#i have to get wire hangers for the wings...

[afro-elf]

october 1st halloween costume concept reveal:

[daddycephalopod]

Stars Fading

Cody x Oc

Summary: A war erupts between the Jedi and Separatists, but you already know that story. This is the story of love blooming in a time of chaos, pain, and disorder. 
What will become of our heroes? Who will win? Who will survive?

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49394683/chapters/124650316

Due to trigger warnings related to PTSD, blood, war, and the inclusion of other mature themes as well, I will be posting all of my Clone War Auxiliary fics under the cut as I move them over. I’m moving this one over first because I really hope @starstofillmydream can read it easier this way 💚 she’s been very helpful in the characterization of our beloved Commander. Each fic has a song or lyric for the title, this one is a cover of Dream a Little Dream of Me by Kina Grannis.

Chapter 1: Sunshine

There was a reverent beauty in the setting sun and all that it touched, the skies bursting with pinks and oranges. The peachy color illuminated the part of the hanger where Kyra usually worked on broken or damaged fighter ships. She usually had her black hair pulled back, splotches of ink or oil on her face and the GAR issued mechanic suit.

Always disheveled, always covered in a dark liquid to some varying degree, and yet a certain Commander always found his heart beating a little more loudly as he watched her work. She had no idea he was there, talking to another one of the techs. She was looking up, focused on a wing that took damage. Her googles were on, hair in a messy bun today.

He recognized the other tech to actually be the weapons expert, Isla. She smiled slightly at him, now trying to discreetly get Kyra’s attention but failing.

“I’m just glad it was Kenobi instead of Skywalker. Anakin treats my ships like they’re bantha fodder, made for explosion only. I’ve asked Rory to have a chat with him, I don’t think she does or he doesn’t care when she does.” She said, scanning the wing with the data pad to fully assess damages.

Isla opened her mouth but shut it when Kyra kept going. Cody looked a little amused now.

“I’m tired of these Jedi thinking our resources are expendable, easy to come by. The senate pays the bill for it, sure, but what of it when they don’t or won’t anymore?”

“Do you have something against the Jedi? I might be able to launch a more formal complaint.” Cody said

Kyra almost hit her head, pulling away from the wing now.

“Hello commander.”

Kyra was just a hair shorter than him, able to basically look him in the eyes as she crossed her arms over her chest. She rested the googles around her neck now, beautiful brown eyes on him.

“I apologize if it sounds that way, about the Jedi. I’m fond of the generals, just frustrated. My people have a very intricate and annoying relationship with them too, it doesn’t help their case.” Kyra admitted with a sigh

“Where are you from?” Cody asked, genuinely curious.

“Mandalore.”

The answer was short and didn’t offer too much personal information but he had several follow up questions. Maybe this would be a good time to ask her to dinner, which is something he’s been wanting to do for a while. Before he could, Isla witnessed the darkening of his expression. It was like a storm passed through the man at seeing Kenobi approach and Kyra’s expression brighten.

“You’re officially my favorite general, you barely scratch up my work.” She said with a smile.

“I don’t particularly try to be mindful of that in the heat of battle but happy it works out that way. Is Cody bothering you?” He asked

“No, he could never. The man is like sunshine is plastoid.” Kyra said, not able to look at Cody as she said it.

Isla winked at Cody, “I’m gonna head back to work on some stuff and see Jesse. Are you going to 79s later?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you there.” Kyra said before beginning to work on the wing again.

“I’m inclined to agree, Cody is a wonderful asset to our team. As are you, you work very hard to keep us in the air.”

“Did Skywalker crash another one?” She asked, pulling some wires out of the wing as she spoke.

Those probably weren’t supposed to come out so easily.

“Yes. But I mean it, you’re a great asset to this team.”

Kyra blushed and waved him off, “thank you but really. Please. Yell at Skywalker.”

Kenobi smiled at that, “I’ll do my best.”

He left at that, it was just Cody and Kyra now. Did she have feelings for his general? Why did that sit funny with him?

“Will I find you among the other commanders and captains tonight, Cody?” She asked

“Maybe.” He answered, genuinely unsure.

He had so much to do in terms of paperwork and preparing for tomorrows meeting, but those beautiful brown eyes seemed to shine in the sunlight when they looked at him. They were an amber brown.

“I’ll look for you.” She said

That made his heart flutter but he chose to ignore it. She probably did like Kenobi, who wouldn’t? He had developed a slight crush on the man but it seemed to go away with time. Cody was pulled from his thoughts by Waxer, who was showing him a data pad to sign off on shinies.

Kyra had gone home after her work was done to wash up and change, going to 79s after. Isla was the only one there and she was preoccupied by Jesse so Kyra sat at the bar by herself. She was two whiskeys in when Cody approached her, sitting next to her at the bar now.

“Not going to go fight off potential bed warmers at the high command table?” She asked, probably a little too bold from the liquor.

Maybe Cody had misread what she meant when she said she would be looking for him but he wasn’t going to back down now, especially as Wolffe and Gregor gave him a thumbs up from their table. Kyra smiled a bit at that, maybe she should go easy on him.

“I’m only kidding, I know most of you have partners and aren’t like that. Although, sex is actually a great stress reliever.”

Too forward, too much. Someone kill her now. Kyra downed the rest of her whiskey and ordered two more.

“I think you’d like this stuff. If you don’t, hey. It’s a free drink.”

Cody took a sip of it, taking in the bitter somewhat smokey flavor of the liquor.

“It’s nice, thank you.” He said

“I’m not good with people. You put me in front of a broken ship or even building one, I’m spectacular but I can’t uh…I’m not the talker. I don’t talk to people well.” She admitted

“You don’t say.” Cody said, sarcasm laced heavily in his words.

Kyra blushed a bit at that, she wasn’t doing well with this at all. She opted for silence after and Cody hoped he didn’t offend her.

“I’m not much of a talker either.” He admitted.

“No?” She asked

He shook his head, “too much going on in my head. Sometimes I switch between Mando’a and basic without meaning to and one time, I accidentally insulted master Yoda. He was a Jedi about it but I still felt bad.” Cody sighed

“I insulted the Chancellor at a dinner once.” Kyra said, “to his face. It was an accident too. Kenobi really saved me from being arrested. Not that Thorn would have, not without me actually doing something illegal.”

“Have you ever been arrested?” He asked her.

Kyra faced him a little more now and he did the same to her, their knees bumping together going ignored by the two of them.

“I was held by the Corries for 1 night once. I accidentally stole a necklace but what happened was I was still kind of magnetic from an incident with one of the ships. Senators are dramatic and a necklace flew off of one of them onto me. Really, holding me was just a formality. I didn’t even go into a cell, I sat in Thorn’s office and played with Grizzer.”

“How did Fox let that slide?” He asked, taking another sip of whiskey.

“I’m friends with Kavra, she helped him take mercy on me. They should just shut up and date already. The world would be a happier place if people let go and let their feelings win sometimes.” She shrugged.

She was about to order another one, but Cody stopped her.

“Let’s get you some water and food first, okay? I know that hangovers during briefings are no fun.”

“Ah fuck, I have to sit in on that tomorrow?” She frowned

“Sorry.” He chuckled.

He ordered her water and something small to eat, Kyra watching him as he did so. He was in a black T-shirt and pants, no doubt the blacks from under their armor. He had various scars down his arms, but she noticed how toned his arms were and how long his fingers were. She shifted in her seat, clamping her thighs together.

“What?” He asked, noticing her watching.

She had to keep herself in check because it wasn’t polite to tell your sort of new friend you wanted them to choke you while railing you into next month. Kyra opted for a random fact that popped up in her mind, knowing it would divert the confused looking man from her semi-strange behavior.

“Some call you Commander Sunshine.” She said, smiling at him with teeth.

She had a small gap between her two front teeth and it lit up her whole face to smile. He felt his heart flip flop at that and couldn’t help his own smile.

“Why is that? I’ve been told I can be harsh on my men at times.”

Kyra vaguely gestured at him, as if that was answer enough and he laughed.

“Thank you for not clearing that up.” He said

“You’re welcome.” She smiled again.

After they both ate, continuing to talk, Kyra decided it was time to close her tab instead of keep drinking. The food seemed to sober her up a little bit and she knew a walk back in the cool air would help too. Cody insisted on walking her back to her apartment, it wasn’t far from here but he wasn’t going to take no for an answer on this. She was tipsy, he wasn’t going to leave her alone.

They walked in silence, enjoying the sounds around them as the cool air seemed to do the trick. It was a comfortable silence between the two of them and Kyra made a decision as they stopped outside of her apartment building.

“Did you want to come up for a cup of caf?”

Cody was a little startled by the question but said, “sure.” He followed her up, silently looking around the apartment while she went into the small kitchen. It was a little cluttered, lived in. Boots by the door, a jacket and scarf on a hook by the door. There was a couch with blankets draped in various spots and a data pad charging at a desk pressed against the wall in the corner. There was a small kitchen with barstools at an island instead of a table.

The counter top island had various jars and half drank cups of old caf on them. She had an easel set up too, tarp under it. A half painted bowl of fruit was on it, making him smile a bit. There was a small table in the middle of the room and another next to the couch, an end table. There was a helmet, beskar, but it seemed old. Worn, but not worn. The color of it a grey-blue mixture. Cody noticed there was a picture of a man with her by one of the lamps.

“I had a husband.” She said as she handed him the warm mug.

She was so quiet, he almost jumped out of his skin when she spoke. To sneak up on him was a feat many didn’t possess but he knew Kyra wasn’t going to harm him. Maybe.

“Had?” He asked

“He died. We had only been married for two years but it’s okay. It was an arrangement to bring our clans together, we were friends. Nothing more.”

“I’m still sorry.” He said

She nodded, “most people are.”

They both sipped their caf in silence. She sat on the couch and patted the spot next to her. Their legs touched again, silently enjoying the closeness but not admitting it.

“We should do this more.” She said suddenly.

“What?” He asked

“Hang out. Talk. Whatever this is.” She said, still not entirely sober but not entirely drunk either.

Cody brushed a strand of hair out of her face, the touch seeming to startle her. There was something slightly odd about the woman, anybody who spent more than 20 minutes with her could see it or sort of sense it. She seemed warm and kind, though, generally. The silences with her were comfortable, never tense or awkward. Eventually, Cody had fallen asleep on one side of the couch, Kyra falling asleep on the other. When she woke up, Cody was gone and it made her frown. She rather enjoyed his presence, she found, and it was sort of cold without him. She couldn’t explain it beyond that. There was a note taped to the fridge, the caf pot still warm to indicate he hadn’t left that long ago.

“Sorry if the caf is cold when you wake up, I didn’t want to bother you. See you at the meeting.”

Kriff. The meeting. She checked what time it was and saw she had an hour left to get ready and head over there. The caf would end up in a to-go mug after being microwaved due to waiting until after her shower. Her hair was down, air drying and she had on leggings and a tank top for now. She brought her data pad, just in case. She slid in next to Isla, maybe only 5 minutes late, and immediately felt a gaze on her.

Commander Cody, through his visor, staring right at her. She heard he hated tardiness and informalities, he was a proper commander after all. She smiled sheepishly at him before pulling up notes on her data pad. She paid very close attention, not noticing after a while that Cody seemed more interested in her than the meeting. You couldn’t really tell beyond the visor because it hid his face but Kenobi certainly noticed.

It was concern enough for the Jedi to pull Cody aside after the meeting, telling him he wished to speak to him in private. After everybody had filed out and it was only the two of them, Kenobi’s expression turned from friendly to very serious.

“I don’t know what your true relationship is with Kyra and it is not my business to pry in such matters, but you need to consider the relationship very carefully.” Kenobi said

Who was she that Obi-wan was warning him?

“We’re just friends, general. Nothing more.” Cody replied

“Even being her friend could lead to precarious situations. Her life is not as simple as it looks.”

How did Kenobi know all of that? Who or what was Kyra? The question seemed to entice him towards her more, sliding down to where she was working later in the day. She was with Aurora.

“So when is the wedding?” Kyra joked lightly.

“Shut up.” Aurora blushed

“Apologies, on interrupting.” Cody said as he approached.

“None needed, what brings you all the way down here?” Kyra asked

Ask her to dinner, for a drink. Kriff, she looked so beautiful in those leggings and tank top, her hair pulled up in a bun again out of her face. She had freckles across her nose and a few scars here and there down her arms and back.

“Cody?” She asked, tilting her head to the side slightly now.

He cleared his throat, “I need to speak with the General. I came looking for her.”

Why couldn’t he just ask this woman on a proper date? Cody was smooth, he could usually sweet talk his way into anybody’s bed but with Kyra he always found himself falling short.

“Well, I am done with her for now so I suppose you can borrow her. Only for a little while, commander.” She said, giving him that bright smile again.

“You should come to 79’s tonight.” He blurted out.

Yup. Smooth.

“Why is that?” She asked, looking amused still.

“You made a comment about the commanders and captains turning away bed warmers and I wanted to turn that jab into a bet.” He said

Something unreadable flashed through Kyra’s expression, there and gone in a second.

“Deal. I’ll be joining your table tonight then, warn the others.” She said

“Don’t you mean inform the others?” Aurora asked

“I didn’t stutter.” Kyra said before going back to working on repairs.

Maker, what had Cody gotten him and his vod into?

[thecopyeditorsdesk]

Posting from the app because, well, read on, you’ll see. And forgive any typos and poor communication, my entire crew of editors is off for five weeks so I’m winging it. :)

“No Deity is ‘Out to Get You’”

Finals week this semester was as terrible as the semester, and I suppose that's only fitting. It would probably be depressing if everything went smoothly the last week after the previous 15 weeks had been a waking nightmare. I'm not the only one feeling this way. It's been a challenging term for almost every student I spoke with since September.

Finals week for me, though, was a bit over the top.

OK, so to start and finish, when I submitted my final papers, the computer submitted only the first saved draft. I'm not sure if that is a stupid feature with auto-save or if it was related to my other fun moment, namely when my laptop fell apart. So I spent the week having mini heart attacks when I would see Fs on all my papers. Fortunately, most of my profs notified me. I suppose this is why some older profs still insist on a paper copy.

So, yeah, my laptop fell apart. Was that Thursday morning? I think so. Because Wednesday night, I was busy getting my van towed because it was dead too. I'm glad it lasted until I didn't need to drive to campus. I worked from home on Thurs and Fri; a good thing about modern life, if only it were all good, eh?

That's the short of it.

I was relieved, as I always am when life goes to hell, that I gave up religion. Fundamentalism makes you paranoid, and everything that goes wrong in your life is either a punishment or god "teaching" you to let go of the world and cling to him. *vomit* Of course, any atheist will say this is bunk. Still, when we leave religion, it sometimes takes religion a while to leave us.

After I left and started talking with other ex-religionists, I was surprised that they almost all said the same thing, "I miss the spirituality, the feelings of closeness to something outside myself." This sentiment is the sort of thing that confused me even when I was religious. I was surrounded by people who claimed to have been "touched" by god and felt his presence, peace, whatever you have, but I have never had a spiritual experience. I am not wired that way, and I'm too skeptical. Also, highly strung people hearing voices in their heads and feeling a physical touch from an invisible person make me more than a little nervous.

But I had my own religious hanger-on. I still carried the paranoia. Everything terrible that happened to us still felt like we were somehow singled out for the pain. It wasn't easy to deal with. When things went poorly, I reacted in the extreme because of the paranoia. I would be so angry and then strung out on the pain that I could barely function.

Finally, at some point during our time trapped in the house for nearly two years, it dawned on me that life just sucks. The US is a capitalistic cesspool. Everyone will suffer because no one who cares has the time or resources to do anything about the problems. The rich do not give a fuck about anyone but themselves. So, yeah, all of our lives are going to suck.

Why does this matter?

Well, it matters because when something terrible happens, and I have my mini heart attack, I can recover in a very short period of time. I was surprised, this time around how, after dealing with each problem, I was able to calm down almost immediately. It was nice.

It takes a long time to undo 45 years of brainwashing. But, eventually, it can happen.

[bibliocratic]

muddle along or: the Pokemon / TMA crossover I’ve been promising @speakerunfolding for AGES jonmartin early S4

Jon considers the knapsack left for him.

Exhaustion is already feasting on any clarity he might have obtained in the near quiet. His body stiff, unused to the casual labour of his bones. The storage room, its shelves overburdened, the air vents popping like cracked knuckles, has gained nothing in his absence except a resurgence of dust and, in a dismal corner, a pile of boxes and a suitcase. A pathetic truncated shrine to his thirty odd years of living.

They moved his possessions here, when his rent went unpaid, when his water bills and council tax and internet payment reminders piled up like demanding snowdrift on his mucky welcome mat. Mutely, he glances over the hastily sellotaped boxes that now form his packaged-up life with all the distance that six months of bad dreams have afforded him.

He wonders who packed up his kitchenware, despairing at the mismatched cutlery harvested from student halls and charity-shop finds; clucked their teeth at the bread freckling mouldy in the barren landscape of his fridge; folded his clothes neatly into the suitcase he always kept stuffed under his unmade bed, even pairing up his socks; who took the books off his shelves in the belief he might thumb through them again one day.

He wonders if it was Martin.

Basira gave him the knapsack some hours ago. When he’d found some semblance of normalcy in the dull weight of a sandwich coating his stomach, dressed in clothes that now hang like rags off a coat hanger, sat at the table in the otherwise empty staff room with the heat of a cup of tea cactus-prickling his palms.

“He asked if you’d look after them,” she’d said. The strap of the bag held securely in the jaw of her Absol. “While he’s – well, you know…” She waves an exasperated done-with-it hand that manages to express a multitude of emotions that refract and merge like the morphing shades of a bruise. “Doing whatever the hell it is he’s doing. Or he thinks he’s doing.”

Jon wishes he knew.

He sits cross-legged in front of the storage room door, a sharp-boned barricade, thrumming like a struck tuning fork with the thought that even here, he will not be safe.

Gardevoir is a heavy weight against his shoulder. She’s quieter than he remembers, solemn and sombre in her new form. She used to demand being lifted up when she was Ralts, her flat red horns digging into his chest and leaving impressions, scrabbling down to shelter half-behind his legs when strangers approached. He left for the Unknowing and she’d been Kirlia, her face set and her cries insistent and infuriated, trying to push her Pokeball into his hand to make him bring her with them. Tim hadn’t asked where she was, when they all piled into the rental car, Houndoom taking up one of the seats in the back but snarling when Basira suggested putting her in her ball.

Jon doesn’t know when she evolved. It pains him, a dull-knife strike of thought, another wave against his tide-bashed flood barriers, to have slept through such a moment in her life when every other milestone they shared together.

“Now is a good a time as any, I suppose?” he asks her. His voice traces above a whisper. His Abra has calmed now, drained down from a difficult and teary reunion, and is now breathing deep and slow, curled into the port of his crossed legs. His three-fingered hands are still clenching the fabric of Jon’s shirt.

Gardevoir nods. Then gives him a nudge and a look when it seems as though he’s stalling, when he must be bleeding out apprehension like watercolours seeping through paper.

“Can’t get anything past you now, huh,” he says. She smiles, fond and he manages a short smile back, and it is almost, almost like it was before.

The bag is old, its original function probably for a laptop of some kind. The plasticky outer skin of it has rubbed away, flaking to mesh at the edges, the piping worn down to wires. Jon folds back the front of the bag, and inside there are four Pokeballs, the basic and cheapest red-and-white models. Jon had worked a thankless summer job at a beach-side amusement arcade to save up the money to get Ralts a customised ball, and had done similar when Abra came along a few years later.

To the side of the Pokeballs, ziplocked and labelled, there is a small forest of freezer bags bulging with berries and treats and care equipment. In a plastic pocket, there are precisely written instructions pertaining to each Pokemon and their requirements, and Jon’s throat tightens unexpectedly to see Martin’s looping joined-up handwriting, to see words that seem penned by someone who doesn’t expect to be coming back.

Gardevoir makes a low noise next to him. Her arm alighting on his, a solid weight, grounding. Jon clears his throat and takes out the Pokeball nearest the top, pushing the button on the front so the size balloons to fill his palm.

Most people have one Pokemon, maybe two, unless they’re involved in competitive breeding and training. When Abra came along, he remembers his gran remarking on the upkeep, how it would be his responsibility to feed and care for and train them, and it hadn’t been the cheapest venture but Jon had born the expense gladly.  It doesn’t surprise him that Martin has amassed so many in comparison to the norm.

At lunch one day years ago, the weather nipping frost-touched, they’d sat outside a cramped cafe because there’d been no seats indoors, and Martin had confessed that he was always taking them in. Thinking back, Jon knows that Martin was attempting to keep the conversation buoyant, coaxing him away from deeper, darker waters. Jon remembers being irritated, sore-eyed with sleeplessness, his spine strung with paranoia.

“My lost causes, Mum called them,” Martin had said, and his voice had tried for a levity that landed without cushioning. He’d torn off a bit from the end of his panini to feed a hopeful-looking Pidove pecking expectantly around their feet. The cause of the conversational turn, Martin’s newest acquisition, had sat grumpily mewling on the other man’s knee, wriggling and sniping as he tried to feed them some medication he’d got from the vet. Despite himself, Jon had been distracted from miring thoughts of Gertrude by watching Martin’s charade unfold, the man making a show of giving up with a theatrical sigh to scratch the Nidoran behind the ears in a show of defeat, being careful of their spikes. The Nidoran had headbutted his hand whenever his motions slowed to stopping, and Martin had used the distraction to fold a chorizo slice he’d pulled from his panini around the pill, which the Nidoran had happily snaffled from his fingers, gulping it down before returning to demand affection.

“They’ll be all healed up within the week,” Martin had continued, plastering over the continued lull with his chattering. “I’ve taken in a few Nidorans before, they tend to be pretty hardy.” He had scratched under the Nidoran’s chin as his words ebbed with the nudging of an undemanding tide.

Jon had picked at his sandwich as Martin had fold him about hiding Pidgeys and Swablus in an old shoebox under his bed, lined with the nesting material of some of his t-shirts donated to the cause. A chipped-edge bowl borrowed from the kitchen brimming with water and his own early team of Pokemon keeping them company while their wings healed in their splints before they were strong enough to leave again.

These four Pokeballs in the knapsack aren’t just random strays. They’re Martin’s Pokemon. The ones that never left him, the ones that he’s raised and doted upon and taken worriedly to the Pokecentre over every cough and sniffle and fever.

And for the meantime, they’re Jon’s.

Jon presses the release button on the first ball.

There is a chittering surprised coo as an Oddish materialises in a buzz of light and reforming matter.  They reform to stand a little higher than Jon’s ankle, only to fold their leaves half over their eyes at the unkindness of the halogen strip light. They totter when they take a step, tumbling to sitting with an affronted noise before, with a determined heft, they rock themselves up to standing again. Jon’s seen Martin’s Oddish before, approaching every walk around the assistant’s office space like a tightrope. Tim had bought them a little plant pot as a novelty Christmas gift once, and they’d unironically loved it, hopping into it cosily and getting specks of soil all over Martin’s desk.

Their leaves are poked through with ragged little holes, like they’ve been nibbled away, the green tinged in places to a sickly yellow. In the bag there is a vial of luminous blue medicine, complete with dropper and application instructions. It’s a stress thing, he dimly remembers Martin had once explained to him. It’s like an eczema, of a sort, that afflicts Grass-types, but it affects Oddish’s balance when it flares up.

The Oddish looks at Jon. They don’t have a neck as such, so they lean their whole bulb-like body backwards on their stumpy legs to study Gardevoir, who gives a reassuring blink. They glance around the storage room and its uninspired treasures of boxes and the unpromisingly weak-seeming metal frame of the cot, with a fretful shake of their leaves. They’re expecting to see someone else.

“Hello,” Jon says. He clears his throat, attempting to present a friendly face, to avoid the grimace he senses forming at his discomfort, his presentation to a critical audience that is already finding him wanting. “I’m… well, I’m Jon. You’ve probably seen me before, I’m um… I’m a f-friend of Martin’s. He’s, well, he’s not here at the moment. But he asked me to look after you. While he’s – he’s away.”

Oddish blinks their beady round red eyes. Their leaves wave uncertainly with the lazy swish of palm fronds. They coo again, a longer sound, plaintive and stretched out in melancholy. They take the opportunity to look around again, a full-body swivel that has them unbalanced, but Gardevoir leans down with a careful hand to steady them upright.

Jon watches them amble off to study their surroundings. Every so often crying out in a searching noise. Gardevoir keeps an eye on them as they rootle around in one of the boxes they can reach.

The next few releases are equally unsuccessful. Skitty reforms only to barrel under the cot as a pink-and-white blur, slinking further back with his tail swishing furiously whenever Jon addresses him. One undamaged ear twitches anxiously. The next Pokemon fails to materialise at all, refusing to leave their ball.

This was a mistake. Martin should have known better, known him enough to see that he would be no good at this, his skills in offering comfort atrophied. He can barely take care of himself, these days. Never mind additional charges who are scared, who need reassurance that is rendered rusty in his throat.

He reaches out to cradle the last ball in his cupped palms. He knows who is inside. The youngest of Martin’s acquisitions, and as far as Jon was aware, full-on adverse to getting inside a Pokeball. Their favoured mode of travel was Martin, using him as a climbing frame while he attempted to work, kicking their little feet against his forehead, clinging giggly to his mop of hair to get a better view, squealing shrill and disruptive and delighted when Martin would playfully shake his head to rock them. He thinks with the uncertainty that memory offers him, that Sasha had loved them, lifted them and pretending to throw them while they chattered and babbled, snuck them berries when Martin wasn’t looking. Jon has paid ear to more than one lecture from Martin on nutrition and proper feeding times and sugar levels. They might have played with Sasha’s own Pokemon, like they had tottered after Houndour’s short and wagging tail when she was out of her ball, like they had ran after Skitty to join in games, but that memory has been scratched from recollection like initials scored out of tree bark.

They were by nature vocal, rambunctious, unthinking and unheedful of danger, a child really, and Martin had been forever apologising when Jon would find them where they weren’t meant to be, carrying them back cautiously and carefully to Martin’s fretful hands. He thinks Martin had thought that they had irritated him. It hadn’t been that. They had been so small, smaller than they should have been for their species, the runt of some litter abandoned or lost by their parent or cracked and emerging blinking from their egg over-early. They had been so curious, and the world of the archives had grown increasingly unsafe around them. Jon had worried, in his own poorly expressed way.

He presses the button, and aims at the ground. Martin’s Togepi manifests in a fizz of red light and sound crackling like champagne.

They turn around with a confused noise.

Jon gets the chance to voice an awkward, low-pitched ‘hello’ before they take one look at him and their face clenches upset, breath starting to bubble with sobs.

“Oh, oh, nonono, hey,” Jon says, scooping them up into his hands. Abra is dislodged, wakes up startled and teleports a few feet away with a ‘pop’ of displaced air. “It’s… nonono, shush, it’s alright.”

Big messy tears fall out of screwed up eyes. Hitching sobs lengthen into wails. Jon looks frantically at Gardevoir as he rocks and shushes the bawling Pokemon against his chest in a way Martin was so much better at.

Martin would know what to do, what to say. How all this could work out for the best. But Martin isn’t here.

Jon’s own eyes dampen.

“Shshshsh,” he croaks thickly. “It’s – it’s going to be alright. I’ve got you.”

He uses the sleeve of his shirt to wipe away the worst of the tears. He strokes the top of Togepi’s head.

“It’s going to be alright,” Jon repeats.

Many hours later, Jon wakes up, cotton-mouthed and his back vengeful for the position he’s slept in. His legs, still crossed, have degraded to numbness that he’ll pay for as soon as he wants to stand. In his lap, he sees the matryoshka doll set up that’s occurred, Togepi exhaling with little whistling breaths into Abra’s chest, Abra’s face planted against Jon’s shirt. Skitty has emerged from his defensive fort under the cot to coil into a ball of heat, curled up in the crook of Abra’s overhanging tail. Gardevoir is half-awake in that dozing but alert way she has, and she must have turned off the light in the room because it’s dark except for the emergency glow from the fire-exit sign that casts the walls and floor in an unsettling green. Jon sees the husk of an opened Pokeball, the shadow of something small and yellow crouched on Gardevoir’s shoulder, and something inside him eases, just a little bit.

Oddish is looking up at him from the floor. Jon moves the only hand he has that’s not squashed under Abra, and when he sets it down they alight with an unsteady gait and he transfers them to the higher terrain of his knee. He rubs a careful finger along their leaves until they sit, their head nodding as they struggle to stave off sleep, although they still glance around with uncertain eyes.

The room has dropped colder. Oddish shivers along with Jon.

“I know,” Jon says. “I miss him too.”

[userpoe]

you bring me home

pairing: poe dameron & gn!reader 

word count: 800+ 

summary: repairs on Black One go...awry

warnings: n/a, poe messing around with wires without gloves again because he’s a fool and we should’ve known I’d make a fic about it eventually. (very loose) prompt fill from luminouspoes: i was wondering if you'd mind writing something about poe taking a quiet recruit that just joined the resistance under his wing.

“Can you hand me the -”

Without lifting your gaze from your holopad and the book you were reading on it, you handed Poe the roll of spacing tape he needed. He was on a mechanic’s creeper, curled up underneath Black One and doing his damndest to fix the newest set of repairs on his own without enlisting the help of any of the mechanics on base.

So far, there’d been a lot of swearing.

You weren’t really necessary for the process of repairing Poe’s beloved X-Wing, you were mostly just there to spend time with Poe. You’d already finished all your duties for the day and hadn’t been assigned anything else so far, so you’d sought out Poe. Ever since you’d joined the Resistance six months ago, Poe had taken you under his wing - you were training to become a pilot, but it went beyond just being potential future squadmates or him simply helping you with your training...he’d become your friend.

It seemed strange, considering you were relatively quiet in comparison to him, but somehow the differences in your personalities seemed to reasonably balance each other out. He got you to come out of your shell a little bit, and you got him to slow down here and there.

Which sometimes meant reclining against a trolley full of tools and catching up on reading while the empty hanger filled with the sound of various classic tunes playing from his radio as he worked, the air balmy even as the sun crept lower and lower toward the edge of the horizon.

You jumped when a series of sparks exploded beneath the X-Wing and you heard Poe swear again. Instinctually, you grabbed his legs and yanked him and the creeper out from beneath the ship. His face was covered in soot and his eyes were squeezed shut in anticipation of pain. You rolled your lips in a tight line as he went on a little face journey, anticipation sliding to confusion, then bafflement, and then he peered open one dark eye at you, and he grinned. “My hero,” Poe said, patting you on your thigh as he sat up with a groan.

“Still certain you can fix it without anyone’s help?” You asked, trying not to laugh as you sat aside your things to fetch him a clean cloth to wash up with. Poe ran a hand through his curls to shake out any residue from the tiny explosion, as you crouched back down in front of him with a clean grease rag you’d found. You’d dumped some water from your canteen onto it, so you could scrub his face clean.

“I didn’t want to bother anyone with it,” Poe protested as you wiped away the soot, frowning as he added, “and it seemed like a simple fix.”

You tried not to laugh again, but for a very different reason: it was an open secret on base that Poe was completely oblivious to how…mercurial Black One could be. BB-8 had referred to it as a ‘pain in the ass’ more than once in the time you’d known the droid. It was no surprise to you that Poe was having such a difficult time repairing it. “It’s never simple with your ship, Dameron. You know you could have at least put gloves on, you’ll electrocute yourself if you’re not careful.”

“C’mon hotshot, careful’s my middle name.”

“Is it?” You ask innocently, “I could have sworn it was menace -” you shrieked as he shot his hand out to tickle your sides in retribution. You swatted at his shoulder with the rag to get him to stop so you could finish cleaning up his face.

“There,” you said once you’d gotten the last strips of grime off his face. Poe smiled gratefully up at you, and your heart did a tiny somersault as you returned it. “All cleaned up now.”

“Thanks,” Poe said, taking the rag from you to wash his hands. “Are you hungry?”

“Little bit,” you admitted. It was closely approaching dinner time. “Why, are you?”

“Kind of. I was thinking about running to the mess and grabbing us some plates of food to bring back here for us.” Poe said, sliding off the creeper, which he kicked back underneath Black One, which he shot a slightly dirty look for good measure, before turning back to you with a hopeful expression.

“You don’t wanna eat in the mess tonight?” You asked, head tilted slightly to the side in confusion.

“Not really. I’m kind of enjoying hanging out here with you and the music,” he nudged your leg with his knee. “Minor explosions notwithstanding, it’s been fun.”

That did make you laugh. “You are a ridiculous, ridiculous man, Poe Dameron. But I accept.” You hesitated, then added, “Bring back some caf too if they have any?”

Poe was already scrambling to his feet, stopping long enough to drop a kiss to the top of your temple. “You got it, hotshot. I’ll be back before you know it!” And then he was jogging his way back further into the base, to collect yours and his dinner.

You watched after him for a minute, then shook your head with another, softer indulgent smile. You weren’t sure how you got so lucky to have a friend like him, but on nights like this, you especially felt grateful you’d chosen each other.

[officialleehadan]

Crafter to Fly

Today's story was brought to you by Brandon! Thank you so much for all your support, darling! It really does mean the world to me!

Prompt: Star Light Star Bright

+++

Nobody was supposed to be touching the Wonder.

It wasn’t that Tallulah was territorial about the ship, although she was, it was that the ship was in a profound state of deconstruction, and more than half of it was held together by unfinished stardust. It was something of a death trap for anyone who wasn’t already a starworker, and she didn’t want some poor engineer to get hurt.

All things considered, however, she thought they would probably come out ahead. There were smudges of orange stardust on parts of the engine. Tiny and barely-there, they felt like a desert, like deep, dangerous water, like the heat of a place where the earth was old and new at the same time.

But the desert was not Yaz’s, the water was not Greta’s, and none of them knew the heat of new, bubbling stone.

“Our Crafter has woken,” she told the others when they met for breakfast. “I haven’t seen her. She’s fast and clever, and good at not being caught.”

“How do you know it’s her?” Rema had asked curiously. As the newest of their family, the Flame was still coming into her power. “I didn’t feel her.”

‘None of us did. I wonder if she’s trying to hide,” Li Hua mused. She let green stardust scales ripple over her skin, and then blew them off in the form of pear blossoms. As always, she wore a crown of flowers, with just the hint of dragon horns woven in. “It’s even possible that she doesn’t know what she is.”

“I think we may have to set a trap for her,” Greta said mischievously with the cleverness of Thought and Memory in her eyes like a glittering blue promise. “Is she the one who fixed the engines? Rema, didn’t you say it was odd?”

“I thought maybe Tallulah and Yaz did it,” Rema had told them. “The stardust was orange like lava and sunset. I figured you did it together.”

“Not us,” Yaz said, and sat back to think. “Alright, sisters. Time to catch our Crafter. What do we know about her?”

+

It took two days of planning and a cunningly-designed bait in the form of a difficult engineering problem. Yaz and Rema made themselves conspicuous among the engineers, loudly complaining of the impossible problem, and complaining of their own inability. Most of the help they received was useful, but none of it was of the starlight. Their Crafter was either smart enough to see their trap for what it was, or she wasn’t there to hear about it.

Tallulah followed the smudges, barely-there against the yellow-gold of her own and Yaz’s deep red. They glimmered orange, blended so seamlessly into the ship’s metal that it took all her skill to find it, but when she did, she couldn’t help but be impressed.

Here and there were masterwork changes, most often tiny and subtle, but flawless. Their Crafter knew her work well. Tallulah couldn’t wait to meet her.

In the end, it was an accident on all parts that led to the capture of their Crafter.

Tallulah had just about given up on their trap, and was instead on top of the ship with a sketchbook in her hands. Grandmother said it was always good to send time with a new canoe, to let it learn your spirit. The Wonderwas rather bigger than the canoes of home, but Tallulah thought the same principles applied. After all, the Wonderwould carry them to the stars. The least she could do was share company with their ship.

Greta, another daughter of a seagoing people, was asleep on the metal panels with her head in Li Hua’s lap as their Healer read, a data padd balanced on their Sailor’s forehead. Yaz wasawake, but she was weaving Rema’s hair into a thick braid, decorated by long golden chains and deep purple ribbons.

At the faint sound of footsteps, Tallulah sat up, but held her finger to her lips to keep her sisters from rousing too quickly. Soon after, there was a soft clink of metal, and the Wondershook with the weight of someone moving about inside her unfinished bulk.

Their Crafter could never resist the challenge of a difficult problem and a ship that was meant to take her into the sky.

Together, Tallulah stood with her sisters. One by one, they leapt down from the Wonder’s hull, carried by the wings of their legends, to land on the hanger floor. The faintest light came from within their ship, the pale orange of the small hand-lights the engineers used.

“No wonder she doesn’t know who she is,” Yaz realized in a whisper. “Look at the light. She can’t see her own starlight.”

“We should be grateful, it let us find her,” Li Hua whispered back. She linked hands with Yaz, and together their red-green light crept over the ship. “Now to make sure she does not flee us before we’ve time to learn her name.”

From somewhere inside the ship, there was a squawk of alarm as their Crafter suddenly realized she wasn’t alone. Soon after, there was the crash of someone dropping what sounded like most of a tool bag. Soon after that, there was a great deal of what could only be profanity, although Tallulah didn’t know the language.

“You can come out, sister,” Li Hua called into the gloom. “Dear one, you’re not in any trouble.”

There was another rattle from inside the ship, but after a minute, punctuated by another crash and the sound of someone getting tangled in the dangling wires, their Crafter emerged.

She was tall, with inky dark skin and brightly-colored glass beads in her tightly-braided hair. She wore a bright set of engineer’s coveralls, and carried a heavy bag of tools in one hand.

Tallulah didn’t think she noticed the deep orange stardust that lingered on the Wonder whenever their sister let her fingers touch the ship.

“I’m sorry, it was just so pretty,” she said before Tallulah or any of their other sisters could speak. “And I heard- I heard you were having problems with the accelerator, and I know how to fix that if you just give me a little time and maybe if you don’t report me to Commander Oko?”

“Oh, sweet sister,” Yaz started to laugh in the middle of the frantic sentence and stepped forward to bring the young engineer into their group. “There will be a report to Oko, but I think it will please you. After all, our Crafter should have full reach over our ship, should she not?”

“Wait,” the engineer said, and pulled away. She didn’t get far before Li Hua was there with a reassuring smile. “You think I’m like you? No way. I don’t have any of the whatever-it-is. I’m not special.”

“Neither was I, until the stars woke for me,” Rema told her, and took one of their Crafter’s hands in hers. Orange light woke to meet Rema’s purple when she pressed their palms together. “What is your name, Crafter? And who are your people?”

“Thabisa,” their Crafter named herself to their group. Tallulah rolled the name over her tongue and felt it take root in her heart where it belonged. “My people are Zulu… and I think I know how to fix your ship.”

“Our ship,” Tallulah corrected her warmly, yellow-gold of one ancient people meeting deep orange of another when they clasped hands. “Come, sister. Show us how you’ve solved our problem, and we will teach you of the stars.”

+++

Star Light Star Bright:

Three woman took to the stars. Three women learned that the Stars hold secrets of their own that humanity has yet to rediscover.

Call the Stars

Our Legends True

Little Fish (Free on Patreon!)

Wings and Wings and Wings

The Bones of a Ship

Pear Blossoms (Free on Patreon!)

Beacon Calling

Build the Wings

+++

More Stories!

+++

[bioticgoddess]

Summary: "Never said the plan wasn't complex, only that it'd work." - Nymue, a warlock, as she works on some paint touch ups to her ghost Merlin's shell.

Warlock Nymue, her Fire Team, and their friends within the Tower are several flavors of done with watching the slow and painfully awkward waltz that is Saint-14 and Osiris in a post-Sagira world. What else is there to do but hatch a plan...or several...to convince these (very) Old Men to do something other than continue on with their stumbling.

Pairings: Osiris/Saint-14 (O14) [Canon]

--

I. Outside the City, Mid-Afternoon:

She ambushed him. Dragging the senior Warlock out beyond the wall to a cliff overlook not far from the protection of the wall. It had served as an escape route for the then-lightless Guardians and civilians during the Red War. Despite being relatively unsheltered, it was- thanks to the patrol of her fire team - a safe place for now. Her ghost floated close enough that they could have rested on her shoulder. Voice filled with the smile it couldn't give, the ghost spoke, "Nymue, the others confirm, coast is clear."

"Thank you Merlin," she hadn't taken her glowing green eyes off the older Warlock. “Give Iothane and Verity my thanks.” The ghost bobbed like it was nodding at her. Iothane was a broad shoulder but bookish Awoken Titan. Their Hunter, Verity, had a penchant for getting into trouble - the kind that earned accolades and titles and an obscene amount of glimmer. Both had agreed without a second thought when the Warlock relayed her plan.

In his typically composed and regal way, the older Guardian didn’t balk beneath the younger woman’s glare. Behind the scarf that served as a facemask, he returns his own piercing glare. Golden-brown eyes locked with her own and were only visible beneath his Phoenix helm because of their height difference.

Her ghost dissolved away with the kind of groan that accompanied rolled eyes, disappearing for the time. Though they were likely gone to find Glint and Crow aboard the HELM. To warn them that one of the quiet Hunter’s favored Warlocks was going to be in a foul mood.

"I am going back to the City," Osiris snapped, breaking the tense silence that had fallen over them. He didn’t move or even pretend like he was going to. He remained rooted in place, challenging the younger Warlock to further explain herself. A challenge she’d expected.

“No, you’re going to hear what I have to say first,” she countered, arms folded over the black and violet of her robes. “Or I can get Iothane to come and set up a barrier until my persistence wears you down old man.” It wasn’t a threat, the gentle jibe at the end as glaring as the sunbeams that reflected off his helm.

Snorting he continued to glare, jaw tense. Nymue was certain that, if she squinted, she could see him grind his teeth. “Fine.”

“We’re worried about you. Saint, Zavala, Ikora, Crow, Amanda, our ghosts, all of us. Everyone whose lives you’ve touched is worried about you. None of us can even begin to imagine what you’re going through without,” she caught the narrowing of his gaze and the straightening of his shoulders before Sagira’s name left her lips but said it anyway. “Sagira. She was a part of you and there with you in a way that maybe Crow and Glint comprehend. But...you also broke every rule of temporal mechanics that I can think of in order to save Saint. I didn’t get to see you two together before losing her but...the way Verity describes it...well, she is fond of saying that she wants a partner who looks at her the way you and Saint looked at each other when no one was watching. Or at least when you thought no one would see.”

He swallowed and hung his head. Nymue persisted. “It’s not going to be easy, but...you can’t shut everyone out. It’s only going to hurt more in the long term. At least...don’t shut out Saint. No one can deny what and how deeply you feel for one another.”

The silence returned with the sun’s continued trek towards the horizon.

The Great Osiris stared down at his feet, presumably mulling over how to respond and if making good on his threat to storm off back to the Tower was the right plan all along. There was nothing she could do to stop him, not really, and the both knew it. Yet he stayed there, the focus of the younger Warlocks’ gaze while he (hopefully) thought further on what he could or would say and where to even begin.

Raptors called in the distance, hunting some rodent or warning other birds to stay out of their territory. He’d been doing that for months - posture and snapping at some of the other guardians in the tower. The Old Man’s way of pushing back those closest to him, keeping them away. Nymue had had enough after overhearing the conversation between Saint-14 and Osiris about the corruption that had seeped into the Trials. Sure, Saint had insisted that it wasn’t anything to be worried about but the way the Exo had shifted on his feet told another story. He was more upset, more concerned, than he dared share - with any of them.

Voice heavy and shaky enough that it sounded like he was crying or was about to cry, “I’m going to die Nymue. One day, I will die a final death and leave him alone. There is no Ghost in all the system who can bring me back when that day comes.” He toed the ground with his boot, “Saint is my everything. The only person who understood me half so well was Sagira. She kept me from despair during my exile and again when I did not think he could be saved and now…” He trailed off, hands floating up to hide his shaded face.

“Osiris,” this time the younger Awoken’s voice was gentle, “Talk to him. You know Saint better than any of us.” She rested a hand on one of his forearms, careful not to get caught in any of the wires on his gauntlets. “Let him be there for you. The both of you deserve the chance, no matter what the end may be.”

Head and eyes tilted up to her face. “When did you become so wise,” Osiris wondered. His brows relaxed and eyes, through red with tears that threatened to spill forth, no longer contained the storm that had been brewing for the last several months. It even looked as though he might have let a smile cross part way over his features behind that scarf of his.

“I had a good teacher.”

---

II. The Hangar Bay

He’d nodded. He’d agreed to be less closed off. Every time he looked in the hanger and saw Saint, however, his throat closed and heart hammered in his chest. It threatened to break free of his breast bone and ribs. How had Nymue convinced him to unburden himself out in the wilds? How? What damn fool sorcerery did the girl know that he’d missed in all his centuries!? Oh but she’d been right, damn her. He needed to talk to Saint, he owed him that much and more. No matter how long he had, he needed the Titan in his life. He always had. Then he caught his gaze, cheeks turning a deeper shade of brownish-red when his husband looked up in his general direction. Not for the last time was he thankful for the cover of his scarf.

Like a child caught in Ikora’s severe gaze, he gave a stiff about face and marched off back towards the market and his now Vanguard former pupil.

--

“Third time today; you owe me glimmer,” Verity grumbled from her perch atop her drop ship, watching Osiris scurry away regally. If he’d had a Hunter’s cloak to billow behind him it could have been comical. Instead his retreats bordered on depressing.

Turning her head up and to the left to see her team-leader, legs stretched out along the wing of the drop ship, the warlock grinned wryly, “Not yet. Crow and I have a plan.” Her Awoken skin sparkled with her air of confidence.

“You need to take your own advice when it comes to him,” the hunter rolled her eyes.

Iothane chuckled, raking a hand through his short cropped navy-blue hair, “She’s got a point. Talk to him.” The Titan was laid out on a work lift beneath the same wing serving as their Warlock’s chaise, fidgeting with a wiring harness.

Snorting and rolling her eyes, she glared, “First, shut up both of you. Second, I’ll think about it, after we fix this.” She waved her hand between where they could see Saint-14 and where Osiris had been.

Their ghosts floated overhead, looking between one another, shifting in what resembled shaking heads.

--

Crow and Nymue leaned conspiratorially against Amanda Holliday’s work station in the Hangar. The Hunter occasionally looked over his Warlock companion’s shoulder to see if Saint-14 had moved or if Osiris had returned to the Hanger Bay. “You sure this will work,” he asked the blonde shipwright.

She shook a hand dismissively, not looking up from the interface, “I don’t tell you how to fight, you don’t tell me how to reprogram the Transmat System. Alright?” Her tone was slightly indignant, offended even.

“Yes ma’am,” he stammered, elbowing Nymue when she laughed behind her hands.

After a few minutes of tapping and swiping her fingers across the screen, Amanda warned, “You two don’t want to be anywhere near the City when they get out of there y’know.”

“Got that covered,” the Warlock grinned. “We will be running a recon mission on Nessus with my Fire Team.” Crow nodded, straightening as he kept a vigil watch out for the two senior Guardians.

“And you’re sure Ikora and Zavala are okay with this,” the woman turned finally, rolling her shoulders several times to stretch back out from her stooped position over the console. A confirmation request screen glaring up at her, the work her co-conspirators had tasked her to complete not yet finished.

The Awoken woman rattled, hands waving as she recounted her last interaction with the Vanguard Warlock. “Zavala? No clue. Ikora, well, she said something about turning a blind eye before winking at me, which was weird, and going off to her Library with both Ophiucus and Geppetto.”

“Well, alright then,” Amanda chuckled, her attention returning to the screen. With a few final taps of the console, she finished her work. “We’re good to go. Good luck.”

--

III. The Tower Library: A Private Study

Saint-14 Pushed on the door again. It wouldn’t budge. His ghost Geppetto was nowhere to be found, he’d called for her several times in the hope that she could help them - Osiris and himself - find their way out of the room. To maybe go fetch Zavala or Ikora or anyone of the others and see if they could open it from the other side.

“It’s no use Saint, this room is like Ikora’s library - only one way in or out. Transmat,” Osiris sat with a huff in one of the plush chairs.

“Yes, Yes, but then surely we should be able to Transmat out of here,” the Titan countered. Then the it hit him, like an arc-grenade to the face, that was the problem. They couldn’t Transmat. “Oh no,” he whispered softly, raising one of his big hands to his face. Someone had set a trap and the two of them had walked right into it. He let silence fill the room, occasionally punctuated by a pensive huff or hum coming from his husband’s seat next to the tall skinny window - their primary source of light. It was, upon further assessment as he finally turned around, too skinner for either of them to hope to squeeze through.

Feet hitting the throw-rug laden floor heavily, Saint strode from the sealed mockery of a door to the chair opposite Osiris. Pulling off his helmet as he sat, the Exo asked, “So how were you lured into this trap?”

“Nymue,” The man groaned, his own helm perched like a bird on a stack of books to his left. Saint’s came to rest on the sad little window sill, half balanced on the table between them. “There was some text she and her Ghost were having difficulty with. One day,” he shook his head and sighed, “I’ll learn just how crafty my students can be.” It was applicable to Ikora as well, and every other warlock or Guardian he had mentored over the years.

“Her Titan friend Iothane,” he chuckled, recalling how the stocky Awoken man had come to him earlier in the day with a research request of great importance, or he speculated as such, to the City’s Titan. One that could only be filled by Saint, or so the younger Guardian had said before taking off at what was - in hindsight - a suspiciously brisk pace. How gullible he’d been, letting himself be pulled into such an obvious trap. “The boy has a silver tongue, convincing enough that I believed there to be something of great importance to Titans here.” He snorted.

Osiris laughed. It was a light laugh, not as sharp and dark as it had been of late. “I’m having a hard time picturing that,” he shook his head, “That boy is clever but he is not, as you said, silver-tongued.”

“He must have practiced then,” he was stroking his chin in thought, keeping his eyes on Osiris who sat at an angle that kept them from looking at one another. Some of the lines that had developed over the last many months were fading, thinning. He’d been furrowing his brow less and he seemed, from the other Old Man’s voice, that he wasn’t clenching his jaw so much. “Ay, not that it matters. We are still stuck here, the two of us.” Tentatively, his left hand slid across the table top, closing enough distance that if Osiris put his hand on the table they could meet half-way.

Nodding, his husband added, “Yes, I suspect we have to bide ourtime before the “children” are content to let us out.”

“You don’t think they did this on purpose do you?”

“Absolutely. Nymue ambushed me the -,” he stopped, voice knotting in his throat and body going rigid. Saint had felt the change in him before the Warlock’s shoulders squared and he knotted his hands in his lap.

To hell with this. If they were stuck in here then he was going to make the best of it.

The Titan stood, pivoting around the table so he could stand before Osiris. His shadow loomed over him, even without the cut of his helmet’s fin, he could be more imposing than Shaxx, Zavala, and Saladin combined. Despite his kindness, Saint-14 had earned a reputation on the battlefield. Shaxx’s nervousness over a decades old glint-debt hadn’t been without cause. His hands came to rest on the feathered pauldrons of the Warlock. “I should have been there,” voice soft, “Perhaps Sagira would still be with us.”

“It’s not your fault,” he repeated the well-worn refrain, “If you had been there it was just as likely we would have lost them both,” he spoke of Geppetto. Swallowing he shifted anxiously, pulling down the scarf so his closely shaven silver-white beard was visible. Brown eyes flitting up to meet Saint’s luminescent ones, “I told you, I am not willing to let time take you again.”

Giving a shrug of a nod he continued, “Very well, but you do not need to be an island my love. Is that not what you said to me once?” His head tilted to the left as he studied the other man’s face, making one of a hundred-thousand mental imprints of him. The sag of his face as grief that had been left to marinate pulled his lips into a sharp frown and attempted to drag his whole head so that he wasn’t able to meet the Exo’s intense gaze.

Still rigid, Osis nodded. The tightness of his body found its way into his voice, “But what if I do? What if I already am?”

“Then I will be the sea that surrounds and defends you and you will not be alone,” the Titan countered. Brows raised as he shook his head with a loving smile. In the time before Sagira’s loss, it would have made him laugh and earned the Titan a kiss from his husband. The kind that would have had both their Ghosts teasing them in the way that only they could. This time, all he caught was the briefest smile. It quickly disappeared and, voice sad but still kind, he implored, “Osiris, please, look at me.”

The Warlock slowly tilted his head up so his eyes were no longer locked on Saint-14’s chest. As if the movement had been his cue, the Exo’s palms skated across his shoulders and up his neck until they cupped Osiris’ cheeks and lower jaw. “You are not alone. How many times must I remind you of that? Or that I will always support you hmm? No matter how much time we have, you taught me that my Phoenix. And together, there is no obstacle we cannot overcome.”

Voice cracking, the tears he’d held back finally spilling over, Osiris asked, “Even when time takes it’s payment and I…”

“Especially then,” Saint was kneeling now, no matter what anyone ever said he was graceful when he wanted to be. Wedging himself between his husband’s knees so their foreheads could rest against one another he continued, “You will not lose me to time and I will not let you seal yourself away for grief. Sagira would never forgive us.” His nose bumped Osiris’ affectionately. “Besides, we should take advantage of what time is given to us.” He smiled broadly when the other guardians’ hands came to rest over the backs of his own.

The tears trailed down Osiris’ cheeks. His smile shaking as he spoke, “Then we do that. I will endeavor to be as strong a support to you as you have always been to me.”

“You do that every day,” Saint pressed a kiss to his nose, “We do this together then, hmm?”

“Together, habibi.”

[martuzzio]

The hermits probably have game night as often as they can, with Tango and Zedaph making up games as to not have so much repetition. When Grian comes in and makes Tag, has the Civil war (ended with them finding post it notes and capturing them) and Demise (long, drawn out and over complicated pillow fight) Tango feels his self proclaimed position as the mini game king is threatened so he makes Decked out, a super complicated obstacle course among other things

Grian sees a lot of weird stuff as a hermit. Some is good, some is bad, and some is way too bizarre to form a final opinion. This monstrosity - this large, looming structure made of random materials that just barely fits into testing bay four - is definitely in the third category.

Grian doesn’t know how long he stands there and tries to process the structure before a soot-covered head pokes out of a window and grins down at him. Tango looks like he’s been using his hair to weld again. Grian feels his vestigial wings twitch and wonders if this would be a good time to run away.

“Hello, Grian.” Tango is using his monologue voice he saves for Convex generals after wiring their bases to explode. “I see you’re taken aback with awe at the splendor of my newest creation.” He makes a complex fluttering motion with a grease-blackened hand that causes Grian’s brain to short circuit.

“I, uh...” Grian trails off and peers down the bay to double check his eyes are working properly. The structure seems to go on forever and has many twists and turns. How did Tango get all of this junk in here? “Where did you get all of this material?” He asks. He then points at a striped hunk of military-grade plating. “Is that part of a ship’s hull?”

Tango makes a scoffing noise that reverberates off the nearby metal. “A master never reveals his secrets.”

Grian closes his eyes to reorient himself. He’ll ask one question to placate the demon, then leave. “Are you going to tell me what this is or leave me guessing?”

Tango scrunches his eyebrows together and looks off into the nonexistent middle distance. He holds the position a moment too long. “I can’t leave you guessing if you haven’t made any guesses yet.” He looks back down at Grian and flutters his fingers at him, flinging some specks of grease toward the ground in the process. “Make a guess!”

Grian sidesteps a blob of grease and says the first thing that comes to his mind. “A maze.”

Tango’s responding shriek makes Grian’s ears ring and causes his shoe to collide with the grease blob after all. “Wow, you’re good! Say more.” The demon implores as almost all of his torso hangs out of the window to leer down at Grian. “What will the maze do?”

“Uh,” Grian trails off, but then the chaotic side of his brain finally catches up and the abomination he’s looking at starts to make sense. “Is this a game? For the hermits? Where we... we come here and go through the maze and collect stuff, probably, and then we’ll compete with each other. And there will be stuff in the maze that makes it more difficult, and special loot, and-”

Grian’s jaw clicks shut when Tango finally gives up on clinging to the window frame and silently drops down to the hanger floor. He marches right up into Grian’s personal space and looms over him with a sharp glint in his eye. The heat of his body makes Grian twitch.

“I’m coming for your crown, jetpack man. Watch your back.” Tango whispers conspiratorially. With that, he pivots on one heel and scuttles back off into the hanger, soon to be swallowed up by the tangled array of material. His maniacal giggle grows impossibly loud as it rings off of the maze’s metal surfaces.

Grian stands frozen in time for a while longer before forcing himself out of the testing bay doors. Even though his knees feel weak, he stumbles forward to complete his new mission: alert Impulse and Stress that Tango needs an updated psych eval test.

Space outlaws lore can be seen here.

[summahsunlight]

Perhaps It’s Fate, Part 20

Rating: T, to be safe

Word Count: 1.8k+

Summary: After joining the Resistance as a mechanic, you were happy to keep to yourself, until a little orange and white bb unit and his master wander into your workshop one day.

Pairings: Poe Dameron x Mechanic!Reader

Start from the beginning! 

Taglist: @ms-dont-care​, @starless-eyes-remain​, @elmoakepoke​, @marvelobsessiononastick​, @kiaralein​, @softly-sad​, @totalpoedameron, @ordinarymom1​, @sevvysaurus​, @spider-starry​, @liadamerondjarin​, @jingyuhearteu​, @dream-alittlebiggerdarling​, @paintballkid711​

It’s here! The much anticipated next part! Hope you enjoy it. I’m excited for you to be able to read it🥰 Remember if you want to be added to the taglist, just let me know!

You had managed to disable the tracker. Poe had piloted the ship, using the phony code to land in the hanger of Snoke’s ship--and Finn had been able to secure you disguises and find your way to the control room where you worked your magic.

It was when you were making your way back to the ship that everything unraveled. Your team had been discovered; Captain Phasma and her troops were waiting in the hanger--and there was absolutely no where to go. 

Poe wanted to fight--of course he did, it was in his nature--but once a blaster was pointed at you he surrendered. 

Now you found yourself on your knees in front of Phasma. 

This is how your parents must have felt, you imagined, in their final moments before they were executed by the First Order. At least you’d been able to help the Resistance, at least you had been able to disable the tracker so they could escape.  But now you knew you were going to pay the price.

“Make it painful,” General Hux snarled before leaving.

“Only the most painful for rebel scum,” Phasma assured him.

Blinking back tears you glanced at Poe; he was looking at you with such regret in his chocolate brown eyes that it made your heart break. Somehow, you managed a weak smile to let him know that it was okay--that you didn’t blame him for anything.  He had believed in you so much, how could you? And for you, this was a much better option of dying together than having to live without him. 

Poe softly smiled back at you, the pain in his eyes so evident as he mouthed the words I love you. Oh how you wish you could respond, but there was a boot on your neck, pressing your head forward as the troopers prepared all three of you--Poe, Finn, yourself--for execution. Squeezing your eyes shut, you prayed that the end would come swiftly...

.....instead there was a loud explosion, you were thrown from underneath the boot on your neck clear across the hanger, the blast knocking you unconscious for a few moments. 

When you regained your senses, the hanger was on fire. Poe was leaning over you and talking to you, but you couldn’t hear him over the ringing in your ears. He suddenly pulled you into his arms and you realized he’d been asking if you were okay.  Amazingly, you were fine, other than a few cuts and bruises. 

“Sweetheart, can you stand? We need to get out of here.”

“Yes, Poe, I’m fine. Just some scrapes.”

Despite this statement from you, Poe still pulled you to your feet, carefully.  “I saw a shuttle still in tact; if we can get to that I can get us the hell out of here.”

Clinging to his hand, you nodded. “Where’s Finn? Is he okay?” you asked, anxiously, looking around the hanger.

There was no time to even search for Finn, the stormtroopers had emerged from the smoke and were firing at you and Poe. The two of you barely had enough time to duck behind some debris to block yourself from getting hit and you realized, with desperation, that they had cut your path off to the shuttle. If you and Poe were to move now in an attempt to get to the shuttle, you’d be shot dead before you even took three steps. 

Poe desperately tried to shield you, all the while trying to just as desperately come up with a plan on how to get the hell out of this situation. And then suddenly, there was BB-8, having hot-wired an ATST--clearing a path for them. 

You were too shocked to even move a muscle, watching that little droid blast troops. It was Poe that grabbed you by the arm and shouted, “Run!”

“But...but...BeeBee!”

“Don’t worry! He does stuff like this all the time!”

There were so many questions that you needed answers too, however, there wasn’t time at the moment.  Thanks to BB-8, you were able to stumble and fall your way onto the shuttle. Somewhere along the way the little droid had picked up Finn and the pair had also made it to the shuttle.

Finn looked anxious. “Can you fly us out of here?”

Poe threw him an incredulous look. “Can I fly us out of here? Of course I can!”

“Glad to see nearly dying toned down your cockiness,” Finn snapped.

“Actually dying is going to be the only thing to do that,” you tossed out.

“If the two of you are done--I’m about to save our asses,” Poe quipped.

Flickering your eyes towards Finn the pair of you made eye contract briefly while Poe piloted the shuttle out of the burning hanger. Immediately a pair of TIE-fighters were on your tail--admittedly none of you thought it was going to be easy to escape, even if Snoke’s ship was scattered in pieces around you. 

Holding your breath, you realized that Poe was pushing the shuttle hard and fast towards the surface of the planet. He was following the escape transports but even as he made his approach, he. saw that the blast door was about to closed. “Hold on!” he shouted. “This is gonna be tight!”

BB-8 let out an anxious trill as the shuttle dove underneath the closing door, shearing off the wings of the shuttle. Your closed your eyes tightly until the shuttle came to a groaning halt. 

“See. Told ya I could fly us out of there,” Poe said, laughing slightly.

“Yeah... barely,” Finn sniped. 

“Are you off Snoke’s ship or not?”

“We’re off but I wouldn’t call that a landing!”

Poe shrugged. “I’ve had worse, right Bee?”

BB-8 bleeped an affirmative.

Slowly you opened your eyes and glared at him. The amused look on his face didn’t last long as the surviving Resistance members opened fire on the shuttle. The three of you, along with BB-8, ducked for cover, while Poe screamed, “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! It’s us!”

Carefully, each one of you raised yourself up so the Resistance fighters could see it was indeed your tiny group. 

“Finn? Poe? Y/N? You’re alive!” Rose gasped.

“Yeah!” Finn yelled back. “Although Poe tried to kill us!”

“Hey!” Poe protested, glaring at him.

All you could focus on was the small group of fighters left; you’d failed after all.  The tracker had not been disabled in time for anyone to get away before they had to abandon ship and take refuge in this old Rebel base. Your one chance to prove you belonged here--and you’d blown it.

------

Poe had actually lost track of you once you had left the shuttle. He’d immediately been swept up in preparations that the First Order was going to land ground forces and attempt to flush them out  After it became obvious that they were tucking their tails, licking their wounds, and heading back to their space--that was when Poe noticed you were missing.

He found you, huddled behind one of those ancient, decaying. speeders--which between the two of you, he was happy he did not need to fly. Poe squeezed in next to you. “Hey. There you are. I’ve been looking for you for over an hour. Why are you hiding back here?”

“I failed,” you mumbled, tears slipping out of your eyes.

“What do you mean you failed? You disabled the tracker,” Poe countered.

“Not in time.”

Gently, Poe pulled you close to him. “Sweetheart, most of the fleet got away--the decision to destroy the Raddus was made so the others could flee--just incase the tracker wasn’t disabled. You’d disappeared before Leia could explain to us what happened.”

Wiping the tears from your eyes, you shook your head. “If I had disabled it faster than the Raddus would have gotten away too.”

“They didn’t want to leave us behind,” Poe said, softly.

“What?” you rasped, raising your eyes to look at him.

“Leia didn’t want to leave us behind.”

“We knew it was a suicide mission when we took it.”

Poe quietly stroked your hair; yes they had all known that the mission was probably going to end up in their deaths--it almost had--but none of them had voiced that sentiment out loud--until now. His lips brushed against your temple so softly it was like a breeze tickling your skin. “Your parents would be proud of you.”

You wished you felt as confident as he did about that but the truth was you didn’t. How would your parents feel knowing that you couldn’t control your panic attacks? That you had such severe anxiety that you often hid away from others to tinkering in your workshop? “They wouldn’t be proud of a coward.”

“Stop!” his voice was so firm, angry, that it startled you. “Stop right now,” Poe growled, low in his throat. He grabbed you by the shoulders and forced you to face him. “You are not a coward. You marched onto that ship and disabled something that none of us knew how to disable. A coward would not have done that; your anxiety, your panic attacks, they do not define you. So stop talking like this.”

“I can’t stop feeling this way! It’s not easy!” you sobbed, wanting to run away from him, but he would not let you go. “Do you think I want to feel this way? I can’t control it, Poe. Somedays, I feel like I’m drowning, that I can’t breathe!”

“So do I!”

“You?”

Poe swallowed, nervously, and nodded. “Ever since I escaped Jakku and made it back to the Resistance--I’ve felt an increasing dread, pressure--fear of failure, Y/N. When Kylo Ren tore through my mind, my memories, he saw the most vulnerable side of me and it haunts me, sweetheart, that I couldn’t protect you from his mind probes! That he saw what you meant to me, and that by him seeing this, it puts you in danger!”

Seeing the fear in his eyes, you sucked in a shuddering breath. “You don’t have to protect me, Poe.”

He wiped your tears away and then you were pressed, tightly against him. “I love you,” he whispered, “I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you. Never.”

You wrapped your arms around him and buried your face against his chest. If you could have, you have stayed in his arms like this for the rest of the day, but as life had it--someone was looking for him. Poe kissed the top of your head and whispering an, “I love you,” he stood up and left you sitting there, giving you complete control of when you wanted to leave your safe spot.

“Did you find her?” Finn’s voice carried across the room.

“Not yet; she’s damn good at hiding,” Poe replied. “Don’t worry, she’ll show up when she’s ready to come out of hiding--or BeeBee will track her down, and then coax her to come out.  She can’t say no to him.”

“Okay, but we better find her soon,” Finn said. “Someone responded to the General’s distress call for emergency evacuation transport. We’ll be leaving soon as they get here.”

[mylifeisactuallyamess]

So I got a new book today Star Wars related of course! And I was super excited and inspired me to write this quickly as I cooked dinner.

Are you a mechanic?

Poe Dameron x Female Reader

No warnings! Unless Poe being put in his place is a warning 🤣

You were new to the Resistance, you had been recruited when a group of pilots had rocked up at the bar on your home planet. You noticed one of the ships needed a repair and you asked if they’d let you do it, the pilot Snap had been so impressed with your fix he immediately asked you to join and you accepted. There was nothing for you here on your planet, you had lost much to the First Order your family.....were gone. This was the best thing you could of think of doing.

The hanger rang out with engine noises and people calling out to each other as you tied the arms of your overalls tightly across your stomach, the smell of the burning fuel permeated your nostrils and you breathed it in deeply. This is what you had been missing, you’d been a mechanic all your life working on every machine you could get your hands on but when your husband and children had been killed in a First Order raid you had stopped. Stopped living and just existed. Your life had ended that day, or so you thought because now you were here, your mind already working over time. There was a shout and an explosion from over by a black and orange X-wing, this one was different to the others, definitely a one of a kind. You ran towards it grabbing the fire extinguisher on the way as you saw the grey smoke billow out from the fusion and ionisation chamber, if it didn’t get put out soon it could damage the life support and the hyperdrive and you’d rather not fix all those in one go, not on your first day.

‘BB8 get out of there!’ The pilot, you assumed him to be the pilot but his bright orange flight suit was standing at the top of the ladder coughing at the smoke that wafted into his face. You raced up the ladder and deftly manoeuvred around him so you were standing in the cockpit. ‘Hey what are you....’ you cut him off by spraying the extinguisher full blast at the fire. The little white and orange droid made an alarmed beeping noise as you leaned over him to make sure the fire was out. It had been small but it could have done some serious damage.

‘What are you doing taking this panel off?’ You demanded loudly causing some people to turn at the sound of your tone. The man stood there his eyes flashed as he crossed his arms. ‘Are you actually a mechanic or are you plain stupid?’

‘Listen sweetheart, this is my ship...’

‘Are you a mechanic?’ You demanded again flinching at the heat on the durasteel as you stuck your hand in the hole trying to see if all the components were still intact or if they were damaged.

‘I do most of my own repairs...’ you cut across him again frustration lacing your tone as you reached further down, the poor droid out his moveable head back as far as possible to allow you room.

‘So you’re not. You’re just pretending.’ His expression darkened as he unfolded his arms.

‘Leave you to it then shall I? Come on BB8 she clearly doesn’t need any help.’ You sighed loudly, you’d been a bit abrupt but this could have been serious, the entire ship could have gone up and it was such a beautiful T-70 it would have been a waste. As you felt around you noticed the chamber was still intact, no holes or bulges so all was good. You moved on to check the life support, stupid man wanted to breathe in space right? And then you checked the hyperdrive, some wiring could do with being replaced but this looked good otherwise. You eased yourself back into the cockpit and you saw Snap talking to the pilot you’d just shouted at, you waved and he waved cheerily back. You wiped your hands on your overalls before slipping down the ladder.

‘I see you’ve been here half a day and you’ve already upset the golden boy of the Resistance.’ You looked round Snap to look at the other pilot.

‘Him? He’s a better pilot than you?’ Snap laughed and put a hand on your shoulder.

‘As much as I hate to admit it yes he is. One of the best. Poe would do anything for anyone he was just trying to help out as we’ve been so short on mechanics recently.’

‘I was a bit harsh,’ you agreed. ‘Just that could have been really serious. I should rewire some of it anyway, not my favourite job but I can do it.’ Snap grinned again.

‘I’ll tell him the best mechanic in the Resistance is working on his ship.’

‘You do that!’

You shivered slightly as the cool air whispered over your shoulders, you looked up surprised at how dark it had got no wonder you were struggling to see the small wires. Suddenly light flooded the cockpit you were slumped in and you shielded your eyes, someone had wheeled over and switched on a large light directly over you. Footsteps rung out on the ladder and you assumed it was Snap, so you weren’t prepared when Poe appeared next to the cockpit.

‘I put the light on for you.’ You were too stunned to say anything, part of you wanted to apologise for earlier but part of you wanted to still lecture him. ‘Alright, no need to say thanks or anything.’ He went to head back down but you stopped him.

‘I’m sorry, I’ve been staring at these wires for hours I think I’ve forgotten how to interact.’ His deep brown eyes studied you for a second before breaking out into a lop sided grin.

‘Busy keeping this the best ship in the fleet for me?’ You made a face as you looked back at the wires.

‘There’s a question, is it the pilot that makes the ship or the ship that makes the pilot the best in the Resistance?’

‘You think I’m the best?’ The cockiness in his tone had you rolling your eyes. You’d been here a day, the droid could be the best pilot for all you knew.

‘I wouldn’t know flyboy, I’m new.’

‘I didn’t think I’d seen you before. Or been spoken to like that before.’

‘Yeah sorry about that.’ He shrugged his eyes dancing with unspoken mischief.

‘Get out of that cockpit and you can make it up me properly.’ Your head snapped up and he smirked at the look on your face.

‘I meant with a drink sweetheart,’ he went down a couple of steps before looking back at you. ‘Comin’?’ You grinned.

‘Yeah alright I’m coming.’

[yelena-bellova]

I Love Y-

requested by @romnogrs from the kiss prompt list 😘

Summary: Y/n is visited in the hanger late one night by Poe.

Warnings: mentions of torture, fluff that quickly turns steamy 🔥

A/N: Basically it’s another night where I’m thirsty over Poe Dameron but what else is new?

—————

61: Hands On The Other Person’s Back, Fingertips Pressing Under Their Top, Drawing Gentle Circles Against That Small Strip Of Bare Skin That Make Them Break The Kiss With A Gasp

—————

Contrary to most of fellow mechanics, I loved working late nights.

The hanger was totally empty except for me contently tinkering away at an X-Wing. I was finishing up replacing one of the cannons that had been completely fried in a recent battle. I’d also replaced a piece of the weapons system while yesterday I’d replaced two of the other cannons. It had taken a beating, it was a miracle that the pilot who flew it had made it out alive. But cheating death was nothing new to-

“Had a feeling I’d find you here.”

I peeked out from behind the wing of the ship to see a pajama clad Poe Dameron walking towards me. He wore a grin on his face that was a little too dazzling for it being so late.

“So you were looking for me?” I said with a small smirk.

“Well,” he ran a hand through his messy head of curls, “I wasn’t not looking for you.”

I chuckled as I did a final check to confirm I’d wired everything correctly. Poe would have to go for a test run in the morning to make sure it worked properly.

“Have I ever mentioned how amazing you are?” Poe said sweetly as I watched him run a hand along his prized ship.

“Only every time you see me repairing this thing,” I shut the panel and began climbing down the ladder I was standing on.

“And I mean it every time,” he replied as he came to stand below me. Once I’d reached the last few steps, he grabbed me by the hips and lifted me down. I let out a squeal that elicited a loud laugh from him as he set me down in front of him.

“Wanna tell me why you’re up so late?” I suggested, grabbing my rag out of my toolbox and wiping my grease stained hands off.

“Just couldn’t get comfortable, I’m not that tired.”

I looked up to him, watching him avoid eye contact with me like his life depended on it. A benefit to being his best friend was the ability to see through the rare lies he told when he was embarrassed about something.


“I’m calling bullshit,” I said, “I’ve seen you fall asleep on a stool in the command center during a debrief, you can get comfortable anywhere. Plus you were whining tonight at dinner about how tired you were.”

He ran a finger across my ladder, still looking anywhere but at me.

“Poe,” I walked over to him and put a hand on his arm, “Did it happen again?”

He sighed and gave me a sad nod, looking down at his feet. I waited for him to inevitably recount what had happened in his nightmare,

“I was back there, and he came in and…he went into my mind again,” he mumbled, “He saw you and said he was going to kill you.”

He was talking about Ren, referring to a few months ago when he’d been captured and the Sith had tortured him. It had taken a toll on Poe but eventually the dreams lessened to only every few weeks. However this was the first time he’d ever mentioned that I’d been a part of one.

“Poe, look at me,” I tilted his head up with my finger and caught his eye, “You’re safe. I’m safe. Ren can’t hurt either of us.”

“I know,” he moaned as he rubbed his face with both hands, “It just felt so real and I got so freaked out, I had to see you. You probably think I’m pathetic.”

“What?” I breathed as I peeled his hands from his eyes, “Poe, the last thing you are to me is pathetic. You’re the bravest person I know and I’m not kissing your ass when I say that.”

He chortled at my comment, his eyes lighting up just the slightest bit.

“What you went through was horrible and if I could, I’d bear all the pain of reliving it for you. But you came back and you haven’t let it slow you down, you’ve kept fighting. You’re way stronger than you give yourself credit for, it’s one of the reasons I love y-“

I swallowed my words, but not fast enough. Poe’s head shot up and he raised his eyebrows.

“You what?”

“Nothing, I nothing,” I said immediately.

“No, you were about to say that you-“

“No, I wasn’t,” I let go of his hands quickly, “You misheard, you’re tired.”

Panicked, I turned to collect my toolbox and go but Poe’s grip stopped me. He grabbed my wrist and guided me backwards until my back hit the side of his X-Wing. For the second time of the night, his hands found my hips easily and held me in place. I suddenly wish that I was a stronger woman, his dark chocolate eyes were staring so intensely into me, my brain was short circuiting. Our mouths were close enough that it would only take one brave move and they’d meet.

“Y/n…” he said, his voice gravelly, “Tell me the truth.”

My jaw fell agape as I tried to make something, anything come out. I could either dig myself into a hole further or admit and probably lose Poe from my life.

I took a shaky breath, “I love y-“

Before I could finish, he dove in and captured my lips in the sweetest kiss I’d ever had. My shock lasted only a few seconds before I sunk into the blissful sensation. My hands came to grip the sides of his neck, pulling him deeper into my mouth. His tongue slipped between my lips and began swirling with my own, causing a soft moan to escape both of us. I felt his hand slide to my back pressing the two of us impossibly close. His nimble fingers sneakily made their way under my tank top to begin tracing circles across my lower back. I gasped at the feeling, causing the kiss to be broken only briefly. Poe chuckled proudly at my reaction before my hands slid into his hair and tugged him back down to my lips. His fingers pressed deeper into my bare skin, it was a good thing I was pressed against the ship or else my legs definitely would have given out.

I broke away hesitantly, only because my lungs needed air desperately. My eyes fluttered open, admiring the mess I’d made of Poe’s curls and how out of breath he was.

“You were saying?” he panted with a wicked smile.

“I was saying you’re a smug, cocky bastard,” I retorted, before pressing a soft kiss to the side of his mouth, “Whom I love very much.”

“If you didn’t figure it out already,” he whispered, “I kinda love you too.”

I bit down on my bottom lip and grinned, sliding my hands down to his shoulders and enjoying the electric feeling between the two of us.

“Guess something good finally came from those nightmares,” he remarked as he squeezed my hips.

I hummed in agreement before slipping my hands into the sleeves of his shirt to run over his toned arms, “Now are you gonna take me back to your room and finish what you started?”

His eyes blackened with desire just before he threw me over his shoulder, causing me to shriek in surprise.


“I thought you were tired,” I quipped as he walked us out of the hanger and through the emptied halls of the base.

“What can I say, sweetheart,” he replied cheekily, “You woke me up.”

———

Star Wars Permanent Taglist: @paintballkid711 @katrynec @caswinchester2000 @theliterarymess

[luminouspoes]

buy me a drink

warnings: n/a (no pronouns used)

a/n: a very warm happy birthday to the absolutely wonderful, hilarious and sweet @brothersdrxke​! i hope your birthday is full of your favorite things <3

“You know,” Poe says, wiping his hands clean on a grease towel, smug grin on his lips as he leans back against a trolley (it slides backward against his weight and his smile fades into a brief look of panic before he regains his balance), “you could always just ask them out.”

Jess's head pops out from under her X-Wing. Wires are strewn all around her, her hair is mussed from the humidity and the work, and there's a streak of grease on her cheek. She shoots Poe a withering glare, brandishing a spanner like a weapon, “Don't push it, Poe.”

She turns back around to continue her modifications on the X-Wing, and she can hear Poe moving closer to her. When Jess finally sighs to turn around to tell him to drop it, he's leaning against the hull with a gentle expression on his face that makes her falter. “C'mon kid, what's stopping you? They like you too, we can all see it and it's not like Black Squadron has any rules against dating. Hell, two of our pilots are married. Talk to me, Jess.”

It's the same tone he uses when he's gently trying to get her to open up about the nightmares, the same intense focus he has when Jess rambles about the specs on different ships, and she knows Poe isn't gonna let her drop this. He wants to see his friend happy, and he wants to know why she won't let herself.

“Because it's scary,” Jess murmurs, fiddling with a loose wire for something to do. “Because it's something I can't control. Karé and Snap have something great but...I carry a lot with me, I'm difficult to deal with, and I am 'the Great Destroyer,’” she mimes the air quotes. “They deserve somebody...more.”

Poe hums, looks across the hanger, then back at Jess. “You know in my experience, love isn't just what you think someone deserves. Sometimes it's just what two people want, working hard to build something together and making it work. Like your ships.”

Jess looks up at him with a frown, “Are you comparing my love life to my ships?"

Poe shrugs, “Did the comparison work?"

Maker, she hates him. “Yes,” she sighs, stepping out from under the X-Wing. 

“You gonna go ask them out?” Poe asks, sounding hopeful as Jess starts cleaning up. 

“Well, I mean…what have I got to lose?” Jess shrugs, but her chest is tight with the thought they might say no. 

“That's...okay, we'll work on the optimism later.” Poe says, leaning to press a quick kiss to the side of her head. “Go get ‘em, Testor.”

*

You're still in command when Jess finds you. It's been a long day of slicing and decoding intelligence that Black Squadron obtained in their last mission, hoping to find something that the General could present to the Senate as duracrete evidence that the First Order is a sincere and scary threat.

So far what you've found is intelligence useful to the Resistance, but not so much getting the rest of the Galaxy to understand it.

“Hey,” you greet when you notice Jess hanging in the doorway. You lean back in your seat, relieved for the company and a chance to take a break from reading code - and it doesn't hurt that it's Jess, you've been harboring a crush on her for months. “You gonna stand out there all night or…?”

“Right,” Jess says and her voice sounds a little funny as she enters command. She comes up behind your seat and motions at your screen. “Find anything good?”

“Supreme Leader Snoke's shopping list,” you joke wryly and Jess huffs out a surprised laugh. You grin, because she's adorable when she laughs, and it's not a sight seen often on D'Qar. 

“So, uh -” Jess won't meet your eye and she's tapping the back of your seat nervously. “Whenever you're not busy cracking open First Order secrets, would you like to...get a drink sometime?”

You freeze in your seat, slowly swivel the chair around to stare up at Jess in surprise. “Are you -” your voice comes out high, so you try again. “Are you asking me out on a date?"

Jess shoves her hands into her pockets. “Maybe. Yes. Would that be something you're into?”

You grin. “That would very much be something I'm into.” 

And there it is, that smile again. Your heart somersaults, seizes, and the galaxy seems so much brighter than it was a minute ago.

“Great,” Jess says warmly. She motions at the screen, “when can you -”

“They can right now,” Kaydel says suddenly, launching from her own post, practically shoving you out of your chair. “I'll look over this while you're gone.”

You don't even protest - Kaydel is as good at you at slicing, and there's nothing you want more than to get a drink with Jess right now. You stand up, breathless with excitement, “Alright, Pava, buy me a drink.”

The next morning when Jess enters the hanger with you at her side, hands intertwined, Karé and Snap trade credits, and Poe positively beams. 

[hippogriffs-and-alicorns]

Disclaimer how ever! I haven't finished the movie (kid I'm babysitting wants to finish it with me) so a quick recap will be needed -HB

IFJSOIJOFD Like.....I don't entirely wish to spoil it for u if u haven't finished it but, if u want a recap here u go! It won't be quick tho....there's too much to skip lol. The three pony races are separate again, Twilight and her friends assumingly passed away along time ago, and as things typically go, thoughts and beliefs changed, and they split up. Each race filled the new generations with propaganda about the others, Earth ponies saying Pegasi would snatch you from the air, Unicorns would fry your brains. Unicorns (and pegasi apparently) said Earth Ponies were dumb and smelled terrible, as well as the Unicorns calling pegasi brutes. Sunny's dad was big into history, raised her on the concept of the three pony races being unified. He studied Twilight's time and seemed to be quite fascinated with her specifically (this paired with his appearance is why I think they're related), and constantly gave Sunny hope about a brighter future when things could be like ancient Equestria once more. She writes a letter with her dad, telling the unicorns and pegasi to come to their town, and they send it off on a lantern. Fast forward, she's an adult now, her dad's gone (wtf hasbro, i loved him), and her best friend Hitch is now the sheriff. Sprout is also there, he's Hitch's deputy, and his mom runs a company that basically makes money off of the fear of the other two races, making products to "protect them" from Unicorns and Pegasi. Sunny sneaks in to stop this, makes a bit of a fool of herself, and Hitch tells her she needs to just...go home. She's about too, but a unicorn walks into town, enter Izzy! Izzy completely seems to ignore the fact all the Earth Ponies fear her until Sunny points it out. She gets caught in a unicorn trap, but Sunny goes against Hitch's orders and frees her. They go back to Sunny's house, then end up running off, in which Izzy informs Sunny that unicorns lost their magic a long time ago. They set off on a journey to the pegasus city, and Hitch goes after them, leaving Sprout in charge (uh-oh). They meet a pegasus named Zipp, after Izzy tells Sunny about something called "luminescence", which is a pony's sparkle, the happier they are the brighter it shines, and apparently only unicorns can see it? Anyways, Zipp has to disappear, and the pair get caught by two pegasus guards, who take them back to the queen. We get a view of the city, find out Princess Pipp is also a social media star, and we also find out that Zipp is Pipp's twin sister (They never said twins in the movie but I think Zipp's wiki mentioned that she's the older twin), and Queen Haven is not too pleased with the fact that a unicorn and Earth pony are in her castle. The three royals also flew in, while Sunny notes that they haven't seen any other pegasi flying. They get sent to "the dungeon", which is just a spa with prison bars. Zipp comes to see them, and Pipp comes by too. When Sunny inquires about the flying, Pipp tells them that only the royals know how to fly. Pipp leaves, Zipp ends up freeing them and shows them an old hanger. She lets them in on the secret that the royals can't fly either, and it's probably linked to their loss of magic. She also shows them a mural in the hangar, broken glass depicting Twilight's cutiemark, a pegasus on the right, and a unicorn on the left. The pegasus is reaching to a crystal, which Zipp says is the pegasus crystal, part of her mom's crown. They also discover there's a unicorn one, and Sunny figures that if they reunite the two crystals, they can bring magic back. They plan out a heist, making a fake crown to swap the real one with while the queen is busy watching Zipp's performance. However, two of them spook a director who's controlling the wires making Pipp "fly", Sunny discovers Hitch followed them, and through panic, they drop the crystal, and Pipp is left hanging, as the pegasi find out that their royalty have been lying to them. The queen ends up arrested, Hitch follows the trio, and just as they're panicking over the lost crystal, Pipp shows up with it, and has a bit of a

dispute with her sister. They go off travelling together, later that night they sit around a campfire, banter, grow closer, and Izzy reveals she came to Maretime bay (Sunny's home) because she found a letter saying she had friends there, and Sunny realizes that SHE sent that letter. The next morning, group sets off to the forest that the unicorns live in, Izzy shows them her house and gives them unicorn disguises, then they go out into the town, and discover that all the other unicorns are super depressed because of the loss of magic. They also find out unicorns are superstitious, and there are certain forbidden words that make them do a silly little ritual because they think they'll get jinxed. They go into a tea shop, and catch eye of Alphabittle, an older bartender unicorn, who seems to enjoy making bets, winning games, and taking whatever the other unicorn bets. Sunny sees the unicorn crystal behind him, and challenges him for it, offering the pegasus crystal as her end of the offer. They engage in some intense pony DDR, and Sunny wins! But then her fake horn falls off, Alphabittle tries to take the crystals, then Hitch shouts out ALL the forbidden words, causing the unicorns to do the ritual and allow them to escape. They end up bumping into Queen haven, guards chasing after her, Alphabittle and some other unicorns appear, and Sunny convinces them to let her put the crystals together so they can bring magic back. But....it doesn't work. Sunny is disappointed as HELL and leaves with Hitch, but when she gets home, she finds out that there's a third crystal, one that her father put in a little nightlight he made, that displays little light sillhoutes of the three races. As she goes to inform Hitch, they find out Sprout has become A FUCKING DICTATOR, and essentially declaring war, wrapping all of Maretime bay into it. The duo go to warn the others, but surprise! The others came back to Sunny, and their respective groups are chasing after them begging them to come home. Sprout drives his war machine and his army to try and take out the pegasi, but when Sunny runs off to return magic, Sprout turns course to her lighthouse, Zipp and Hitch take on the robot with the others, leaving Sunny and Izzy to try and fix things. They get the crystals together....but it still doesn't work. The lighthouse comes crashing down, but Sprout's mom managed to stop him from killing anyone in the process, and Sunny is just pretty upset still- But then she realizes that it wasn't the crystals...it was the ponies, they had to be together for magic to exist, the crystals were just a small part of that. When this revelation happens though, the crystals rise from the wreckage, glowing, lifting Sunny into the air, and she's adorned with wings and a horn, but translucent and glowing gold rather than magic her fur. Magic is returned, the unicorn's horns work again, pegasi can fly again, and the three races decide to come back together.

[slowly-writing]

Ulterior Motives

Steve Rogers x Kid!Reader

Word count: 1795

Requested by: @kye06

a/n: Trigger warnings for childhood Neglect and overall shitty parenting

You don’t remember very much before you started living with your dad. You had a few flashes here and there, mainly of what you thought was doctors offices though you know knew must’ve been labs of somesort. Then when you were around 4 years old you found yourself on the Avengers doorstep with a note that you couldn’t read at the time. Little did you know it was a letter, telling the heros who you were, and more importantly, who your father was.  That was over 12 years ago, and somehow your life still hadn’t gotten any easier.

You were Steve Roger’s daughter, or at least that’s what you were told. You could tell nobody believed it, and that made you doubt the truth as well. He believed you at first, but as you grew you were constantly sick, which got in the way of any training that could prove your claims. Not that they really tried to train you after the first few weeks. You didn’t seem like anything special, so they decided you probably weren’t.

You did your own training in the safety of your bedroom, that where you spent most of your time anyway. They didn’t acknowledge your existence very much, and you pretended it didn’t hurt. None of them knew how to handle children, that was all. You made it work. You didn’t ask for help with your homework, you kept your grades up. When you got sick you made your own way to the medical wing and got the help you needed yourself. You found a way to raise yourself, and you pretended to be okay with it.

You tried not to show how much everyone’s attitude affected you. It’s not like they really knew you anyways, so who cared what they thought. The whispers going on behind your back of what your real agenda was hurt, but you could take it. You’re heading towards the kitchen to get breakfast when you hear more of the whispering that never seems to stop.

“She can’t really be his kid, she’s nothing like him!” you hear Tony say and you sigh.

“The odds are highly unlikely,” Bruce responds softly, “you know all this could be solved with a simple paternity test, Steve.”

“No.” You hear your dad’s voice, “I don’t think I’d be able to look her in the eye if it came back negative.”

That’s all you needed to hear. You turn around and grab your backpack from your room, none of them would notice if you left for school a little early. You’d be surprised if they even knew what grade you were in.

xxxxx

You had just got home from school when you noticed the tower was empty. You walked through the halls, looking into some of the rooms before wandering back to your own. You saw a note on your pillow and picked it up curiously.

Hey y/n,

We all had to head out on a mission. We should be back in a few days. There’s food in the fridge, so you should be okay here. You won’t be able to reach us but I put a number at the bottom of the page if something goes wrong. It is for emergencies only, y/n. Stay safe, kid.

-Clint

You smiled a bit at that. Clint was always the nicest to you growing up, he had a very fatherly vibe. He was gone a lot though, disappearing for weeks at a time, so you didn’t get to spend much time with him.

You set the note on your dresser before sitting down to do homework. You’d been working for about an hour when you heard some noises in the kitchen. You slowly make your way over, hearing a robotic voice murmuring to itself. You think JARVIS must be malfunctioning until you turn the corner and see a tattered version of what looks like an iron man suit stumbling around. Before you can react it turns to you.

“Ah, the littlest Rogers. What an honor,” it says and you feel a chill run down your spine, “you wouldn’t know where I could find your father, would you?”

“H-he’s not here,” you stutter out, not quite sure how to react to this particular situation.

“Well I know that. I am looking for a clue as to where he could’ve gone, certainly you must know something,” the machine says and you roll your eyes.

“You’ve come to the wrong place, buddy. I’m the last person they’d tell.”

“Ah, I remember now. The forgotten daughter. Well, I guess we could find out how much he really cares, though you won’t be around to see it,” the machine says, and with that it charges you.

You send a kick to it’s chest area as it approaches, sending it stumbling off course. You’re in over your head as the fight ensues. You can’t spar yourself, so you have very little combat knowledge. Adding that to the fact that you’re fighting a robot that you can’t knock out, you’re fighting a losing battle. You take more hits than you ever have, but eventually the machine takes off through the window, sending shattered glass flying at you. You wipe the blood from your face as well as you can. Holding your ribs, which you’re pretty sure were broken, you stumble towards your room and grab the note Clint left. You wait impatiently as it rings, praying whatever that thing was doesn’t come back.

“Fury, we’ve got a problem,” you say as soon as the line connects.

“This isn’t Fury. My name’s Laura,” a female voice responds, throwing you off. You can’t think of who else Clint could’ve left you a number for.

“Oh, um I’m sorry. Clint left me this number...I just assumed…” you trail off.

“Clint gave you this number? What’s your name?” you hesitate for a second, but you trust Clint. If he trusts this woman then that’s good enough for you.

“I’m y/n, I live in the tower with him.”

“Y/n, as in Rogers?” she asks and you frown.

“Uh, yeah, that’s me,” you say, you don’t enjoy advertising your last name.

You hear a commotion on the other end of the line before the phone is handed off, “Y/n, what’s wrong?”

“Clint, some...thing just attacked the tower. This robot thing looking for Steve. I fought it off, but I’m afraid it could come back,” you explain frantically, every second that ticks by your nerves are growing, you know you can’t handle another round right now.

“Y/n, listen to me. You need to get out of there right now. Get to the hanger, I’m sending coordinates to the jet.” You hear the woman, Laura, in the background as you start making your way through the tower. “Ultron attacked the tower, I’m getting her here.”

“Clint, what’s happening?” you ask, almost to the jet.

“I’ll explain when you get here, you’ll be okay, y/n.” With that the line cuts off and you pray he’s right.

xxxxx

By the time you touch down you’re already starting to feel better, physically at least. Mentally, you’re more confused than you’ve ever been. You make your way towards the house, you didn’t expect a safe house to look so lived in, but then again you’ve never seen one before.

“Hello?” you ask, knocking on the door.

“Hey, come on in,” the woman from the phone says and you nod slowly. You’re not sure what you’re expecting but it certainly isn’t the entire team to be sitting in the living room, looking very out of place.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?” Steve says and you flinch slightly.

“Hey, calm down. She needed help,” Clint says, walking over towards you and you take comfort in his presence.

“We’re not really in a position to be helping people right now, Clint. In case you haven’t noticed we just had our asses handed to us by Ultron!” Tony yells and you look at Clint.

“Is that what he’s called? The robot guy?” you ask softly and suddenly all eyes are on you.

“You’ve seen him?” Banner asks and you glare.

“Yeah. I’ve seen him. I’m sure you wouldn’t have noticed, but I didn’t have a black eye or broken ribs when you left the tower,” you yell and they all look confused.

“He attacked you? How’d you get away?” Steve asks and you shrug.

“He took off. There’s still some spare wiring and a broken window in the kitchen in case you don’t believe me.”

“You fought him off?” He asks and you nod.

“As well as I could, I don’t really have any combat training. I did what I could, I’m stronger than you all give me credit for. I told you I’m your kid,” you say, refusing to make eye contact.

“That’s not proven,” Tony says and you snap.

“Then just do a damn DNA test already! Or kick me out so I can live anywhere else! I was four when I moved in. I know none of you have any idea how kids work, but a four year old doesn’t have any ulterior motives. I’m not here to take you down from within, I’m here because I have nowhere else to go. Believe me, if I did I would’ve been gone years ago.”

“Y/n, I’m sorry I-” your father starts but you cut him off.

“No. You don’t get to apologize now. I hear how you talk about me. How you all talk about me! Like I’m the enemy, like I’m some ploy to get you to let your guard down. I’m a sixteen year old kid. I’m a junior in high school, though I’m sure you’ve all forgotten that. I don’t know why I get sick when you can’t, or why I’m not as tall as you are. I don’t know any of that because you guys are the geniuses here. You’re the adults, and if you want those answers, by all means go get them. I’d love to know too, but quit taking it all out on me. None of this is my fault!” You yell and the room falls silent.

“You’re right. None of this has been fair to you,” Steve says and you glare.

“Understatement of the damn century,” you grumble and he nods.

“It is. And when this is all over, we’ll be better. We will treat you like you deserve to be treated and we’ll find you those answers, but for now we need to get rid of Ultron, and it looks like we could use your help.”

“Thank you,” you say softly and he shakes his head.

“You don’t have to thank me, it’s how this should've been from the beginning.”

Tag list:  @rvgrsbrns @marvelsdc22

[unstoppableforcce]

a mistake ( 1 )

pairing: poe Dameron x reader

next part

a/n: so maybe you read it when I first wrote it years ago, maybe you found it on my masterlist and read it recently, maybe you’ve never read it. I rewrote it! And it’ll be different now! It’ll be better! or at least, I plan for it to be!

It was early.

The kind of early that symbolized the end of a night and not the beginning of the next day, the exhaustion of a heavy working day pulling at your muscles as you rolled from the bed. The sheet draped around you tugged and nearly fell as you tugged back on it, forcing the curly haired pilot to groan and move to allow you to take it.

“God, I’m never going to get tired of that.” The words drew from his lips in a wispy sigh as he watched you bend over for your strewn clothes.

“Get over yourself.”

“I’d rather get over you.”

If your eyes could roll any further back, you would have let them as you slipped your underwear back on, then your shirt.

“You’ve already done that.” You reminded, sparing him a glance back as you moved to his small fridge, grabbing a water.

He propped himself up against his headboard, both hands lazily finding themselves behind his head as his gaze followed you. Even when you turned back to see him, he didn’t bother pretending he wasn’t staring, tracing along the intricacies of your half-covered form with his lazy eyes.

When you finally walked back over, perching yourself on the edge of the bed to gather your discarded pants and boots, he crawled over and pulled the water from your hand, taking a brief sip before offering back but you only shook your head.

“You’re unbelievable.” You swore with a shake of your head, leaning back and boosting your hips to get your pants the rest of the way up.

He scooted even closer as you sat back up, the temperature of your back skyrocketing as he pressed his bare chest closer. His fingers ventured out in a slow creep around your waist while his nose nudged its way into your neck, hot breaths igniting your skin from shoulder to chin.

“I’d love to give you more reasons to say that.” He mumbled into your skin, sucking sweet marks wherever he had access to.

You tried to shoo him away, but he persisted, his kisses becoming more and more urgent as he trailed his way to your chin, brushing the occasional hair out of the way for more access as his hands continued to traverse beneath your shirt.

“You’ll leave a mark—Poe—” A brief moan caught in your throat, but a heavier thought at the back of your skull didn’t let the pleasure linger for too long. He was going to leave a mark, he was trying to leave a mark.

Before he could get any further, you reached a hand up and pushed his face away, “Ow—”

He fell back, wiping off his lips and huffing out a breath. “Sorry...”

You ignored him, you had to. With your pants on, you slipped your feet into each boot and stood, adjusting the shirt he displaced until it seemed moderately presentable.

“You can stay, you know.” He blew out half-heartedly, the same plea he made every night for the past week it seemed.

“I can’t.”

He shook his head, propped back on the pillows as you gathered up the last of your things and moved for the door, “No one cares.”

“I care.”

The door slammed shut behind you and he rolled back into the pillow that still maintained a faint smell of you.

--

It was early when he found you again, a real kind of early. Unable to sleep, the second the suns rose above the horizon and drowned his dorm in light, he escaped to the hanger.

You were sat beneath his X-wing, head obscured by the mechanism you labored away on.

It wasn’t a big problem, you had assured him of just that as you stumbled into his room after him just hours before. He wasn’t worried, he knew how good your hands were, in more way then one. You’d have it fixed in no time if you were up this early to do it.

“Everything alright, babe?”

Settling onto the stool next to you, he scooted closer until he was around your back, peering at your hands while they worked from over your shoulder.

His breath was back, not as hot, but certainly as persistent across your skin as he drew closer. The sigh escaping your lips wasn’t meant to sound as exhausted or annoyed as it did, but it was early.

“It’s just a connection problem, it’s nothing, Commander.”

He nodded along, the influx of breath changing directionally from your shoulder to ear.  “You don’t have to call me Commander.”

This scoff, different from the last sigh, was meant to come out exactly as it did. Annoyed, Cold. Tired.

“We’re working.” You reminded him, as if he didn’t notice your hands in his ship or his uniform uncomfortably pinching at his skin, it had nothing on the sheets of his bed, or your soft skin—

“Do you need something?” You interrupted just thoughts.

He pulled back, rubbing over his face, “No, I just—”

Your head swiveled around to see him stuttering over his words, dragging his bottom lip through his teeth as he got to his feet. “No, I just came by to come by. Maybe I’ll see you later.”

“Maybe.”

He could accept that, at least for now.

What he had of you wasn’t ideal in his mind, that was for sure, but it was something. He wanted more, but he would settle, for now.

When a knock came to his door later that night, he honestly didn’t even expect it to be you. But he slid the door open anyways and readily grabbed you the second he found you stood there.

First your jacket was tossed away, followed quickly by your shirt. He was desperate to connect his lips to your skin, every inch of it he could get access to as he pulled you into the room.

You barely felt their plush connection to your neck, not until the door was firmly shut and locked behind you. Then, and only then, did you turn and melt into his touch, allowing him to easily rid you of your clothing.

“I fixed—” the clank of his belt buckle cut you off, his pants following yours to the floor, “your ship is fixed.”

“That’s good.” He sat back down on his bed and with a tender grip into the notches on your hips, tugged you with him, trailing his mouth down between your chest, further down and further down until you lowered yourself onto his hips and brought your neck back to level with his lips. “That’s really good.”

He huffed into your neck and you echoed it with a subtle moan, urging him forward, flipping your back to the bed, and pulling his shirt up and over his head before resettling between your legs.

“I don’t know how you did it.” You muttered back as he pulled away to nip along your chin.

“What?” He dragged back breathlessly to find your eyes again, a hand reaching up to mindlessly swipe his curls away.

“The wire connection, it wasn’t normal wear and tear.” You breathed out, equally out of breath now, your fingers trailing down his chest now as he knelt over you.

“You mean I did it?”

“Not necessarily, I just don’t know how it happened.” You supplied, shaking your head to get your hair from your face.

But he reached up and brushed the loose strands back to help. “Can I do anything about it?”

Your brow furrowed, “No?”

“Do you need me to do anything?” All confusion faded now, a smirk slowly taking to his lips.

You chuckled now, sitting up to bring your face closer to his, “Poe...”

“Can I kiss you again?” He returned the laugh and you nodded.

He leaned down, reconnecting your lips slower this time, with a new kind of burning heat behind it. It wasn’t urgent anymore. It was smooth and delicate, surging a fire in your gut as his hands dug deeper into your hair, keeping you in as close as he could manage.

When you finally rolled off of him, the fire hadn’t ceased, it was just satisfied for the time being.

His hands were soft, dragging along the trail of your spine as both of your breathing began to level out. “You’re so beautiful.”

Your head buried into the pillow to hide the flush of your cheeks, but he wasn’t deterred, the pads of his fingers moving further up until they connected with the base of your skull and turned your head back to him.

“Stay the night.” He cooed; his face close enough to return the heat of his breath against your cheeks.

“I can’t—”

Your hand reached to futilely push him away, but he grabbed it and used it to drag you even closer.

“I want you to,” His lips were pressed to your hairline, littering it with kiss after kiss.

“Poe—”

He pulled back in an instant, grip tightening on your hand but his face moving further back. “Are you ashamed of me?”

“What?” The sleepy haze drained from your face just as quickly as he shifted.

“You keep running away, hiding me—”

“Poe, I’m not ashamed of you.” You were quick to add, shaking you head.

He reburied one hand into your hair and tugged at your waist with the other, gripping you like he was afraid you’d leave. Leave like you left every night.

“So, stay.” He pleaded, pressing his forehead against yours.

“I can’t—”

“Please. Just tonight.” His brown eyes didn’t blink, he didn’t let his stare waver, he just pulled you in tighter. “Stay.”

Any defense fell silent on your lips, your heart unable to muster a response.

You just gave a nod, and he settled into bed next to you. Not hot but warm.

When you woke the next morning, the warmth hadn’t dissipated, still pressed into his side, one of his arms protectively slung over your body. It was a warmth you didn’t want to leave,

It was a warmth you knew you could become addicted to if you let it linger. And you had a meeting.

You slipped out as quietly as possible, picking up each article of clothing along the way, dressing easily. A quick check of your watch, you were running later than you would have liked, but not truly late, not yet. You made it to the door and sighed, turning back to steal a glance at his peacefully sleeping form.

Tiptoing back in your boots, you bent down over him and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, making him stir with a smile in his sleep.

With that, you made it out the door, exhaling a breath you didn’t even realize had caught in your throat.

It was okay. You weren’t going to be late, you hadn’t slept in, it was going to be okay—

“Officer?”

Your head turned, your sleep-pressed hair whipping around.

The General. Your heart stopped in your chest.

“This is still Commander Dameron’s room, isn’t it?” She repeated with a knowing quirk to her voice, a knowing quirk which made your heart sink all the way to your feet.

You hummed out a positive response, trying to brush your hand back through your hair, as if that alone would change her opinion. As if it wasn’t painfully obvious what had transpired the night before.

“You have a meeting to get to, don’t you, Officer?” Leia added, almost sympathetic as her gaze took an analytical scan of your appearance.

“Yes, Ma’am, I—”

The door opened to your side, the curls emerging before he did.

“Babe, you forgot your…” The words died out on his lips as he turned and saw it wasn’t just you stood in his doorway. “Officer, I mean.” He quickly corrected, as if the damage wasn’t already done.

He extended a keycard out to you, your keycard. It must have fallen from your pocket in the haste to pull your pants off.

“Yes, thank you, Commander.” You muttered, hardly audible as you grabbed it, gave the General one final nod and moved off down the hall.

He didn’t watch you go, he knew better than that. Instead he turned his attention to the General who had her stare down to her feet, as if to give them a semblance of privacy.

“That wasn’t—” He tried, but even he couldn’t make sense of his defense.

He wasn’t even wearing a shirt and it was way to early in the morning for you to have been there for any other reason.

“What I think it was?” Leia smirked as she finally returned her stare.

“Yes. No. I don’t—”

“We have business to discuss.” She interrupted and he nodded.

“I’ll grab a shirt.”

He was in trouble. Big trouble.

-> my ko-fi

[stormhawksplanb]

Plan B: A Storm Hawks Fanfic

Chapter 8

https://myhushhushdarling.tumblr.com/PlanB

(The link above is the master list of the Chapters, but you can also check out the 3planb for mobile users <3) I gave a big sigh as I followed Piper and Aerrow to the ship. Silently thanking the Ancient Mages of Atmosia that Aerrow didn't tell me to stay behind on the Terra. Instead, I got to listened in on their conversation.

"The Rex Guardians had called us up for a mission. The whole terra has been experiencing tremors at an unnatural rate."

Piper nodded at him, understanding more than I could.

"Terra Rex isn't sitting anywhere near the edge of a tectonic plate, so that's not a good sign. Do you think it's possible that this is where she was heading?"

"Yes."

My heart fluttered in my chest. I wasn't scared, but not exactly excited. Maybe this was my chance to prove to the Storm Hawks my worth. That I was more than capable of joining them on their mission to stop Ravess.

On our way to the cockpit all we could hear was the sounds of Crashing Boxes and clinking Metal. The three of us looked at each other nervously and rushed to open the door.

The scene that was playing out in front of us earned a quick giggle from both me and Piper.

Stork and Finn was currently chasing Raddar and Gear around the room. The two small furry friends were playing keep away with a crtustal. Soon enough they realized we had eventually walked in, and they froze in place. Piper was the first to break the ice.

"What's going on here you guys?"

Stork stood up straight, clearing his throat. Acting like nothing happened.

"Uh- Nothing just... You know..."

"Isn't that Nova's... Nova Crystal?"

Piper seemed just as dissapointed in the situation as I was. It's nice to know that she at least listened to me when I told them not to touch my Crystal.

Finn was quick to defend himself as all eyes landed on him.

"What!? It started to make this really weird ringing sound, then it started to hiss and I thought it was going to explode!"

Piper turned her head at me, concern in her eyes. I shook my head at them, and Quickly took the Crystal from Raddar.

"Well for starters no one here should be touching this crystal with bare hands. You're lucky I treat the Nova Crystal with a water bath to dampen the effects."

Piper's hand shot back into her chest as it started to glow again. Burning my hand in return.

"OW! DAMMIT!"

Doubling over to my knees, I held my heated hand to my stomach. The high pitched hissing got louder, and everyone watched as the crystal started slowly sinking through the floor.

After I adjusted the red gauntlet on my burned hand, metal prongs extended from the fingers. Acting like a claw that let me pick up the crystal. The hissing seizing.

"Like I said... Shouldn't be touched with bare hands..."

After that everyone just kind of looked at me in bewilderment. Piper seemed the most astounded as she kept her eyes glued on the crystal.

"I didn't know the crystal could do that. I thought all it did was make clouds of colorful mist!"

I chortled at her.

"Actually, the Nova Crystal had a lot of similar properties of Leech Crystals. It developed on my Home terra, Argonia-"

I took a quick break in my explanation to store the Crystal back in its metal box.

"For a few hundred years no one knew it even existed. It was my own family line that discovered it, and ho dangerous it could be. The day they did was the day they decided to join the rest of Atmosia, and take on a Sky Knight. All while keeping knowledge of the Nova Crystal a secret."

Piper nodded at me, seemingly satisfied. Meanwhile Finn was scratching his head.

"So you really are a Sky Knight then?"

Stork scoffed at him.

"Wait, your telling me none of you realized it yet? The Nova Crystal? Her name being 'Nova'. The Name of her home Terra being Argonia?"

Collectively they all shook their heads at stork. He rubbed his temple.

"Then that means no one on this ship ever heard of 'The Raving Vultures'?"

I was impressed that Stork figured out that much.

But before anyone could ask any other questions the alert system on the ship went off, and Aerrow started to bark commands

"Stork, get the Condor moving again. Piper Identify where that alert is coming from!"

All at once they were at their stations. It was a stress signal coming from Terra Rex, only a few Klicks away from where we were.

And as if on cue Ravess was there as well. Along with a couple of her battle ships. And honestly with the size of the Condor, I'd rather be on her battle ship if a dog fight broke out.

The communication system turned on, and Ravess' voice came out from the speakers.

"Attention Terra Rex, and it's soon to be defeated Rex Guardians, Your Terra has something of great importance to me. So If you follow my instructions to the 'T' I might let you live. If not, I will most certainly obliterate your pathetic little Terra..."

Instead of any sort of compliance from the Terra there was a retaliation. Cannons shot out from somewhere on the ground. And a small group of fleet ships (Battle ships that are smaller, but built for speed and design) came out from behind us. It seemed like there was gonna be a fight one way or another.

"Fine, prepare yourselves, and your terra for it's doom!"

Just like that the Condor jerked forward, and we started taking puck shots at their battle ship with our energy cannons (As if it was going to do anything). My heart raced in my chest, and I can't lie. Images of my nearing death flashed in front of me.

We weaved in and out of the crossfir, barely missing the onslaught ammunition. Soon enough I heard Aerrow yelling toward stork to "perform 'Plan B'. Despite the panic I felt, I was already awaiting instructions from him as he turned to look at me.

"And by the way Nova. You're Plan B- Let's go".

My throat went numb, but I followed him to the hanger regardless. When I reached the doors he was already seated on his skimmer, and pointed at Finn's ride.

"Don't worry about trashing it. We have plenty of spare parts for it-"

It was time to tell the truth.

"I DON'T KNOW HOW TO FLY!"

I covered my mouth just as quickly as I could. Aerrow seemed amused.

"I know..." Then he started up his skimmer and flew off. It took me a few seconds to realize what he just did to me. It was either fly, or stay behind on a rocky ship. Naturally I chose the WRONG option, and decided to fly.

Turning the key on Finn's ride, and taking lessons from my previous crash, I took off swerving from the landing strip.

As the ground below me was getting closer, I heard the familiar humming of Aerrow's Skimmer. Looking to my side I was met with a very entertained face. Aerrow was still actually flying, but yet falling beside me. That is until he flipped a switch on the dashboard of my current ride. I screeches as the wings unfolded, and caught a draft forcing the skimmer to fly horizontal.

From then on out it was relatively easy to maneuver. My only problem was when the storm hawks precious leader told me exactly what Plan B was.

"So you want to prove that your a sky knight, huh?"

I nodded at him, and he pointed at the lower entrance of the ship, and I watched as a handful of "Cyclonians" dropped out on their own skimmers.

"I'm going to sneak aboard the ship. And you're gonna distract the Cyclonians..."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Well, I figured your lack of experience riding a skimmer will make it harder for them to hit you. Good luck!"

I shook my head at him, hoping he'd change his mind. It was obvious he wasn't as he zipped past me and into the red ship.

Shaking off the growing fear I hit the throttle. I sped past in front of the group of enemies, successfully getting their attention.

I was being chased, and I was calculating the likelihood of my death. I felt my backpack shuffle around, and I saw gear crawl over my shoulder. Her claws digging in my shoulder as she tried to cling to me. We were going to need new gear if we plan on bobbing and weaving through the clouds like this more often.

Taking coverage in a thick and fluffy cumulus, I took out my Nova Crystal and attached it to the open space in my gauntlet. Then I took from gear a small, sanded down Blocking Crystal and equipped that into a deposit spot right above the Nova Crystal. The gauntlet came to life as the wired fingers reached out and locked themselves into the tips of the gauntlet rings. Giving me a different type of claw. After turning around the skimmer, I hit the throttle full force. Deciding to go head to head with the Talons.

I never had a dog fight before. And there was something about the current atmosphere, and the danger that made me feel almost free. My body felt warm against the wind, and I aimed my fingers at my opponents. My thumb was ready to pull the trigger attached to the gaunlet.

As soon as I pulled my thumb away the recoil from the energy blast jerked my whole arm back. I regained my senses in time to see the green ball of light collide, causing the guns on their skimmers to backfire, and explode. Before I knew it, the battle seemed to be heading in our favor.

"Gear, I need a reload!"

Like I said earlier, the Nova Crystal acts like a leech crystal. That means the smaller the fragment, the less shots it has. Sadly all I had on me was small shards of blocking crystals. Though it was more effective than I thought it would be.

My fighting continued as gear and I swindle down the supplies of ammo. Looking around me I could tell we were pushing back Ravess' forces, and I even watched one of her Battle ships fall from the sky. Soon enough we won the battle, and I was lead back onto the condor.