?”

Echo glowered, but Omega broke into a grin. “We’ll catch up as far as I’m allowed,” she promised, before her eyes darted briefly to Tech and she added, “Later.”

Phee, knowing it was time, took the hint and turned to directly face Tech. Crosshair, of all people – bless that man, though of all Tech’s brothers Phee would never have thought that Crosshair could be so insightful in situations like this – rather forcefully drew his siblings’ attention away from the table’s occupants by complaining loudly about the current toothpick shortage on Pabu. Tech, still engaged in his siblings’ discussion, opened his mouth – probably to explain precisely why certain supplies were low on the remote island while the galaxy at large was at war – but promptly turned his attention to Phee when she spoke.

“I see Batcher has taken a liking to you,” she said casually.

Tech smiled a bit as he glanced down at the aging hound. “I have always been fascinated by creatures of all kinds, but I never saw the purpose of maintaining one as a companion,” he said conversationally. “This has been especially true the past few years – there was no reason to permanently take on the care of an animal when I didn’t really know who I was. Even now I can’t say lurca hounds are of a temperament that would make them my first choice of pet. But this one in particular is exceptional. Omega did well domesticating her.”

The more Tech talked, the more Phee's spirits rose; but she kept her demeanor relaxed and straightforward. “Yeah, Batcher is fine, but Mel is the closest thing to a pet I’ve ever wanted to have. Apart from her, I’ve pretty much always travelled alone.”

Tech glanced at her with an openly interested expression.

“You haven’t taken up traveling on a permanent basis with any other pirates or smugglers since we last spoke, then?” he asked.

Cheeky. Phee raised a brow at him, immediately recognizing the reference to their last conversation – the one she had replayed countless times in her head in the intervening years – but now wanting to hide the fact that she was simultaneously impressed, shocked, and strangely elated.

If he not only remembered their last conversation but was now willing to reference it, could that possibly mean he had loved her too?

But she had to stay cool. “I believe I was the one who told you not to run off with pirates or smugglers while you were gone,” she retorted.

“Yes, well, there were surprisingly few members of either category in the vast forests of Eriadu, or on a world as remote as Tintha,” he returned a trifle stiffly, in the manner Phee recognized as the one he used when he knew he hadn't picked up on all the subtext of a statement but still felt obliged to respond. “I couldn’t have run off with one even if I had wanted to.”

Phee smirked. Tech might be able to recite all the definitions and detailed components of flirting like the walking dictionary/encyclopedia combined that he was, but he would never be able to effectively put flirting into practice. And she loved him for it.

Oh, yes, she still loved this man. She couldn’t wait to get to know him again.

And it was her turn to answer the question.

“Well, you know, there was one man I would have considered traveling with on a permanent basis,” she said, deliberately borrowing Tech’s own words. “Not a pirate or a smuggler, but a handsome fella, strong, brave, wicked smart. He disappeared, though, and for a long time I thought he’d never come back.”

Tech surprised her by looking almost… disappointed? “Oh, I… didn’t know that,” he said, as if at a loss for words. “I… I hope he returns someday.”

Oh, poor Tech – okay, now was obviously not the right time for teasing or subtlety.

“In case I wasn’t clear,” she said slowly and distinctly as she leaned forward, rested her arms on the table, and caught and held Tech’s gaze, “the man I was talking about is you.”

Surprise, relief, uncertainty, and hope all passed over Tech’s face in equal measure before his expression settled on unreadable, and he was silent.

And Phee was suddenly acutely aware that, despite the low voices in the background indicating Tech’s siblings were ostensibly still talking amongst themselves, all ears were open and straining to keep track of this particular conversation.

Shaking her head slightly as she chuckled, Phee pushed her chair back from the table. “Let’s go for a walk, Brown Eyes.”

Tech readily agreed, his expression brightening as a small hopeful smile dawned on his face; and when she took his hand as they exited the cabin, he didn’t shy away.

@summer-of-bad-batch

[timelesswoodcare]

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[deanwritings]

The Guest House - Chapter 1

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Series Summary: Dean Winchester is going through a nasty divorce. He doesn't have much left to his name, but what he does have is his house. Leave it to his soon-to-be ex wife to find a way to even ruin that for him. Enter Y/N, who is looking to get away from life for a bit, and stumbles right into the middle of it all.

The Guest House Master List

Word Count: 3,375

Your fingers drum along the steering wheel as you navigate the winding backroads, nothing but bare trees and a littering of snow to keep your mind occupied as you hum along to the radio station. 

You had exited the highway almost an hour ago, and the longer you drove, the less cars you passed and the more trees appeared. 

A part of you was worried you were making a mistake; what if this town ended up being too small? Or what if your rental was a total sham and you got scammed? You could always dispute the charge with the bank, but the embarrassment of being conned and having to admit that to your family would be the worst part. An “I told you so” would definitely be waiting for you from your mother. 

But your GPS showed another thirty-five minutes before your arrival, so you figured you might as well check it, hoping to be pleasantly surprised. 

This was definitely out of your comfort zone, but you deserved this. A month of no work or responsibilities. Just taking each day as it came and answering to no one but yourself.

This is going to be good for me. You keep reminding yourself.  

About twenty minutes later, a few buildings appear in between the trees; houses and some small, specialty shops like a hardware store and a car repair shop. As you drive further in, brick buildings, all connected to each other line your path. You slow down as you begin taking in the shops and restaurants, noticing an antique store and Irish pub first, as well as some art galleries and thrift stores. The town is certainly picturesque, with a charmingly old downtown, the stone sidewalks dotted with trees that are surely full and vibrant in the warmer months, but their bare branches still clinging to string lights from the holidays. 

You smile, this was exactly what you were hoping for. Maybe this was going to work out after all. 

True to the posting, your GPS announces your arrival about ten minutes later. The driveway is long and unpaved, and your eyes widen as the log cabin that sits proudly to your left comes into view behind the trees. Large, dark logs, perfectly sat on top of one another, leading up to a green, gable roof and thick stone chimney. A large porch adorns the front facade, and you see two empty rocking chairs swaying in the winter wind. 

Continue past the main house for another 15 seconds or so, and the guest house is located towards the back of the property. Lisa had messaged you instructions after your booking was confirmed. 

As you keep driving, more trees appear, the back of the property not as cleared out as the front. But through the lifeless trees you spot your home for the next month, exactly how it appeared in the posting; gray, wooden siding with two porches; one off the front and another off the bedroom. The same gabled roof graces this home, though shaded red. A small, tin chimney sits perfectly atop, completing the picture you saw online. 

Turns out, you didn’t get scammed at all. Maybe it was your Aunt Rose, or a guardian angel, but someone was clearly looking out for you and made sure you were getting exactly what you deserved. 

You park on the side of the house, per Lisa’s instructions, and gather up all your bags, not wanting to make more than one trip. You struggle with your suitcase against the gravel, but thankfully it doesn’t take you long before you arrive at the front, all-glass door, allowing you a sneak peek before you even step foot inside. 

Key is under the flower pot to the left of the door. And you smile when you find it exactly where it’s meant to be. 

You unlock the door and push it open, and despite the purse and backpack you're carrying, your shoulders immediately slump and you take in an easy, deep breath of relief. The house is immaculate; bright, pine plank floors, plaid, comfortable looking couches facing the tv and wood-burning stove. The living room continues into the kitchen, the whole floor plan wide and open. The cabinets match the floors, and the countertops are a forest green granite. The appliances are a bit outdated; the older, white stove and microwave combo that looks very similar to the one you had in college, but that doesn’t bother you. You can see straight back to the only bedroom, the open door and revealing a sliver of the bed for your next month. The house is adorned with floor to ceiling windows, making the atmosphere feel light, even in the dark, winter twilight.  

You drag your stuff back to the bedroom, heaving your extra large suitcase up the four steps that lead to the space.

The bedroom is simple; a queen bed with cream comforter, curtains that match the bedding, and two pine nightstands, each with a glass-bottomed lamp. 

You drop your suitcase onto the floor and carefully place your purse and backpack on the small ottoman in the corner of the room. 

As you turn in the space, you spy the hot tub on the back patio, string lights strung above, and you smile. 

After three and half hours in the car, you knew exactly how you were going to start your trip.

The clock on the radio dash illuminates 6:27 as Dean throws his car in park and cuts the engine, exhaustion radiating through his shoulders and down his back as he steps out, the gravel crunching beneath his work boots. He’s looking forward to reheating leftovers, pouring himself a beer, and hitting his bed early tonight. 

The shop had been overrun today, and with Benny out sick and Adam on vacation, Dean found himself without a single break since he started at 7:30 this morning. He usually tried to be home around 5, but by the time he finished the last car, cleaned up and closed up shop, it was well past 6. 

As he takes a few steps across the unpaved driveway towards the front steps of his house, he perks up, his ears catching a sound. He stops, narrowing his eyes as he realizes it’s music. He can’t quite make out the lyrics or the beat, but it’s definitely music. And as he focuses closer, he realizes it’s coming from the guest house. The empty guest house. 

With careful steps, Dean hurries to the garage, unlocking the side door instead of using his automatic opener which would make enough noise to alert whoever wasn’t supposed to be here. Dean makes quick work of opening the locker along the wall and typing in the code to his safe, revealing his pistol, the marble-handled one his father got him when he turned eighteen. He checks to make sure the magazine is loaded and clicks off the safety, not wanting to be caught off guard by whoever was where no one was supposed to be. 

With his weapon ready, Dean takes quiet steps towards the guest house, expertly avoiding the creaky first step as he walks up to the porch and peers in through the open windows. He doesn’t see any movement, but his brow furrows at the shoes resting to the side of the door. 

He reaches for the handle, and it twists open, the lock undone, but not broken, and steps inside. His eyes scan the front room, looking for anyone or anything out of place besides the shoes, and seeing everything in order, starts towards sliding back doors that lead to the patio, where the sound of the music grows louder. As he reaches the door, he peers out, his shoulders dropping as he notices the string lights illuminated and the hot tub cover pushed off, a head lounging against one of the built-in pillows.

God damn kids pool hopping again. He sighs and clicks the safety to his gun back on. This was the last thing he wanted to deal with after the day he had. 

This wasn’t the first time he’s found someone using his hot tub when they thought he was at work, but he figured he had put a stop to it after the McDowell twins and their girlfriends had snuck in and he called the cops on them for trespassing. Granted, he didn’t press charges, Dean wasn’t out to ruin the kids' lives, but the embarrassment of getting picked up naked and brought to the police station was enough to scare them and anyone else from trying it again. 

Or so he thought. 

The tension in his shoulders builds again as he pushes the door open, making his presence known with heavy steps before he shouts, “I thought you kids would know by now to stop–”

His words drop as a woman jumps up from the hot tub with a screech, her eyes wide as she takes quick steps away from him, or as far away as she can get in the hot tub. 

She’s definitely not a kid. From the looks of it, she’s probably in her late twenties, or maybe someone who looks good for her thirties. Her short and wet Y/C/H drips onto her shoulders, and Dean unintentionally follows the path of a water droplet as it races down her chest, through her bikini-coveraged cleavage and down to her navel, before getting soaked into her bottoms.

Yeah, definitely not a kid. 

“I’m calling the cops!” She shouts, her phone in hand, music blaring from the speaker as her fingers are ready to press the three numbers as she stares at him with fear in her Y/C/E eyes.

“Take it easy,” Dean holds his hands up, and the woman looks like she’s going to have a heart attack as she notices the gun in his right hand. Realizing his mistake, he quickly tucks it away into his waistband and holds his empty hands out to her, wanting her to know he’s not a threat.

“First off,” Dean holds up a finger at her. “If anyone should be calling the cops, it’s me.” He points back to himself. “Secondly, what are you doing in my house?” 

“Your house?” Her voice drips with confusion as her brow furrows.

“Yes my house.” He echoes, emphasizing his ownership. She continues to frown.  

“Well if it’s your house, you would know I’m renting your guest house for the next four weeks.” She crosses her arms defiantly, confusion and fear gone as she challenges him. 

“What are you talking about?” Now it’s Dean’s turn to be confused. He’s never rented the guest house out, nor would he ever. Especially not for a fucking month. 

Dean had no problem chatting with people at the shop or meeting friends for drinks downtown, but here at home, this was his private space, where he came to get away from it all. He rarely had anyone over as he just didn’t want to bother with people in his space. 

“I rented this house from you and your wife on AirBnB.” She states simply, having no idea the weight behind her words as realization crosses Dean.

“That bitch.” He mutters under his breath and runs a hand down his face. 

“Excuse me?” The woman seems to have heard him and he looks back to her. 

“No, not you.” He quickly clarifies with a sigh. “My soon-to-be ex wife. I’m gonna take a guess she’s behind this.” Her brows fold again. 

“Is her name Lisa Brandon?” She asks, and with a tight lipped, ghost of a smile, Dean nods, noting the use of her maiden name. He hadn’t heard her called that in years. 

“How’d you know that?”

“She’s listed as the homeowner. She sent me the instructions for how to get into the house.”

Dean lets his head fall back and groans. His day was getting worse and worse. 

Now he had to call his bitch of an ex and find out why there’s a woman planning to stay in his guest house for the next month. 

“Got it,” Dean straightens himself out though his shoulder slumps. Leave it to Lisa to bring some poor woman into the middle of their mess. 

“Seems we have a miscommunication. Sorry to ‘ave scared ya.” He holds his hand up in a half wave and forces a smile as he begins to turn back to step off the patio. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

Dean hurries down the small path around the side of the house, not wanting to cut back through the house now that he knew someone was staying there, even if it was his space.  

He vehemently shakes his head as he makes his way to the main house, his fists tight by his side as he prepares for his upcoming battle. 

This was actually the last thing he wanted to do after the day he had. 

Dean and Lisa have been separated for almost two years now, both unhappy for a long time before Lisa declared one day she had enough and had met someone else. 

As he stomps into the house, he kicks his boots off messily at the door and removes the pistol from his waistband and drops it next to the keybowl. Initially he was thinking a beer, but now, he wandered over to the bar and poured himself a finger of whiskey, quickly throwing it back and feeling the warmth spread as it travels down to his stomach. 

He runs a hand through his hair before taking a deep breath and pulling out his phone.

Her. Is what her contact is now. It wasn’t always. But that ship had long sailed. 

He closes his eyes and licks his lips as the line rings, four times, before she answers.  

“What do you want, Dean?” Her exasperated voice sighs through the other end of the line. He’s bothering her, but he’s only calling because she’s started it. 

“You’re renting out my guest house?” He barks. He knows her well enough to know she’s smirking. 

“Our guest house.” She corrects him and his hand balls into a fist. “Figured I’d make use of that house. No one’s used it in years.” He lets out a deep breath through his nose. 

Except you and your boyfriend. He wants to throw in, but he won’t get anywhere if he starts throwing low blows, even if they are well deserved. 

“You’ve got my attention, Lisa, now what do you want?” Dean cuts to the chase. He wants to keep this call as quick as possible.

“I want the property.” Dean scoffs. This was the one reason the divorce hadn’t been finalized yet. Both Dean and Lisa wanted to keep the house they bought together. She wanted it for a second income, and he wanted to keep it just to spite her because she wanted it. Was he proud of it? No. But after everything that happened, he wanted to keep her from getting the only thing she wanted in the divorce. Plus, she couldn’t marry her boy toy until their divorce was finalized, so Dean saw no reason to give in anytime soon. 

“Nice try. You know that’s off the table, and I’ll have my lawyer look into this little stunt of yours.” Dean figures he can either hit her with a cease and desist since she was the one who left and moved away or negotiate getting half of the income she’s going to earn off the rentals. Not that he wants anyone in his space, but if he figures he can take half the cut, Lisa may just stop bothering.  

“In case you’ve forgotten Dean, we’re still married.” No one needed to remind him that. “And my name is still on the property agreement. So that house is just as much mine as it is yours, and I have every right to rent it out. But feel free to get the lawyers involved. All you're doing is wasting my time and yours, not to mention your money.” Dean shakes his head and tightens his jaw. 

The goddamn lawyers. As much as he was enjoying prolonging the inevitable, it turned out, lawyers were pretty damn expensive to keep on retainer. He made good money at the shop, but it wasn’t two-years-worth of lawyer money, and Dean knew that he was close to ruining his finances just to satisfy his pettiness. But Dean was stubborn, and wasn’t ready to give in just yet. 

“Get her out or I will, Lis.” And with that, Dean ends the call. He picks up the bottle of whiskey, this time forgoing the glass as he takes a big swig. There was no way he was going to bed early tonight now.

Once your heart had finally settled and you were sure you weren’t going to pass out from the fear of the strikingly tall and broad-shouldered man who apparently was the co-owner of the home sneaking up on you as you relaxed in what was his hot tub, you whipped out your laptop and settled down on one of the bar stools that sat under the extended kitchen counter. You had opened the bottle of red wine you had brought up with you, not expecting to open it so soon, but after your hellish meet-and-greet with the actual owner, you needed it. 

You cross your legs underneath you as you pull up your AirBNB inbox, finding Lisa’s name and starting a message as you take a big sip of wine that you had poured into a coffee mug, the cabin not equipped with any barware. 

You sigh through your nose and purse your lips. The other shoe had to drop at some point. Between the amazing rental price, picturequest town, and beautiful guest house, everything had seemed too good to be true. Turns out, it was. 

Hi Lisa, it seems there is a miscommunication. I met your husband this evening and it sounds like he was unaware I’m renting the space. I’m not looking to get in the middle of anything so would you please be able to refund me and I’ll stay elsewhere? Your message flies off with a whoosh and you take another sip. 

Your life had been enough of a mess the last few months, you had no interest in getting involved in someone else’s drama. So you would have Lisa refund you for the stay, try to find a new spot to stay, and hopefully be on your way in the morning, even if it meant spending more than you initially were planning. 

You’re about to stand up and head to the tv but your inbox pings with a response from Lisa. 

Don’t worry about him. You rented the guest house and it’s yours for the four weeks. And per the booking site, I do not need to issue you a refund for any reason unless the house is uninhabitable, which it isn’t. So if you are going to leave, that’s up to you, but I will not be refunding your stay. But if you will be canceling, let me know.

You stare at the text flabbergasted. What a bitch. You don’t even know her and you were getting a glimpse into why this marriage didn’t work out. 

You really didn’t want to be a part of her mind games, you had had enough of that in your own life. Your vacation had barely started and it was already on the verge of being ruined. 

You hop onto the booking site and start looking for other options, with a check in starting tomorrow. As you scroll through, the few options available are wildly expensive, and seem to be a room share versus a private rental. And you couldn’t return to your apartment; you had told your landlord about your trip and agreed to let him sublease the space while you were gone, which initially you agreed to since it would cover your rent for the month, but now was just another series of bad decisions since you quit your job. 

Which really just left you with one option; suck it up, keep your head down, and try to make the most of your trip. 

Well this sucks.

Keep Reading

NEXT TIME:

“Look,” You snap and point a finger at him. “I’m not here to be the pawn in your divorce game. I came here to relax. Problem is, every other place I’ve looked at in the area is either sold out or way more expensive than here, and I can’t afford it. You wife-”

“Ex wife-” He interjects curtly. 

“Whatever,” you snarl at his interruption. “Rented this place for a good deal, and considering I don’t have a job right now, I can’t really afford to go somewhere else.” 

“If you don’t have a job, what the hell are you doing here then?” He challenges, crossing his arms and matching your stance.  

“That’s none of your business.” He tsks his tongue and throws his head back with an exasperated sigh. 

“Look,” You lower your voice, hoping a calmer tone will help ease the situation. “Unless you need this house for anything, I promise I’ll stay out of your way. I won’t bother you, and you’ll barely know I’m here. But I already paid Lisa and I don’t have any other options, so you’re stuck with me.”

The man takes a deep breath through his nose and purses his lips.  

“Fine.” He snaps. “Enjoy your freakin’ vacation.” He huffs before he storms away from the porch and back to the main house. You shake your head at his antics.

Like a toddler having a temper tantrum. 

Between Lisa’s bitchy attitude and his man-child behavior, it’s a wonder how those two ever actually liked each other enough to get married.

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[nicoline1998enilocin]

I have a Sebastian Stan x Girlfriend!Reader request. Ok so the reader admits to Sebastian that she always fantasizes about Bucky doing dirty things to her and Sebastian gives her what she’s been fantasizing about🥵

I came across your writing not too long ago and I just wanted to let you know how much I love it🩵

I think of him when I'm with you

PAIRING | Boyfriend!Sebastian Stan x Girlfriend!Female!Reader

WORD COUNT | ~ 950 words

SUMMARY | Sebastian accidentally finds out you're reading Bucky Barnes fanfiction, and even though he's not sure what to feel initially, he's slowly warming up to the idea. When you finally reveal your deepest fantasies, he invites you over to the set of his latest Marvel movie and makes every last dream come true. In character, of course.

WARNING(S) | This is your official trigger warning. Do not proceed if any of these topics upset you. Use of pet names (doll, prinţesă), smut (unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), cockwarming).

A/N | Thank you so much for this request, @sergeantbarnessdoll; this unlocked some fantasies I didn't even know I had, so thank you! Also, I want to thank you for the sweet compliment; small comments like that make my day! 🖤

A/N 2.0 | Thank you so much to @avengersfantasies for giving me with this idea; I couldn't have made it into what it is now without you!

Likes, comments and reblogs will be very much appreciated 💚

Divider is made by @firefly-graphics | 18+ banner is made by yours truly

Main Masterlist | Sebastian Stan Masterlist

''Babe, can I use your laptop for a bit?'' you ask as you walk into the bedroom where Sebastian is getting ready for his half-day shooting.

''Of course, prinţesă,'' he says, and you feel butterflies in your stomach at the name. You adore it when he talks Romanian, which makes your knees go weak instantly.

''Thank you!'' you say before heading to his office and grabbing his laptop, since yours is still at the Apple Store to be repaired. You can't live without Bucky fanfiction, so you're eager to continue reading the series you've been hooked on for a while.

You plop yourself down on the couch and log in to Tumblr, ready to continue where you left off a few days ago. This time, you finish the entire series, and you're about to delete the browser history when someone calls you, and you forget all about the laptop.

Later that day, you've returned to Sebastian's office since yours is repaired again, and you're picking it up right before Sebastian's about to come home, so you decide to grab take-out on your way home.

''Hi, prinţesă,'' Sebastian says as you walk into the door and put your stuff down, ready for a hug and a much-needed kiss, too.

''How was your day? Done anything... interesting?'' he asks with a hint of mischief, though you don't seem to notice it.

''It was good; I did some work and picked up my laptop,'' you say, and he quirks a brow, knowing you've been reading on Tumblr instead of working.

''Work, you say...'' Sebastian says before he opens up his laptop, and all color drains from your face as you see what he's referring to.

''S-Seb, i-it's not what you think!'' you try, but Sebastian gets a smirk that tells you everything you need to know; he's just as much into this as you are.

''I believe it's exactly what I think it is, prinţesă,'' he says as he pushes you against the counter behind you, caging you in as he leans in closer, ghosting his lips over yours.

''Meet me at my trailer tomorrow at 1:30 PM, and I'll give you exactly what you've been fantasizing about,'' he says, and a moan escapes your lips as he attaches his to your pulse point, making your legs feel like jelly under you.

It's the next day, and you're standing in front of Sebastian's trailer with some lunch like he asked and you knock a few times before the door swings open, and your breath hitches as you see him in full costume.

''Come in, doll,'' he says before stretching his hand out for you to grab and walk into the trailer. Your mouth is still open as you take it and look him over because he looks incredible.

''S-Seb-''

''Call me Bucky, doll. I don't know who this 'Seb' is,'' he says in air quotes, and that's when it dawns on you what he's doing. He's leaning into your fantasies, turning you on beyond belief.

He pulls you onto the couch, and you're straddling him, your soaked panties pushing against his hard cock, and you can tell he is as much into this as you are.

''You're beautiful, doll, and I can't wait to know what you taste like,'' he says before attaching his lips to yours, swallowing your moans as you grind against him.

His hands - one warm and one cold - pull up your dress until it's over your head and on the floor, and he can take in the black lingerie you're wearing, Sebastian's favorite.

A deep grunt escapes his throat as he sees the lace adorning your body, and before you know it, he lifts you and takes his cock out, sliding it deep into you with little to no prep.

''Oh, Bucky!'' you moan as you're leaning into your fantasies, only making you wetter.

''Who's making you feel so good, doll? Huh? Let everyone hear who's making his doll feel so fucking good she's going crosseyed,'' he whispers in your ear.

''B-Bucky! You're fucking me so good!'' you say as you keep bouncing up and down, his hands finding your nipples and playing with them through the lace of your bra.

''Such a perfect doll for me, my perfect fuckdoll,'' he grunts as he grabs your ass with both hands and sets the pace, fucking you hard, and you cum quickly after, followed shortly by Sebastian.

''Hmm, thank you for making me feel so good, Bucky. Can't wait to do this again,'' you say as you nuzzle into his neck when you're both coming down from your highs.

''No, thank you, doll, for making me feel special. And say hi to Seb for me,'' he says with a big smile as you keep sitting on his dick, you love to cockwarm him for as long as possible.

You've fallen asleep after Sebastian rubbed your back for a little while, and when his assistant walks in without knocking, he gets the sight of his life.

''Oh, fuck! I'm sorry! I didn't know,'' he starts, but Sebastian cuts him off.

''Don't worry, it's just Y/N, and she's taking a little nap. I'll be with you shortly,'' Sebastian says, and his assistant quickly runs out of the trailer, and when he slams the door shut, you jolt awake.

''Welcome back to earth, prinţesă,'' he says before capturing your lips in a soft kiss, and when he has to go again, he helps you get dressed and plants one more passionate kiss before he leaves.

''I can't fucking wait to do that again because this was amazing,'' he says, and with that, you're on your way home, still recovering a little from everything that just happened.