#take me back to when bbs was airing live

[airenyah]

i don't want new bbs special eps i just want to watch all of แค่เพื่อน​ครับ​เพื่อน​ BAD BUDDY SERIES (2021) live on a weekly basis for the very first time again

[here2bbtstrash]

crybaby (explicit)

genre: all pwp all smut babeyyyyyy

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: your boyfriend has always mixed his pleasure with pain.

word count: 4.3k

contains: explicit sexual content!!!!!! like that's the whole fic lmao 😵‍💫 established relationship, marathon sex, wrist restraints/bondage, cocky yet eager sub!jungkook 🥵, soft dom!reader but she can be a lil tough, clothed tit play, objectification, she calls him bunny which i think is cute 🥺, spitting, dick riding, unprotected sex, fingers in mouth, humping/grinding, jk has a nipple piercing 🙈, overstimulation/multiple orgasms - for both of them hehe, vibrator use, jungkook (and reader!) pushing himself to his limits bc..... he's jungkook, he cries 🥲, reader finds it hot 👀, a lottttt of sweat & cum lol, cum licking/eating, blowjob, maybe some subspace if you squint, winners never quit 💪, talk of coming dry at the end, jk is kind of a little shit lmaooooo - alright i think that's it 😩

A/N: not me barely managing to get this up before the ticket sales start 😅 happy hunger games to y'all who have codes!!! this fic is a birthday gift to my love, my angel, my cunning linguist @moni-logues 💜 HAPPY (yesterday) BIRTHDAY bb, can't wait to marry you on our first date, it is the joy of my life to build castles in the air with you~

and god bless jk for his lives the past few weeks bc they breathed so much life into this regular degular "sub!jk" fic idea. i'm v obsessed with his personality and the way he always pushes himself "just a little more", whether it's in staying up til 5 am singing karaoke on his couch or giving his absolute all in a workout. just so in love with our bunny tbh, so i hope you enjoy this spicy version of him too!! 🥰

read on AO3!

~*~

You know your boyfriend has always mixed his pleasure with pain.

He stays up late even when he’s exhausted, likes to do his workouts to failure, could spend hours in a tattoo session with the needle pressed to his skin and his bones humming from the buzz. Always holding out for as long as he can, always wanting just a little bit more before he calls it quits, even when it’s hard, even when it hurts. Because he wants to test his limits.

And today, you want to test them, too.

That’s why you text him to meet you in the bedroom, let him find you in nothing but one of his oversized Carhartt shirts, kneeling up on the bed as you affix a pair of purple silk restraints to the headboard.

There’s the soft creak of the mattress from Jungkook’s added weight, and you feel the heat of him as he crowds you from behind, hands dragging up the curve of your hips and taking the hem of your borrowed shirt with it.

“This was the emergency, huh?” The low murmur of his voice is chased by the cool touch of his lip ring as he drags his mouth up the nape of your neck. A blossom of arousal starts to unfurl in your core. “Wanted to use these?”

“Yeah,” you answer, feigning nonchalance as you give the silk a firm tug to test that it holds. Satisfied, you let yourself sink back into Jungkook’s touch, dropping your head against his shoulder and smiling when he leans down to brush his lips over yours. He hums a soft little sound into your mouth.

You cup your hand to the nape of his neck when you pull away to finish the thought. “Thought we could try them on you.”

The words are seemingly all your boyfriend needs to hear; he drops down onto the mattress so hard that he bounces a little. You can’t help but laugh at the way he scrambles to strip out of his sweatshirt, like he’s being timed, then hurriedly centers himself on the pillows, eyes glinting dark with desire.

When you first started talking to Jungkook, everything about him made you expect that he would be the one to call the shots. The good looks, the tattoos and piercings, the muscles— and definitely the motorcycle. But once you’d sat across from him at dinner on your first official date, only to watch him blush and fumble his way through a conversation, you started to suspect that maybe he preferred to follow rather than lead.

That thought was certainly confirmed the next time you saw him out in public: it’d been a full two weeks since your first date, with nothing but radio silence between you since. You were admittedly maybe a little too drunk when you spotted him out with his friends at the same bar you’d been dragged to by yours— drunk enough to have no problem walking right up to him to read him for filth, in front of all of his friends, for ghosting you.

Except he’d just blinked those big brown eyes up at you, mouth dropped open in disbelief, and quietly admitted that he’d been waiting all this time for you to text him.

One of his friends had clapped him on the back, laughing loudly as he corroborated Jungkook’s confession. “He’s been having midnight karaoke pity parties because he never heard from you. Please take this boy out again before his neighbors have him evicted!”

That night told you everything you needed to know about how the dynamics in your relationship would work out. That if you wanted something, there was a very good chance Jungkook wanted it, too.

Which is why it doesn’t surprise you that your boyfriend is already sprawled out half-naked on the bed beneath you, arms folded behind his head in a way that makes his biceps bulge, dangerously attractive.

His mouth pulls into a cocky, flirtatious grin. “Ah, so you wanna use me?”

“I do,” you murmur, straddling your thighs over his torso and leaning up to take the smooth purple silk between your fingers. He offers you one hand before you even have to ask for it, and takes advantage of the other’s last few minutes of freedom to paw at you over your shirt. His tattooed fingers seek out your breast and squeeze, his thumb flicking lazy strokes over your nipple.

You tug the knot of the restraint to tighten it, then look back just as Jungkook closes his lips around the clothed bud of your breast. The rough drag of cotton against your sensitive skin makes you hot all over, your nipple stiffening easily at the rub of his insistent tongue.

“How’s that? Too tight?”

He smirks with your tit still in his mouth, soaking a wet spot into your shirt, teeth scraping gently. “Could be tighter.”

“You are such a show-off,” you huff, more endeared than aggravated as you redo the knot, this time as tight as you can manage. Jungkook pulls against it teasingly, but it does actually seem to hold him in place, and you can feel a dull thud between your legs at the flex of his muscles on full display, the image of him already half-helpless beneath you.

“I’m Jeon Jungkook,” he says, as if in explanation, giving your breast a final playful jiggle before you tug his other hand off to tie it up, too.

“Well, Jeon Jungkook,” you retort with a smirk and a grunt of effort as you lean over him to tug the knot tight. You glance down to find him already using the leverage of his restraints to pull himself up so that he can continue to nuzzle his face into your shirt between your tits, abdominals shaking a little from the effort, undeterred despite the loss of both of his hands.

You take his jaw in your grip and scoot yourself further down his body, dipping in to plant a kiss on his soft lips.

“Are you gonna be a good little toy for me?”

“Uh-huh,” he grunts, and you enjoy the tease of hovering just past where he can reach, watching him strain up toward your mouth to seek another kiss and fall ever so short.

You can feel arousal already dripping from your folds as you slide further down the bed, slipping off from on top of Jungkook to easily rid him of his joggers and briefs. His dick smacks against his stomach, thick and hard; wet, too, at the pretty brown tip. You toss his clothes over the edge of the bed, then strip your own shirt to follow before lowering yourself between his spread legs.

The muscles in Jungkook’s thighs tighten with visible anticipation as you hover above his cock, letting the heat of your breath fan out over him, not unlike the warm afternoon air leaking in through the cracked bedroom window, the first taste of spring. You can hear the wet clicks of Jungkook’s tongue in his mouth.

“Easy, bunny,” you murmur, and then you work up a mouthful of saliva and spit it right onto the head of his dick.

He hisses in a breath at the splatter of it, then gasps a soft little sound when you take him in your hand to slip your fist down the length of him. That’s Jungkook all over; always so eager, always so sensitive.

“What do you think?” you muse, your mouth ticking up as you feel Jungkook’s hips roll into your grasp. “Think it’s ready for me, baby?”

“‘Sready,” he grunts, teeth clenched. “Use it, jagi.”

You waste no time, crawling back up Jungkook’s body to settle your hips over his, flattening your palms against his chest. He’s still squirming, thighs flexing against the bed as he rocks up in a desperate attempt to find the wet heat of your cunt, and you giggle as you work yourself backwards until the head of his dick catches on your entrance.

It’s a bit of a stretch, but you’re wet enough to take it. You bite down on a smug smile as you manage to seat yourself on him hands-free.

“Fuck, love when you do that.” Jungkook’s voice is a low growl, and you slide a hand up the firm definition in his chest and slowly start to rock yourself along his length. His cock fills you up like he was made for it; you can feel every detail of him drag against your ridges, trailing sparks of pleasure as you tilt your hips to drive him right into your sweet spot.

Jungkook’s head kicks back against the pillow as a groan rips through him. There’s a gentle crease in his brow, furrowed in the way that tells you it’s so good: the tight heat of your pussy, the slick stretch of it when you work it on him. You ride him rough, make him take it like a good boy.

Another noise stutters out of Jungkook, chased this time by a huff of breath that it takes you a second to realize is a laugh, the tone caught halfway between shy and horny. You watch the way he squirms, restless against his restraints, like he can’t help himself.

He answers before you can ask. “The way your tits— fuckin’ bounce— fuck, I wanna touch you.”

The feeling sinks in as you watch him writhe beneath you, as you shove your hips back harder to pull more desperate sounds out of him. It’s fun, not letting him have what he wants, makes you drip that much more down the length of him.

“You can’t.”

“I know,” he grunts, wrists tugging uselessly. “It’s hot— that I can’t.”

“It is,” you concede, feigning composure despite the hitch in your breath, the way you’re already close to the edge and pushed that much closer by having Jungkook like this. Tied up, all yours, free to do with as you please.

And still fighting against his fucking restraints.

“Think I could rip these?”

It’s like your body acts faster than your pleasure-driven mind can keep up with: all at once, you’re tracing the pouted curve of Jungkook’s bottom lip, then slipping two fingers past it into the heat of his mouth.

“Shh, bunny,” you murmur. He blinks up at you, glassy-eyed as you pet over his tongue, all lush and wet on your fingertips. “Toys don’t talk.”

You press down more firmly as if for emphasis, enjoying how his soft parts give so easily to your touch, and then Jungkook outright moans around your fingers in his mouth.

The needy little sound makes your pussy pulse hot between your thighs.

“Fuck,” you hiss as you take him to the hilt, changing the stroke of your hips to grind against your toy, used solely to get yourself off now. Humping, really, rubbing your clit over the smooth skin of his abdomen where he’s blooming feverglow, flushed with need. Jungkook’s eyes flicker back in his head at the way your pussy’s taking him, squeezed tight like a vice and gushing wet. Working raw sounds out of him, his jaw gone slack; you can feel the blunt edge of his teeth and his heavy, shaky breath on the palm of your hand.

Your thighs shift to spread wider and the next drag of your clit is at just the right angle that pleasure surges up in you, undeniable, overwhelming. It’s all you can do now to chase your release, to keep rocking yourself into it, Jungkook’s thick cock plugged up inside of you and drool slicking out of his mouth to drip down your wrist.

“Gonna make myself come on my pretty little toy,” you manage to gasp.

Jungkook’s eyes find yours, burning intensity, the way he gets, and then he closes his lips tight around your fingers in his mouth and sucks, as if he’s begging to be used, and it sends you over the edge all at once. Your head tips back as your orgasm kicks through you, white noise pleasure, enough to get lost in.

Hips still rolling, you grind yourself through it, the waves of your climax swelling and receding again, until you finally drop forward against Jungkook’s chest, breathless and buzzing all over.

You let your fingers slip out of his mouth, exhale a laugh as they skip over the defined ridges of his stomach when you wipe your hand dry, taking full advantage of the fact that he’s powerless to stop you.

“Shit, that was hot.”

Jungkook’s voice is hoarse with desire as you shift to find the curve of his neck under your mouth, trailing kisses until your lips brush over the pretty lines of ink just behind his ear. He’s still thick and stiff inside you, with a steady pulse-throb that tells you how badly he needs to come, how worked up he is from being used as your personal hump-toy.

“Yeah,” you echo, paired with a tentative rock of your hips that makes your cunt flutter, overstimulated, tugs a little whine out of Jungkook, too. Your tongue feels thick in your mouth as you breathe against his flushed skin.

“Think I— wanna keep using my toy. Kinda feel like being greedy.”

Jungkook’s cock twitches, shameless, at your admission, again when you flick a thumb over the silver jewelry studded through his nipple. There’s a part of you that wants to keep him like this, his leaking-hard dick filling you up while you purr nasty shit in his ear, just to see if he can come from it.

“Might ride it until I break it.” You scrape your teeth up his neck and he moans. “Gonna take all I can give you, bunny?”

His throat jumps visibly as he swallows, fights to gasp a desperate “uh-huh”. Answers with his body, too, arching up to press himself deeper into you, rubbing the slick, hot tip of his cock into your front wall in just the right way to melt pleasure down your spine. You reward his eager submission with a soft kiss, then lick along the seam of his lips, enjoying the sweet little noises that pour into your mouth when you open him up.

Still intertwined, his tongue stroking over yours, your hand goes fumbling for the nightstand, comes away with the slender cylinder of your vibrator, and switches it on before slipping it down to press between your bodies.

“Oh my god,” Jungkook groans as you nestle the shuddering bullet between your folds and find the bud of your clit. You know he can feel it too from the way his hips jerk beneath you, the steady buzz engulfing his cock as you squeeze your pussy around him, all lush sensitivity from your first orgasm. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna come.”

“You can.” The words are hardly more than a warm exhale from your mouth to his, your lips brushing. “But I’m not gonna stop.”

You don’t give him time to respond or even heave in another gasp of air before your thumb finds the button at the base of your vibrator, clicks it once, then again.

“F— ahh!”

Jungkook’s body jolts like a live wire as he falls apart beneath you. You sit up to take in the whole of him, your free palm slipping to the jut of his hip, fingertips splayed out and pressed heavy to anchor.

Pinned down and helpless, he trembles through the hot rush of his release, dick buried deep and pulsing as it all comes spilling out of him.

“That’s it, baby,” you coo. Your nails scratch lovingly against his skin to coax him out of it— taking such good care of your toy. His breath is punching out of his chest in these ragged, overwhelmed gasps, sweat glittering at his temples while he whimpers through the comedown. So fucking beautiful like this.

The hum of the vibrator rolls through you, strong enough with the change in angle that your eyes drop shut to focus on the feeling.

Jungkook whines when you circle your hips with him still tucked up inside of you— it’s a wrecked little noise, high and sweet, underscored by the thick squelch of his cum starting to leak back down his shaft. Your thighs tense just right from the filthy sound of it, and then it’s all throbbing velvet glow in your core as you clench up and come on his cock again.

“Fuuuuuck, bunny,” you groan up to the ceiling, your head tipped back as it washes over you. “God, yeah.”

You flick the vibrator off when it gets to be too much, let it go rolling down the mattress— the bedroom feels bigger for the silence. Sweat slicks at the back of your knees, warm spring breeze still licking through the window to flutter the sheer-gauze curtains.

You’re fluttering too, all over: the kick of your heartbeat, the breath stuttering out of your lungs. The throb of your cunt, split open and drooling out juice, messy-wet fresh fruit.

The sound of the bedsheets shifting has your lashes flickering open again, and there’s Jungkook. Dark hair fanned out on the pillow, wrists bound, and that look in his eyes. Like he can take a little more. Like he’s waiting for your cue. Like there’s this whole-heart want brimming up inside of him, making his blood run hot.

He’s still hard between your legs.

“Go on then,” you tell him. “Give me another one.”

With a concentrated growl, Jungkook flattens his feet to the bed, grips tighter to his restraints for leverage, and starts to pound up into you. You can feel an overstimulated shudder in the stroke of his hips, how his cockhead twitches, sensitive, as it rubs over your g-spot. But he doesn’t stop; doesn’t even lose his rhythm.

He fucks you like a machine, and it’s all you can do to brace your palms against his chest and tip forward, rocking yourself down to meet him thrust for thrust.

The harsh slap of body on body is almost enough to drown out the rest: your open-mouthed panting, Jungkook’s groan when your nails dig crescent moon slivers into his tan skin, the gravel edge to your words, “Yeah, like that, fuck me just like that.”

It takes you a second to notice, the sound buried beneath it all, but then it floats through— Jungkook’s sucking his breath in through his teeth now, his jaw tight. You can see the jump of a muscle working there.

“Does it hurt, baby?” you gasp, more air than voice.

Jungkook’s head drops back against the pillow, brow pinched from the focus of keeping his pace steady. He’s breathless, too, when he answers: “Feels good.”

“Feels good because it hurts, huh? Is that how you like it?”

A strangled noise tears out of his throat, and he shoves up even harder, like he wants to fuck you into the shape of him. You splay one hand over the column of his throat and watch his pretty brown eyes blink-blink back at you, and then you have to bury your moans in the crook of his neck as you come hard.

The world around you returns a little at a time. First, the tremble of your tired thighs, the dull ache that’s already started to bloom at the bend of your knees. Then, Jungkook’s body curved up against yours, hips still slow-rolling as you exhale in hot, jagged bursts against his skin. There’s the distinct drip of his cum sliding out of you, and all the sticky-wet places where it’s slicked up the swell of your ass.

“Shit,” you laugh when you manage to find the breath for it. “That was crazy.”

Jungkook shifts a little, but doesn’t respond, and then he makes this wet, soft gasp. You realize he’s shaking beneath you.

You sit up so fast the room spins; your tether is Jungkook’s face, cupped lovingly now between your palms.

“Oh, baby.”

A fat teardrop traces a path down his cheek. Another threatens the dark border of his lashes. He can’t wipe them away with his wrists tied up, but you can see him trying to hold back even as a sob shudders through him, his chest heaving.

“You okay, my love?” you murmur, swiping a thumb across his face. He sniffles, nods, hiccups a little. The tip of his nose is flushed pink. “Shoulda told me to stop, if it was too much.”

“It feels good,” he insists, and his voice cracks around the words. “It’s just a lot. But ‘m not— don’t wanna stop.”

“No? You sure?”

Jungkook sucks his lip ring into his mouth as he nods again, sniffs again. That sends a bolt of something through you.

“You’ve been so good to me,” you praise, and you tip your ass back until his softening cock slips out, smeared glossy-white with your shared release. Jungkook’s still wound-up, pulled so tight inside himself that he flinches when you slip a hand down to ease his legs apart, sliding lower on the bed to slot yourself between them.

“Can I take care of you, bun?” The question’s posed sweetly, chased with a flutter of your lashes and kisses dropped down on the flat plane of his abdomen. “I’ll be gentle.”

He whimpers— answers in the way his hips lift up to meet your mouth.

Your hands press flat to Jungkook’s broad thighs, and you can feel the overwhelmed static-shiver beneath your palms, little tremors that jolt through his muscles. Head dipped low, you drag your tongue up his length and it punches a thick sob out of him, hips stirring like he’s trying to crawl up the bed. But you just keep going, pin him down and make him take it, working broad flat stripes over the whole of his shaft, root to tip. Tasting him, salt and slick and your own heady flavor; you lick him clean.

Jungkook comes quietly this time, feet flexing restless on the bed as you tongue it all out of him. You swipe two fingers through the mess on his stomach and suck that up, too.

Humming around the digits in your mouth, you surface from between Jungkook’s legs to take him in: eyes closed, face wet with tears. You can see the rise and fall of his chest as he gasps for air, shaky, coming down from it.

“Alright baby,” you soothe, shifting up to straddle his chest, knees sinking into the sheets. “All done now, just breathe. Gonna untie you.”

Reaching up, you gently tug open the knot on one restraint, then the other, easing Jungkook’s limp arms to the mattress. Your thumbs find his wrists to massage soft love-circles in case he’s gone numb there, gently coaxing him back to earth.

“Did so good for me, bunny.”

There’s a whimper, and then Jungkook’s surging up to kiss you, forceful enough that you give a little hum of surprise against his lips.

His hands are all over you, all at once, tugging at your legs to drag them forward until you’re flat on your back on the mattress. Your sore thighs shake when he shoves them up and apart, and then a sharp buzz rolls right over the bud of your clit and you keen. Fuck, when did he even grab the vibrator?

“Wanna make you come again,” he pants, and you smile even as your spine arches off the bed. Of course. You should’ve known.

It’s Jungkook all over, you think, hyper-focused on your pleasure even when he’s out of commission, and then you feel the head of his cock push inside and you both gasp. Your cunt aches, so swollen that it’s like he’s stretching you out all over again when you take him to the hilt.

“Oh my god,” you breathe. Jungkook’s hips snap, punctuated by a strangled grunt of effort, but he keeps going, making soft little sweet-pain whines with every thrust, brow scrunched as he brute-forces his way well past overstimulation.

He’s still crying, you realize.

Tears roll down his face and drip onto your collarbone, and everything’s somehow hotter for it. His length is slick, painted in the stored-up remnants of his cum, and you can hear the squish of your folds at the base of his cock each time he fucks it all back into you, so dirty it makes your head spin.

“J-just like that, baby,” you groan, overwhelmed; you can barely get the words out. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna come.”

Jungkook buries his face in the crook of your neck, and you can feel him shaking, dripping, still rabbiting his hips into you, and then the hum of pleasure reverberating through your body explodes. Your clit throbs with an orgasm that feels endless, dizzying, divine. Jungkook outright sobs as your walls pulse pulse pulse around him, begging for every last drop.

When it’s all too much, you swat at his hand, mumbling shapes that aren’t words until the vibrator’s switched off and tossed away. He pulls out with a thick wet sound and the hiss of his breath between his teeth.

Together, you come down slow. Exhaling staccato, limbs tangled, bodies flushed and sweat-sticking.

Jungkook moves first: flops onto the mattress next to you, entirely exhausted, the way you’ve seen him get after a particularly rough workout. Scrubs at his face with one hand, this shy laugh fluttering out of him. “Can’t believe I cried. Ah, so embarrassing.”

You turn onto your side, tugging his hand away so you can press a kiss to his open palm. “Don’t ask me why but… in the moment? Very hot, actually.” A flush colors his cheeks and you giggle. “My perfect little crybaby.”

He flashes you his signature cocky grin, eyes squeezing shut as it morphs into something nearer to a wince. “Fuck, I’m so sweaty.” A breathless gasp, again. “And my dick hurts. I think I came dry that last time.”

“Poor baby,” you coo, not quite sincere. “You really could’ve stopped at… what, three?”

Eyes closed and still smirking, he shakes his head, damp hair falling in his face. “No I couldn’t have— I’m Jeon Jungkook.”

“You certainly are.”

[galesleftearring]

Please Kiss Me

From this list of prompts by @eloquentmoon I present to you a short bit of Karlach x AFAB!gn!reader smut! Written originally for @infernalenginesheart ily bb

Content: fingering, kissing, it's smut, that's basically it. Short sweet and spicy. Soft dom!Karlach vibes.

Karlach was eager to touch you. Her hands wandered your body, desperate for contact after ten years of solitude, and any moment of complete privacy the two of you shared was almost immediately punctuated by her warm fingers pressing into your waist, your cheek, your wrists. In a camp full of noisy companions, your relationship was in no way secret, but (perhaps despite what Halsin might have wished) both of you had the modesty to desire a degree of privacy during your sexual encounters. And, frankly, it wasn't just Karlach's engine that ran hot. It wasn't just her head that was.... well... horny. Moments of silence in camp would inevitably end with you pinned to the ground, her mouth on yours as she straddled you, teasing your arms with her hungry hands.

This combination of high libido and limited alone time meant that sex with Karlach was enthusiastic, but often somewhat frantic and too brief for either of your taste. Far too many times you had been coming down from orgasm, still too weak to stand, when the footsteps and calls of the returning party had interrupted any moments of gentle post-coital embrace. Far too many times had you been half undressed when Shadowheart or Gale had come to stand outside the tent, announcing fifteen minutes before the party was to go back out. While frustrating, there was one definite upside to living in stolen moments and loving on borrowed time: the desperation of Karlach's wandering hands had not yet been sated.

Tonight was one of those precious, rare moments. Camp was empty, save for the owlbear cub, who slept softly by the fire. Everyone else was off on various missions, and you and Karlach had been left unattended. The second the coast was clear, Karlach had you pinned to the ground in a more secluded part of the campsite (just in case.) She made quick work of removing your shirt, unlacing your boots, and pulling your breeches and smallclothes off in one sweeping tug. Completely exposed, you shivered in the night air as the breeze tickled you. Karlach had your wrists pinned above your head with one large hand; with the other, she had begun to draw invisible, indiscernible shapes along the flesh of your collarbone with the tip of her index finger.

"Fuck, I've been thinking about having you like this all day. I've wanted to take you, just slip away for a moment and spread your legs-" as she said this, her hands had wandered to your thighs, pulling them apart to demonstrate her point.

A low moan slipped out of your mouth as she slid one finger between your folds, coming back slick with your desire. "I've been thinking about you too," you offered a bit lamely.

Karlach chuckled. "Clearly." She leaned forward, offering her finger for you to suck. You did with pleasure, relishing the taste of your lust and her skin mixing on your tongue. Karlach's finger now quite wet with your precum and saliva, she pulled it from your mouth and began to push into your pussy, slowly working one finger in and out, then two fingers, then three. Her fingers weren't small, but the feeling of fullness was just barely pleasant instead of painful, teetering on the razor's edge of bliss and discomfort that Karlach knew by now would have your mind emptying of any thought but her. You moaned and arched your back involuntarily as she started to rub circles on your clit with the thumb of her other hand. You felt your walls begin to tighten around her fingers as her pace grew faster, reaching for your g spot with every thrust.

"Mm, fuck, oh Karlach, fuck, yes, right there-!" your cries were cut off by your own moans, all while Karlach huffed and slipped her fingers in and out in pace with your squeals.

"What do you want, baby? What can I do to make you cum?" Karlach's engine flared at these words, clearly aroused by the prospect of you finishing on her fingers.

You managed to push yourself up with one arm, the other snaking up to the nape of her neck. "I want..." you mewled, "I need-Please, please kiss me." You were almost embarrassed by the simplicity of your request but you knew that the feeling of your breath mingling with hers would be enough to send you over the edge.

Karlach was quick to oblige. Never stopping her thrusting fingers, she pulled her other hand off of your clit and used it to steady herself directly above you. As you slid underneath her, you let your hand fall from her neck and resumed the stroking she had stopped. Her mouth met yours and her tongue teased its way along yours until you had stopped kissing back and were just groaning into her mouth, your eyes shut tight as she fingered you through your orgasm and her lips caressed yours.

[flowerpotmage]

Tight Grip, Broken Dam (2)

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You don’t question it anymore, when Miguel appears in your bed at night. He’s not there for sex, no, you’ve never even kissed—though you would be lying if you said you weren’t open to the idea of kissing him. He’s there for comfort. For rest. If only it could stay so simple.

Pair: Miguel O'Hara & GN!Reader

Notes: emotional hurt/comfort, cuddling, crying, bb got traumaaa! ambiguous relationship. panic attack this chapter, as well as discussions of death/canon typical (offscreen) violence

Word Count: 3,431

Read this chapter on Ao3 here. If you like my work, please consider leaving kudos there as well! You do not need an account to do so.

The slide of your living room balcony door lets you know he's there. You're on your own Earth, in your own apartment. The hour is impossibly late, your night out as the city's Spider having only recently ended. Everything had been going just fine.

Until, of course, it hadn't.

You barely register the sound of your bedroom door creaking open.

If you’d just been a few seconds faster, reacted to your spidey-senses quicker, that woman would still be–

“What happened?” His voice is right next to you.

Just like the first time he’d found you amongst rubble, you curl further in on yourself, your back against your dresser in your upright fetal position. You squeeze into yourself so hard it feels like the first stages of a core-collapse supernova. But the inward pressure doesn't stop the sobs from escaping.

“Hey,” Miguel says in his softest voice. “Hey. Breathe.”

You try, but it comes out in that sort of mutilated-dying-dinosaur stuttering and scraping gasp way that seems to bookend hyperventilation.

“Hey, look at me,” he says again. “I’m gonna—Can I put my hand on your shoulder?”

You shake your head furiously, you know touch will only send you into fight or flight right now.

“Okay, okay,” he reassures. “No touch. Can you look at me?”

A deep shuddering breath, and you look up from where your head had been buried against your knees. Miguel is kneeling in front of you, and when his frame is this close to you it takes up your whole field of vision. He's in his suit, unmasked, the luminescence of the red paneling casting a soft glow reminiscent of a neighboring house fire through cotton curtains.

“Okay, good, good job,” he praises. “Eyes on me. In,” he breathes in, exaggerating the movement of it in his body, moving his hand up to show in.

You follow along, vision blurry and face twisted and wet. You manage to breathe in, though not as smooth as him. You pull the air in, shaky, interrupted by a cracked sob you try to cut off.

“It's okay,” he says at your mid-breath sob, and then; “Now breathe out, like me,” and he blows the air out through his rounded lips.

You follow suit, breathing out shakily, before a short barking laugh escapes at a sudden realization, the self consciousness at a strange discordance with the rest of your emotions.

His brow twitches in confusion, but he continues on.

“I’m not wearing a shirt,” you laugh hysterically, face and stomach scrunching with the abruptness of it.

It's true—you had gotten out of your suit and into pajama bottoms before you had broken down in the midst of getting out a sleep shirt, which you have been pressing against your face and sobbing into and is now probably about 25% saltwater.

“Don’t worry about it,” he mumbles, glancing away then meeting your eyes again. “Just breathe, we'll worry about your shirt later. Come on,” he begins his outward breath over again, gently moving his hand down through the air as a guide for the pace.

“Your lungs are way too big,” you dissolve into laughter at the length of his breaths, still trying to breathe out through your mouth. You laugh even more when he finishes his outward breath, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement.

A few more rounds of breathing in and out (“Come on, stop it,” a chuckling Miguel says at one point, failing not to laugh too, when you burst into hysterical giggles a third time. “Try to focus on breathing.”) and soon you’ve calmed down just enough, your tears still falling though now they're coming slower and gentler.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks.

You shake your head a little too fast, and it hurts your dried out skull. “Shirt first.”

He blinks, looking up over your head. “Right.” Then he stands, leaning over you to pull open the drawer above your crouched form with your sleep shirts. When he crouches down again he hands you your biggest, softest shirt. One he knows you like.

Miguel offers an outstretched hand, red palm up. You cling both shirts—salt soaked and otherwise—to your body in one hand out of some combination of comfort and modesty, then you put your other hand in his and let him pull you up. As soon as you're on your feet he gives you a quick look over, before turning his back and moving to the door. You see now that he's holding the stack of clothes you keep for him.

After he’s left the room and you hear the soft click of the bathroom door down the hall you drop the wet shirt on the floor and pull on the new dry one, sliding into your unmade bed and doing your best to straighten out the blankets over your body.

You’re still struggling with the blanket when your bedroom door cracks open, Miguel returning quietly. He’s carrying his folded suit, so when he slips through the door he stops and sets it on your chair with your own suit and jacket. He starts to take a step from the chair towards you, pauses, and then grabs your bloody suit and leaves again. You hear the sound of the kitchen sink, and then he’s back empty handed.

You’re still wrestling with the blanket.

“Dios mio, it’s like you’ve never encountered a goddamn blanket,” he mumbles, taking it from your hands and going to straighten it out.

You look up at him. He pauses.

“What did you do to this thing?” He asks, brow furrowing as he struggles to untangle the blanket. You stifle a laugh, but it builds, eventually bursting out like an overflow of bubblebath over the side of a tub.

Eventually he figures the blanket out, mumbling under his breath as he lays it across you and sliding into the bed.

“Shit, I should have some water,” you mumble and start to get up.

A gentle hand on your upper arm stops you, and Miguel rises from the mattress as the soft press of his hand compels you to lay back down. He leaves, you hear water being poured, and then he’s back.

“I meant to get a cup for you after I changed,” he says quietly, handing it over and standing over you with hands on his hips until you’ve gulped down at least half the cup. Satisfied, he gets back under the blanket with you as you set the water on a bedside table. When you turn around, he has an arm open for you, an invitation you can freely accept or deny. It's not always holding one another and comforting embraces when he visits—sometimes the other persono just needs to be near another living thing.

But you accept, this time. It's your turn to bury your face into his chest for comfort.

“Now do you want to talk about it?” He asks, and despite his hesitant tone, you know he cares enough to listen if you do.

You press your forehead further into his sternum, just below his clavicle.

“A mugging,” you whisper, but you know he can still hear you. “I was seconds too late. Bullet wound. She bled out.”

His arms tighten around you as your body tenses, fighting back a fresh wave of tears.

“I waited too long, I should have–”

“You’re still human,” he interrupts you. “Stop that.”

“Miguel–”

He interrupts you again, saying your name. “No. Don’t do that to yourself.”

You fall quiet, stiff in his arms. He sighs, running a hand up and down your spine.

“The guilt is normal. It’s never easy, not when you feel you could have done something else…” his hand on your back stops for a moment as he trails off, and he sighs yet again, resting his cheek on your head as he holds you. His hand resumes its soothing touches. “But it doesn’t do any good to beat yourself up. We just try to do better next time.”

Your body relaxes, slowly.

“She was so scared,” you whisper. “I couldn’t do anything, and she was so scared.” The tears start to come again. The salt burns your already raw, dry eyes, the hot and thick drops flowing freely as you bury your face in his shirt.

Then Miguel does something he’s never done before, hesitating before taking the leap.

He kisses the top of your head.

Again, it isn't always crying and comfort. It’s usually business and the busyness of trying to balance your triple-life; work and the few friends you still have along with Spider duties on your own earth, and then helping other Spider-People on other earths capture anomalies and bringing them back to Miguel and Margo to be sent home.

And Miguel isn't the only visitor. Sometimes Gwen crashes at your place when she’s not with Hobie, who’s also visited once or twice with her. Eleven years her senior, it feels more like having a much younger, cooler sister come to visit from out of town so your parents can go on vacation to a swingers cruise. Or something.

“I don’t have a lot of groceries, so first things first: I’m dragging you to the store with me,” you say to Gwen as you step through the portal into your living room, pulling off your mask. She follows through right behind you.

“Fine by me. I’ve been craving those weird cookies from last time. Hobie doesn’t have them in his dimension, and they definitely don’t have them in Nueva York.”

You chuckle, heading toward your room. “We’ll make sure to get some extras for you then. And I’ve got your duffle bag from last time stashed in here. I washed everything, since last time we got kinda crazy with the balcony plants.”

Gwen follows you and leans on the door frame, giving a cursory glance over your room as you crouch to pull out her duffle bag from your closet. When you stand and turn to hand her the strap of the bag, she quickly straightens up and her eyes snap towards you—you know her well enough to recognize the sparkle of curious glee in her eyes, the careful poker-faced smile covering up a grin.

“Thanks!” she says, ignoring your suspicious look, taking the duffle bag and disappearing to change in the bathroom.

You turn and look around your room, searching for what might have prompted that reaction. Your eyes land on Miguel’s sleep-over clothes from that night nearly a week ago when he had found you crying, still hanging loosely over the back of the armchair.

“Jesus,” you mumble, taking them and stuffing them in the dirty laundry hamper, face hot.

An hour or more later, you’ve gone and returned from the grocery store with Gwen. Music plays on your apartment speakers, and golden sunset light streams in through windows and the sliding glass doors of the balcony. You’ve made stir-fry with Gwen, serving it on mismatched thrift store dishes, and now the two of you make your way to the small table on your tiny balcony to eat outside while the music from indoors drifts out to mingle with the ambience of the city.

“Thanks for letting me crash here again,” Gwen says, putting her feet up in the third empty chair.

“Of course,” you smile at her, setting your glass of water on the tiny coffee table.

You both eat for a moment in silence, enjoying the warmth of the slowly fading light and the sounds of the city. Somewhere someone is practicing violin.

“Sooooo,” Gwen rolls her head to look at you. “Who’s the guy?”

You nearly choke on the rice.

“Jesus,” you finally say, washing it down with water and thumping your chest. “What guy?”

“You know,” she says, looking at you sidelong with a raised eyebrow. “The one who left a t-shirt and sweatpants in your room?”

You shake your head, taking in a breath and looking off into the peachy sky. God help me. “There’s no guy, it’s not like that. He just stays here sometimes—”

“Wait, so is it ‘no guy’ or there is but it’s not like…?” she drops her feet off the extra seat and leans towards you, “You said he stays here sometimes, though? So there’s something.”

“Oh my god, Gwen, no,” you can feel your face getting hot. “No, it’s not like that.”

“You said that already,” she kicks her feet back up, grinning. “Do I get to meet him?”

“No. Eat your vegetables,” you roll your eyes and kick the leg of her chair, making her wobble and catch her balance with her spider reflexes.

“Okay, okay! Touchy,” she says, no real venom or irritability in her voice. You both resume eating, small smiles on your faces.

Gwen joins you on patrol that night, helping you stop a convenience store robbery and web up a guy trying to break into his ex-girlfriend's apartment. You’re done and home by one in the morning, and by one-forty-five, she’s asleep on your couch with the soft light and sound of the tv still playing.

There’s no real reason for Miguel to be here tonight, in this dimension. He knows this, he’s told himself this, and he’s ignored it. It’s just that… he’s having trouble sleeping. Jess, Lyla, and even Peter B. Parker all told him he should sleep more, that he should take care of himself.

There’s other ways he could try to deal with his insomnia, of course. It’s not like there aren’t sleep-aids on Earth-928 (Would those even work the same on me still? he wonders). He tells himself he mostly wants to check in on you after last week. You’ve seemed alright when you’ve passed at Spider Society HQ, when he’s seen you on the security cams laughing with Peter B. Parker and his daughter, May. But if there’s one consistent feature across the multiverse it’s that Spider-People like to hide whatever’s going on under the surface, like house cats and wild animals afraid to show weakness for fear of predators. Better to ask you in private, in person.

Miguel sees the faint glow of your television through the balcony doors of your apartment as he swings closer. You’ve told him once that you try to avoid blue light this late since it affects sleep quality, so the fact that you’re watching tv at this hour reads to him as a sure sign that he’s made the right decision to come check in on you.

Miguel engages the light byte cloth to soften his landing on your balcony, straightening up from a crouch to stand, sliding open the glass doors—

Thwip!

His hand is webbed to the jam.

And that’s definitely not you on your couch, sitting up from under one of your spare blankets, with your pillow on one end.

“...Miguel?”

Shit.

Gwen glances at your bedroom door. “Are you two…?” She trails off into awkward silence.

Miguel doesn’t know what to say, though he suspects he knows what Gwen is asking.

“...No.” He turns his head to look down the darkened hallway of your apartment—now noticing the sound of your shower—then looks back at Gwen, tearing his hand free from her webbing.

Gwen stares at him.

Miguel stares at her. A small seed of unease plants itself in his chest.

“This is weird,” she says.

“You’re not on Earth-138,” he replies.

The sound of your shower stops.

“I uh, I crash here sometimes.”

“I can see that.”

Silence. Gwen glances once between the hallway and Miguel when the sound of the bathroom door clicking open carries down the hall.

Miguel turns his masked head towards your approach, his body still facing Gwen. He’s already looking at your eyes the moment you stop in your tracks, your eyes snapping to where his are underneath his mask.

“Miguel,” you hiss, eyes wide, sweeping your arm out towards the couch. “Gwen’s sleepi–”

He also sees the way your brain seems to freeze when your gaze moves to the couch and sees Gwen is sitting, wide awake, and looking right back at you. He sees some unspoken conversation between the two of you, Gwen’s eyes widening at you as if to say I was so absolutely right about something, yours widening as if to say Whatever you’re thinking is so absolutely incorrect, please believe me.

“Lyla said your watch needs maintenance.”

Both your heads whip to look at him. The seed of unease wobbles.

“Oh,” you say, and Miguel gets the distinct impression that you’re trying not to look at Gwen, trying to play it casual. “So you came to pick it up…?”

“Figured that would be best. In case something was really wrong, and you tried to use it. And got turned into a shocked up Cronenberg creature.”

“A what?”

“It’s an Earth-616 media reference,” you explain quickly, still looking at Miguel. “Uh, I’ll just grab the watch really quick.”

He inclines his head, and watches you disappear into your room. Would it be weird if he followed you in? There’s no way he’s going to get to talk to you tonight with Gwen here, much less stay over—

“Here it is,” you reemerge, holding the watch. “Uh, how long will it take to…?”

Miguel steps closer, taking the watch from you. “I can do it now, but you’re getting ready for bed so maybe I’ll just bring it back in the mo–”

“I don’t mind,” Gwen says. “If it’s only gonna be a little bit, why bother leaving and then coming back?”

You both look at Gwen, Miguel turning to look at you again while you stare at Gwen. He tries not to shift on his feet while the two of you stare silently at one another.

“Yeah, uh, you can use my desk in here,” you finally turn to face Miguel, nodding your head towards your room. “So Gwen here can go back to sleep.”

“I’m not tired–”

“I’m making you catch up on homeschool shit tomorrow, while you’re here,” you raise an eyebrow at her. “I know you’re behind.” Gwen groans. “So get some rest.”

“Alright, alright,” Gwen flops back down on the couch.

Miguel watches this exchange, the tight, pitted feeling in his chest disappearing inside a warm cocoon. You catch his attention again, nodding towards your open bedroom door for him to go in. He goes past you, letting his mask dissolve back into the body of his suit. The bedroom door clicks shut, and he turns to face you, mouth open with a ready apology, only to find you with your head buried in your hands.

“Oh my god,” you say. “Now Gwen thinks we’re fucking.”

Oh.

“I haven’t done laundry, haven’t needed to since you washed my suit for me after… After that woman died,” your voice catches, but you continue on. “So your sleepover clothes were just on the chair, and Gwen saw and assumed I’d been having a guy over, and then you show up at like two in the morning,” you drag your hands down your face, finally meeting his eyes.

“I didn’t realize she stayed here sometimes.”

“Yeah, well, she can’t just move in with Hobie, and HQ is no place for a kid to live full time. It’s too busy.”

He doesn’t disagree. HQ is hardly a home. Maybe that has something to do with–

“The watch maintenance isn’t real though, right?”

“No,” he says, tossing it back to you with a gentle underhand throw. “I just…”

“Yeah,” you catch it effortlessly, nodding. He watches your hands turn it over and fidget with it, watches you checking the screen.

“I wanted to see how you are. After last week.”

Your hands still. He watches you swallow, your shoulders freezing.

Nope, there it is—the pit wasn’t in the warm cocoon, it was just sneaking down into his gut.

“I’m alright, just... Y’know.”

He nods. He knows.

“If you need anything…”

You nod.

“...I should go.”

You nod again, and he feels the knot in his stomach start to grow, before only the size of an olive pit, now swelling to a peach stone.

“Just… With Gwen here,” you say. “I don’t…”

He nods again too. “I know.”

And then he’s opening a portal, filling your room with brilliant orange light, the objects in your room flickering and starting to move. He steps through with a quick glance back at you, and then the portal closes on your apologetic face and he’s alone in the dim light of his lab.

He doesn't sleep very well that night.

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[shortpplfedup]

Only Friends Character Rankings Pre-Air

Jojo, Ninew, Ninepinta and Vivienne have now presented their stable of hoes to us, y'all have chosen your fighters, and I am gnawing on concrete in anticipation of August 12. Since I'm gonna be doing weekly character rankings, I wanted to set up a pre-air Clown Checkpoint so I can look back later and see how wrong I was. Until that YouTube premiere countdown hits zero, we know exactly nothing, but I'm ready to predict whose gay wrongs I will most support! Here we go!

1. Nick

I just want you to love only me!

Audience ranking: 6

Ever since Mark Pakin showed up in that pilot trailer scheming and sex-taping, Nick has been MY DUDE. I want him to be the most manclown character of all time. I want him to be DESPERATE AND PATHETIC for Boston's dick. ANSWER EVERY BOOTY CALL NICK, I BELIEVE IN YOU. HE WANTS YOU TO DO A THREESOME? NO PROBLEM, WHATEVER YOU WANT BABE. I want Nick to call his bestie (Sand?) crying because Boston came over at 3:02 a.m. and left at 4:37 a.m. and 15 minutes of that was him taking a post-coital shower. I want crying and begging and clinging and devious acts. Khun Pakin has the chops to make my dreams come alive, make it happen boo!

2. Mew

My type is pretty simple. I'm not a picky kind of guy.

Audience ranking: 4

Right up until time of posting I thought my #2 seed would be Boston, but something is telling me that when it comes to manipulation and making grown men cry, Mew will emerge the champion. Something in this butter-wouldn't-melt expression is telling me this man is the true demon from hell whereas Boston is merely a top-tier-yet-still-garden-variety slut. Him shit-kicking Boston into the pool and then jumping in himself to finish the job is the kinda deranged shit I respect immensely. Kill them all Mew. You deserve.

3. Boston

You should be glad to be my favourite.

Audience ranking: 5

I may have called this man a garden variety slut, but I love a good slut though! Especially one who will lend his toys to help out a friend. And then almost instantly regret it. And then cause chaos and problems for himself as a result. And then make it everybody else's chaos and problems. Basically, I expect Boston's job to be throwing hole around Bangkok and ruining lives, and I expect him to do it WELL, and I expect him to do it in the sluttiest rent boy outfits I've ever seen.

4. Ray

You think my life will be better with you? It's only fucking going down to hell.

Audience ranking: 3

Speaking of chaos and problems, OUR BI DISASTER IS HERE GUYS! Bisexual? Bipolar? Why not both? The trailer is letting us know from jump that Ray is A Mess With Money and happy to use that money to buy himself some company, but also not able to keep those lines from getting blurred. I’m expecting this character to make me fall in love with him but also want to strangle him, Teh Krittikorn Saetun-style, so expect this ranking to go up until he is somehow my fave.

5. Sand

Friends don't charge friends. Besides, you should save your money for a shrink.

Audience ranking: 2

First Kanaphan’s job at GMMTV is to rip our hearts out roughly twice a year, and he’s right on schedule. It seems like Sand never learned not to fall for poor little rich boys, so we will all have to suffer with him. Honestly his ranking is this low right now because I see these guitars and microphones and I want no part of them. There is a short list of GMMTV boys allowed to sing at me and as much as I love First he is not on it. Ditch the microphone and bring back the baseball bat bb, I’m ready to see you bust some heads, kneecaps, car windows, whatever in pursuit of your love.

6. Top

When I take aim, I never miss.

Audience ranking: 7

Ah yes, the hoe-turned-seeming-housewife who’s actually still hoeing. The village bike. The community top. Boston basically turns him out and he’s not only fine with it, he falls for the john. Delicious. I desire his ruin like I’ve desired nothing before in media.

7. Everybody we don’t know nothing about yet (Yo, Nam/Syrup, Nes, Lesbian!Nonnie, A Wild Papang, various and assorted surprise guests I’m pretty sure we’re getting)

Friends don't do this to each other.

Audience ranking: 1 (combined score)

We await the tea on all the side characters, but the casting is superb, and I’m ready to see how high in the rankings they can climb.

LET THE MESS COMMENCE!

[everythingdenied]

breaking the bed in-matty healy

a/n: hi bb's <3 it's been a while, huh? but i'm back on my bullshit & after like eight years of deliberating what to write...i present to you: sub!matty. i wrote most of this half asleep and i haven't proofread it yet but i'm desperate to post so here you all go hehe ;) also, i can't thank @eaglestar31 enough for all the help and inspo w this (including this beautiful fucking picture.) everyone go say thank you evie!!!

warnings: pure filth, fem!reader, mentions of light restrains/being tied up etc wc: 2403

When he and I had shared our first kiss in a dingy Soho bar, drunk on cheap lager and lust, I'd hardly imagined that, one day, we'd find ourselves here, moving in together.

Sat cross legged in our apartment, hearts full and rooms bare, it felt strange to be able to say that, finally, we were settling down. It was only a small flat, a little one bedroom tucked away on the outskirts of Bethnal Green, but I didn't mind one bit. I'd have been content living in an old wheelie bin, as long as it was our wheelie bin to share. I didn't even care that the place was a mess, cardboard boxes littering every room, or that Matty had somehow already managed to make the air heavy with the smell of his cigarettes; I was floating on a high, one that even the tedious building of flat pack furniture couldn't spoil. No matter how much Matty whined about it. 

Padding into our bedroom with my hands curled around a lukewarm cup of coffee, my lips curved into an affectionate smile at the sight before me. Matty was sat cross legged on the floor, brows knitted together in concentration as he desperately tried to screw our new bed-frame together. He'd been at it all afternoon, vehemently insistent that building a bed was light work for him. However, as the hours passed, it had become increasingly obvious that DIY wasn't exactly his strong suit, despite the manly facade he'd initially put on. Albeit, I couldn't complain; watching him hard at work with his sweatpants hanging low on his waist and sweat sheathing his brow had been the highlight of moving day.

"How's it comin' along?" I teased playfully, gingerly leaning against the doorframe as I watched Matty attempt to jam an ill-fitting screw into the bed post, his muscles flexing in his tight black tank top.

Huffing, he let out a frustrated whimper as the screw fell from his hand, hitting the floor with a loud clank.

"Shit..." he cursed, glancing up at me through his wild mop of curls as he scrabbled around for the instructions. "I don't think i'm cut out for this DIY shit. Maybe we should, like, call Ross or summat. He'll be good at this stuff..."

"Aw, poor baby" I chuckled warmly, carefully setting my mug down. "You want some help?"

Matty glanced between me and the jumbled mess of screws and ambiguous metal parts littering the floor, wondering whether to admit defeat, before tentatively nodding his head. "Please..." he mumbled, sounding somewhat deflated. "Can't fuckin' figure this out."

More than happy to oblige, I plopped down atop Matty's lap, his warm hands instantly finding their place on my waist as I reached out for the flimsy manual. He nuzzled into my neck, his unruly curls tickling lightly against my skin as his breath fanned my cheek. I giggled at the sensation, desperately trying not to let my mind wander as I skim read the instructions. Matty, on the other hand, seemed to have already let his fall deep into the gutter, his lips meeting my jawline as he mewled softly.

"You're so gorgeous..." He hummed against my skin, hands snaking beneath the hem of my old t-shirt. "Can't believe I get to share a bed with you for the rest of my life."

Smirking, I cupped the soft curvature of his jaw. "That is if we ever get it built" I quipped teasingly, leaning into his touch momentarily before pulling away. “C’mon…I think I’ve figured out where this piece goes.” 

Matty whimpered lowly, his head falling limp against my shoulder. “Mph, can’t we take a break? Been at this for hours now” 

I rolled my eyes playfully, relishing in the mere thought of denying him what he so desperately yearned for. It was always so easy for me to get him worked up, the most simple act of sitting on his lap rendering him restless and needy, already hardening beneath the confines of his sweatpants.

“I thought you wanted my help?” I turned my head to face him, a teasing smirk tugging on the corner of my lips as I shifted atop his lap, hearing the shaky draw of his breath as my ass brushed over his growing bulge. I reached forward to grab the screwdriver tossed haphazardly onto the floor, feeling his gaze fix on my butt, clad only in a pair of tight shorts.

"Angel..." Matty practically whined, fidgeting uncomfortably beneath me. "Play fair."

"Hmm?" I feigned innocence, biting back the sadistic laughter bubbling in my throat as I watched his eyes glaze over with desire, knowing I had no intention of giving in anytime soon. "I'm not doin' anything."

Matty frowned, listlessly accepting the screwdriver I held out to him. He mumbled something unintelligible under his shaky breath, grumbling like a petulant child as I denied him once more, moving his wandering hands away from the waistband of my shorts.

"What was that, baby?" I hummed lowly, adjusting my position until I was straddling Matty. "C'mon. What did you say?"

"S'not nice to tease..."

"And it's not nice to act like a needy little brat either but...here we both are."

Matty pouted, his tongue darting over his bottom lip as he I cupped his chin in my hands, his usually bright eyes blown wide as he blinked up at me, the golden afternoon sun speckling his face.

"Please, baby..." He choked out. "Can't just get me all worked up like this and do nothing."

I tittered, letting my hands travel to the bag of his neck, grabbing lightly at a handful of his curls.

"Oh, my poor needy boy" I mocked, my honey sweet tone the perfect antitheses to Matty's pained whimper. "Need me to get you off so bad, don't you?" He nodded, his Adam's apple bobbing as he gulped harshly, greedy hands fumbling for any part of my skin he could reach. "Well, you're gonna have to wait, baby. Can't have it yet."

"Angel...please." He breathed out, desperately bucking his crotch up against me.

"Nuh uh, don't be so pathetic. Gotta build this bed first, yeah? Then maybe you'll get your reward..."

Finally realising, much to his chagrin, that no amount of whining or pleading would lead to him getting his way, Matty gave in, distractedly attempting to finish up the flat pack bed he'd been working on all day. His movements were hasty and haphazard and, buzzing with sexual tension, he often found himself screwing wrong ends together, unable to keep himself focused on the task in hand when I was sat only inches away, arse pressed against his throbbing hard on. However, after what felt like hours for both Matty and I, he managed to screw the last end of the bedpost together, looking as if he was about to burst with anticipation as he hurriedly dragged our new mattress onto the bed frame.

His eyes flitted between me and the bed as he carefully sat himself down on the very edge, breath catching his throat as I moved to straddle his waist once more, fingers trailing his biceps.

"Good job, baby" I cooed sweetly, fingers teasing the waist band of his sweats. My core dripped at the very prospect of what I was about to do. "Did so well for me. My big strong boy. Think you deserve your reward now, yeah?"

Matty nodded frantically, eyes wide and lips parted slightly. "P-please, baby. Been so good."

"Mhm, you have" I agreed, shimmying his pants down slightly so that his cock finally sprung free, its tip an angry rouge. Smiling, I placed my hand on his chest, pushing him back lightly. "Lie back for me, sweet boy."

Eager to do what he was told, Matty lay back against the mattress, gasping as my thumb trailed down the base of his cock, collecting some of his dripping pre-cum.

"God, look how fuckin' desperate you already are, baby. Been wanting to break the bed in all day, hmm?" I held my thumb to his pink lips. "Wanna taste how fuckin' needy you are?" Matty nodded once more, taking my thumb in his mouth without question as he licked it clean off his own arousal, whimpering as I continued to grind my hips against him. "Good boy."

His jaw slackened and my thumb fell from his lips as I leaned down to kiss him softly, the usually loving gesture oozing with sex. Pulling apart, I moved from the bed, tiptoeing across the room to reach into one of the cardboard boxes Matty and I had lugged into our apartment earlier this morning.

"Baby...w-what?" Matty whimpered from his position on the bed, craning his neck to look for what could have possibly taken my attention away from him.

"Shh, s'okay, baby. One sec." I crooned, finally finding what I'd been looking for under a heap of Matty's clothes stuffed into a box. I pulled the thin black neck tie from the box, a satisfied smile on my lips as I clambered back atop Matty, watching his plump lips form a knowing 'O' shape. "Gonna let me tie you up, pretty boy?"

He was more than happy to agree, gazing up at me in awe as I took ahold of his slender wrists, delicately looping the satin tie around them until it was just tight enough to restrain his hands behind his head. "Feel okay?" I asked, sitting back to admire him as he lay sprawled out on our new bed, his sweatpants pooling around his knees. I relished in how vulnerable he looked like this, his skin beaded with sweat and his hair tousled as he nodded his head submissively, desperate for my touch. "Good. Look so pretty like this. All tied up for me."

I hummed to myself, fingers brushing over his throbbing cock once more before I wrapped my hand around it, languidly pumping him a few times as he writhed beneath me.

"Angel, f-fuck, please. N-need to be in you."

"I know, baby, I know. Do anything for this cunt, wouldn't you?" I teased, keeping my pace painfully slow as I moved my hand up and down his length as his hazy brown eyes bore into me, wordlessly begging for more as he lay helpless beneath me. I could tell he longed for nothing more than to touch me and, whilst I adored the feeling of having his hands roam my body, I couldn't help but relish in seeing him completely at my mercy. "Want me to use you, love? Get myself off on your cock?

"S-shit...please. Use me, b-baby. Do anything. Just...fuck...need you" Matty pleaded breathlessly ,bucking his hips into my hand as I felt his release, already on the brink of undo after an hours worth of teasing. I carefully pulled my hand away, watching his wrists strain against his makeshift restrains as I moved to slip off my shorts, tossing them onto the floor along with the lace panties he'd bought me months ago.

Adjusting my position, I lowered myself down onto Matty's length, feeling him fill me up completely. He let out a choked whimpered, practically on the verge of tears by the time I eventually began to rock my hips. I started off slow, moving almost rhythmically along with the cacophony of choked moans and whines I'd elicited from his lips. However, with each pleading whimper, I found it hard to tease, so intent on my own release that I started to bounce on his cock, hands splayed out on his chest as I chased my own high, fucking myself on him.

"Fuck...doing so good for me, sweet boy. Feel good?"

He said nothing, only whimpering as he rolled his hips into mine. However, he needn't say a word anyhow; watching his eyes roll back into his head as he panted messily beneath me said more than any amount of praise could.

Soon enough, I could feel myself tightening around him, pleasure clouding my mind as I rode him, knowing he wouldn't be far behind from me. As if on cue, Matty bucked his hips sharply into me, his back arching off the soft mattress. "F-fuck, angel. Please...f-faster. Don't stop...think i'm gonna...fuck" He breathed out, a slew of incoherent curses leaving his parted lips as I sank down onto his hard cock once more, feeling it twitch inside my warmth. "You gonna cum, baby? S'that what you're tryna say" I mocked his unfinished words teasingly, thumbs digging into his waist as I rode him, the filthy sound of skin slapping together echoing around the almost completely bare room. "M'not far off. Hold it in for me till I cum, yeah? Think you can...think you can do that for me, pretty boy?"

Matty nodded tentatively, seemingly unsure of his own ability to hold off but willing to try for me as I sped up my movement, seconds away from release.

"That's my good boy."

Soon enough, I felt myself start to come undone around him, my nails digging harshly into his skin soft as I drew out my high, leaving little red nail marks peppered along his waist. I let out a prolonged moan, barely slowing as I encouraged Matty to let go with me, lidded eyes watching as the love of my life writhed in pleasure beneath me, marked and tied; all mine.

"C'mon, baby. Cum for me, yeah? Doing so good" I praised him breathlessly, watching him desperately roll his hips into me, whimpering loudly until he finally let go, his back falling against the mattress as he finally came, his cum dripping out of my sensitive pussy and down the base of his red-raw length.

"F-fuck...b-baby. Thank you....thank you" He panted heavily, chest rising and falling as he remained deep inside of me, hands still bound together with one of his favourite ties as he blinked up at me through bleary eyes, our heads swimming with pleasure.

His sensitive body jolted as, after taking a few moments to recover, I slowly lifted myself off of him, making sure to be as delicate as possible as I heard him whimper at the loss of contact. Shuffling beside him, I reached out for his wrists, leaning down to kiss him as my fingers shakily worked to remove his restrains.

"Gonna take these off now, yeah, sweet boy? Think we've broken the bed in enough for today...."

[dailyreverie]

Christmas tree farm

A/N: After @reallyrallyauthor sent me this wonderful ask of corgi BB being caried around christmas trees (pictured below) I had to run and write this. Title of course comes from the Taylor Swift song with the same name.

Holiday prompts ⛄ 9. Evergreen tree

Pairing: Poe Dameron x reader

Modern!AU, corgi Beebee (kind of set in the same universe of this fall fic)

Word count: 980

Twinkling lights and the smell of fresh pines danced around your eyes on that cold december day. Your nose began to freeze the second you left the warmth of the car, but after looking around and feeling Poe’s hand find yours, you knew it wasn’t going to be that bad. 

Just as it always goes on every road trip, Poe opens the door of the back seat and the usual ball of fur speeds out, snow flying around Beebee’s chubby body as he ran all around the lot packed with christmas trees. “He could at least help us find a tree.” Poe remarked as his arm settled around your shoulders, keeping the warmth close to your bodies.

“The tree he pees on is the one we take home.” Poe scoffed, pushing your hip with his. 

Finding the perfect Christmas tree had become your tradition. The very first weekend of the month you would drive to the same lot, drink the same mulled wine, and begin your search for the perfect tree.

The two of you wandered through the rows of evergreen trees, the crisp winter air tingling your noses and filling your lungs. Beebee ran ahead, leaving a trail of paw prints in the snow, making sure not one tree was left without inspecting it with his nose. 

Poe squeezed your hand, his breath visible in the chilly air. "You know, Beebee might be onto something with his method,"

“Told ya’, the one he pees on…” You chuckled, leaning into him.

“I know we always find the best tree but this time I want it to be special, bigger, fresher.” You looked up at him when he stopped talking, his eyes busy scanning the trees. The twinkling lights above shined warmly against his skin, letting you admire his profile in a silent appreciation, his head clearly going through a thousand thoughts as it always goes, even when it came to choosing a pine tree.

“And why is that?” You asked, even though you knew the answer; and he knew you knew, the way he turned to look at you told you so, with a soft smile and a raised eyebrow.

“Y’know…” All of a sudden he got shy, sliding down his arm from your shoulder to hold your hand instead - your left hand, the one that held the ring he gave you right on your fourth knuckle. Poe toyed with it, his mother’s ring had never looked so beautiful as it looked on you. “Years from now we are going to remember this year as the year. The year we got engaged, when we started the rest of our lives. I want our Christmas to be just as perfect as the rest of the year has been.”

“Of course is going to be perfect.” You stopped, stepping in front of him to hold his face with your gloved hands. “It’s the year we got engaged, after all.” Your twist on his reasoning made him chuckle, his hands pulling you even closer to him by your waist, letting his lips crash against yours. The cold air seemed to fade away, replaced by the warmth of Poe's embrace. As you broke the kiss, you couldn't help but smile at the realization that, with him, every moment felt special.

A distant bark broke you from your haze, and as you turn to find where it was coming from, yuou spotted Beebee standing proudly beside a tree, tail wagging, and a suspicious puddle of liquid right next to the trunk. The tree was gorgeous: tall, full of thick branches, and the most lovely smell coming from it. Poe bent down to ruffle the furry head, laughing. “Looks like we found the tree.” He confirmed. “You were right after all.”

“I’m always right, you should know that by now.” You winked, earning a quick peck from Poe before he disappeared to find someone who could help you pack up the tree.

Not long after it was all set, the tree was on the roof of your car and you had bought a few local snacks for the ride back in the small hut close by. It was there were you spotted Beebee, comfortably curled up in a ball right next to a heater. “No! Come on, Beebs!” Poe encouraged him, patting his leg to lure him out. “It’s time to go.”

“I don’t think he’s coming, love.” From behind his shoulder, you spot Beebee already falling asleep. “He’s cold, the poor guy.” You coo at him, his tail instantly wagging at the baby voice you save only for him. You don’t give it a second thought when you reach under him and carry him in your arms, his fluffy body cozily snuggling against your arms as you begin your walk back to your car.

"Looks like someone has found his cozy spot," Poe chuckled at Beebee's apparent protest against wanting to be back in the cold. “My cozy spot.”

You cradled Beebee in your arms, his fur warm against your gloves, and you couldn't help but share a tender glance with Poe. "Well, he deserves a little break, doesn't he?" As you made your way back to the car, Poe opened the door for you, and you gently placed Beebee on the back seat, ensuring he was comfortable. The small dog curled up, his eyes drooping as he nestled into a makeshift bed of blankets and coats.

Poe trapped you against the door and his body when he closed the door, a playful smile on his face as he kept closing the distance more and more. “You know, I am cold too.”

🎄❄️🚀🎄❄️🚀🎄❄️🚀🎄❄️🚀🎄❄️🚀🎄❄️🚀

“Oh, sweetheart.” You coo at Poe too, who’s eyes lit up a little bit too much alike to Beebee’s. You can’t help but kiss him, soft and sweet, reminding him what he already knows: “You’ll get all the warmth when we get home.” 

"A Christmas we won't forget, isn't it?" Poe chuckled against your lips and kissed you again, deeper this time, wanting to remember that kiss forever.

Thanks for reading! Please reblog and comment if you enjoyed it!

[globaloppaaa]

omg I just read your Matthew things post and my delusions are being fueled sjdkk 🥹🥹 would it be possible to request headcanons for looking after hanbin + hao + matthew when they’re sick? I’m so weak for fluffy stuff like that 😭

glad i could feed your delusions bb 😌 and ahh how cute of a request!! i can absolutely do that for you!

might add jiwoong in there too, juuust to complete the hyung line 🥰

in sickness and in health

ft. zb1 hyung line

warnings: nothin’ but fluff :3

jiwoong will fully believe he can take care of himself until you force him to lie down and give himself a break while you prepare him his necessities. you’ll find him to be a little grumpy at your attempts to care for him, and It takes him a while to realize that he feels much better when someone he loves wants nothing more than to help him feel his best. Eventually becomes quite shy at your kind gestures, murmuring quiet ‘thank you’s whenever you simply pass by. Even if you’re attention isn’t on him in that moment, the fact you’re present at a time when he’s most vulnerable makes his heart melt.

zhang hao will genuinely need your help, because he embraces his emotional diva when he isn’t his usual, healthy self. “babyyyy can you run to the store for meee.” “honey there’s this soup recipe i’ve been dying to tryyyy.” “don’t forget to set the air conditioner down to 68!! my temperature is rising againn 😣.” He forgets about everything he said and did to you by morning, and desperately apologizes for his immature attitude. You reassure him with countless acts of affection that you’d never mind, because he’s opening his heart, and letting himself trust you at such a sensitive time. Knowing you’re determined on making him feel his greatest makes him fall in love with you more than he ever thought he could.

hanbin is definitely the kind of guy that doesn’t take help from people easily. He’s so used to leading and caring for others all the time, so it doesn’t come as much of a surprise when you find him dizzily swaying himself over to the kitchen to make himself food or grab another dose of medicine. having you be the one running around for him makes him feels worse than the illness that aches his body, fretting over something like his mere sickness. It’ll take numerous attempts, with lots of sweet talk to lay him back down before he begins to enjoy being take care of for once, especially by the one he loves so dearly.

matthew on the other hand lives for the extra quality time he gets to spend with you at first. however, it’s soon followed by his piling anxious thoughts and insecurities. ‘what if i’m too demanding?’ ‘am i being selfish?’ ‘are they thinking little of me?’. He begins to get inside his own head for greedily using his time to admire your love for him, instead of trying to get himself back into a healthy state. He wants to be able to leave you worryless and carefree, but can only rebel your affection so much when he isn’t dead asleep lmao. the way you play with his hair, stroke his cheek, and fix his sheets is enough to make him understand the tender care he’s receiving comes from nothing less than all the love you have for him. he’ll, it’s even enough to knock that man right out.

globaloppaaa© do not copy, modify, or repost my work without consent and permission

[dem-obscure-imagines]

I Know the End | Vol. 2

I Know the End

Poe Dameron x Reader

Fandom: Star Wars

Summary: You were one of the Rebellion’s greatest weapons in the Galactic Civil War, a Princess from a distant planet, a Jedi with wings. Now, you’ve found yourself in a new world, a new war, your old friends long gone.

When Poe Dameron was sent on a wild goose chase of a reconnaissance mission four systems out, he never expected to find the key to his heart…

Note: At long last, here it is. Thank you for your patience. I love you all. I honestly wrote this as a long-winded attempt to make Poe Dameron’s dumbest line “Somehow, Palpatine returned” into a gut-wrenching and emotional moment and it got way out of hand. I am no Star Wars expert, but I did a lot of research for this and consider myself waaaaaaay more of a SW nerd now than I was a mere two months ago. Could probably write a dissertation on it at this point (I say as I literally churned out a novel). It is my first time writing for the fandom, though, so, here goes nothing. I did make up a fair bit of stuff and a good handful of OCs for this. Let me know what you think!

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, lightsaber and blaster wounds, alcohol consumption, war and the implications of it, gets a little steamy but no smut, reader has nightmares, misuse of the Force, Rewriting the Rise of Skywalker a lil bit…

Word Count: 82.7k total (Split into four approximately 20k chunks)

Reader Is: 24, a Jedi, a Princess, has butterfly wings

Vol 1. | Vol 2. | Vol 3. | Vol 4.

Charms in Trees

A few small battles came and went. It was pilot stuff, mostly. They’d go, blow up a First Order transport, and be back in time for dinner. You always offered your help, but it was never needed. Still, you’d take any excuse to go see Poe, especially in that orange jumpsuit. You weren’t sure what it was about it, but you couldn’t get enough of it.

Sometimes you thought about taking it off of him.

It was a growing problem, your little unspoken thing. You’d forgotten just how all-encompassing a crush could be, especially when it was as attainable as the one sitting in front of you right now. You shared a base, lived just down the hall from him. Maker, you could feel that he felt the same way about you, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to shatter the normalcy.

Part of you wanted him to do it, finally take that leap of faith. You were patient. You could wait.

So you did.

Supplies began to dwindle, so you put on a utility uniform and went with some of the others to get more, lifting boxes with your arms instead of your mind. You helped Aspen and some of the other mechs with repairs. You spent time with Soren, both training and not. He was fun to hang out with, a funny guy. Had your sense of humor.

He told you that Laesynda had taken him out to Mariposas a few times when he was growing up. They’d leave flowers outside your pod, light a candle for a while and tell stories. It was haunting, almost, the funerals people held for you despite the fact that you weren’t dead.

Poe had been refurbishing an old X-Wing in his free time, which wasn’t very much to begin with. Leia had been upping his responsibilities, clearly bracing for something. Whether it was an attack or a defensive move, you couldn’t tell, but it had him stressed out.

On a beautiful afternoon, you looked for him in the hangar, armed with some baked goods. BB-8 chirped to welcome you and Poe kicked a shelf in shock, a toolbox teetering for a moment before it started its descent straight on top of him. You caught it in mid-air. The tools floated out of the box, your arm outstretched, heart racing. You set them all down gently, safely away from that pretty face of his.

“Didn’t mean to scare you, Dameron. Came here with a peace offering.”

“Peace offering?” He asked, rolling himself out from under the X-Wing. He peeled his work gloves off, dusting himself off as best as he could.

It looked pretty close to finished, you noted, looking it over. It would need a paint job, of course, but all of the major parts seemed to be accounted for.

“Finn said you’ve been in a mood lately…” You admitted. “Figured I’d bring you something to take your mind off it.”

He grinned, looking at the gift and then up at you. There it was, that infamous flyboy grin of his. “Sunshine, you’re all I need to take my mind off of it. But these are appreciated, too.”

Your heart fluttered at the nickname, handing him the container of sweets. “How’s it going in here? It looks good.”

“Thanks. Should be done soon.” He reported, busting into the box and biting into the sweet, berry-filled tart. “And then we’ll really be in business.”

“I’m sorry about your other one, by the way. I feel partially responsible for that.”

“It wasn’t my first. I knew it wouldn’t be my last.” He chuckled. “At least it got to go out with a bang.”

“And some flames, as well. It was on fire, last I saw it.”

“I am glad I got to take you for a spin in it, though. Think I could get you into this new one sometime?”

“I’m always down for a joyride.” You told him, eyes sparkling, words sincere. “Let me know when it’s done and I can try to fit you into my busy Jedi princess schedule.”

“You’re serious.”

“Always.” You nodded. “I’ve been wanting to spend more time with you.”

He pouted, gazing at you through those dark lashes, a little bit of fruit filling stuck to the corner of his stupidly pink lips. His tongue poked out to get it, but failed. “Wish I’d known that a week ago, I would have carved out more time.”

“Don’t worry about it, Commander.” You said, resting a hand against his chest. You reached up with the other hand, gently wiping corner of his lips. “I know you’re busy, too.”

He held your hand against his cheek, meeting your eyes. “Not too busy for you, your Highness.”

“Good.” You replied, thumb gently stroking his stubble.

He turned his face, pressing a soft kiss to the pad of your thumb. He met your eyes, gaze all innocent despite the way your cheeks were flushing. “Did you get it?”

“I did.” You nodded, making a speedy recovery. “Couldn’t let the best pilot in the Resistance walk around with jam on his face, could I?”

“Well, thank you, for the treats, for sparing my reputation, all of it.” His eyes scanned down your face as you finally removed your hand from the side of his. “You got anything going on today, (Y/N)?”

“Training.”

“Mmm. What time?”

“Soon.” You said, glancing at the watch around your wrist. It had been Luke’s, Leia had given it to you. “About fifteen minutes.”

“Could you move that panel for me real quick?” He asked, pointing up at the wing of his X-Wing, where a patch of machinery was exposed, a heavy piece of sheet metal leaning up against it.

“Oh yeah. Absolutely.”

He set his box of tarts on the workbench and rolled a ladder over to the X-Wing while you lifted the wing cover into place, arms out in front of you, the heavy piece floating in mid-air. He stopped and watched for a second, chuckling to himself.

“What?”

“Still getting used to it, is all.” He confessed, gently pushing the piece into place, where you held it until he started bolting it into place. “This thing weighs like two hundred pounds, and you just…You’re amazing. You know that?”

“You think that’s cool, you should see what I can do with some pretty hefty rocks.”

He glanced over his shoulder at you, the whir of his wrench stopping. “Oh I’m sure it’s phenomenal.”

“Anything else you need while I’m here?”

He shook his head. “I’m all set. Good luck with training. I hope you…you know, move things good.”

“I’ll certainly try.” You chuckled, turning and leaving the hangar.

Over and over in your head, you watched him turn his face and press the gentlest kiss to your thumb. You may have been the one with wings, but he was always the one that gave you butterflies.

***

Your final bits of training that day just so happened to be wing-centric. That morning, you’d flitted from tree to tree, hanging metal charms in the branches with lengths of twine. Rey had been given some other independent activities to work on, but it was clear you and Soren had some ground to cover, or…not cover, flight being the main objective here.

The two of you stared up at them. He looked at you for instructions, but you simply repeated what you’d already said.

“Go get them.”

“What, with the Force?”

“Nope. We’ve been using the Force for hours. Time to stretch those wings, little prince.”

He laughed. “I don’t think I’ve ever been up that high before.”

“That’s why I need you to be comfortable with it. If you go about it the right way, you can get some serious height. More, if you strengthen your wings with practice and exercise, and more yet if you use the Force for a little boost.”

“Could you…show me?”

You chuckled, hands on your hips, looking up, up, up at the charms. Yeah, that would definitely be a bit daunting if it was your first time flying. “Sure. I’m not gonna cut them down, though, because I’ll have to go up there and hang them all again.”

You spread your wings, shaking the accumulated dust and humidity collected on them from Ajan Kloss’ temperate ecosystem. And then you took off, running at a stump on the ground and using it as a springboard, wings carrying you to the first branch, where you hit the hanging charm sending it swinging.

You flipped from the first branch to the next, a few feet higher, touching that charm before heading to the next, and the next. You were like a dancer, graceful, fluid, gliding from branch to branch, using your limited flight to climb until you were near the top of the highest tree in your training grounds. You took a moment to look out at the camp, admire the Resistance crew bustling from building to building, doing their daily tasks to keep your movement up and running.

And then, doing one last somersault, you dove down, catching yourself with your wings and a burst of air, kicking up the leaves scattered on the forest floor.

Soren stared with wide eyes, Rey having joined him on the ground.

“And you expect me to do…that?”

“Not all of it.” You assured him. “That last jump is definitely something you’ll have to build towards. It’s a leap of faith. But that’s why I’m here, to catch you if the landing isn’t going so smooth.”

“Alright.” He nodded. “I can try.”

“Do or do not. There is no try.” You said, the words familiar, even if they weren’t yours. Sometimes the Force spoke through you; you could feel that this was one of those times. “Aim for five charms today. Any more than that and I’ll be impressed.”

Soren looked up at the first charm, on a low, sturdy branch, deceptively close to the ground. Like you did, he took off at a run, using his wings to get some height and land–somewhat shakily–on the branch, but he did it, youthful face breaking into a grin.

“There you go!” You encouraged, Rey smiling as she watched.

“It’s really great, what you’re doing with him.” Rey said, voice sincere. She reached for your hand and you gave it to her, just as you had that very first day you met. Long ago, you and Leia had shared a sisterhood, and now you shared that with Rey.

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

“I hope so. He’s…well, he’s my first Padawan. After you, of course, but you had a head start.”

“I wish you had been here when all of this started,” she confessed, squeezing your hand. “It would have been…nice to know I wasn’t alone in this.”

“You’re not alone.” You told her. “A long time ago…I was meditating, trying to find other Jedi out there. Luke and I thought we were alone, too. I found someone, another Jedi, a young woman. The Force works in mysterious ways, of course, because…it was you. You wouldn’t be born for another, what, eleven years? But I know it was you. We were meant to be here. I was meant to help you and…I plan on doing that. No matter what.”

Rey smiled, words failing her. She pulled you into her arms instead, resting her head against yours. You hugged her back, rubbing comforting circles in her shoulders.

“You know, I’ve always wanted a sister.” She admitted with a laugh, tears in her eyes.

“Well now you’ve got one.”

“I got seven charms, Aunt (Y/N).” Soren said, dangling them from their strings when you turned to look.

“How was the landing?”

“A little shaky, but…” He shrugged and then looked back up at the next charm, even higher than the last. “I think I could get another one.”

“Go ahead. Round two.” You encouraged, motioning him up into the tree.

Finn and Poe walked over not long after, chatting animatedly about something, BB-8 rolling alongside them. It was clear, even from that distance, that Finn was teasing him.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

“She getting you up there next, Rey?” Finn asked, pointing up at the trees, where Soren had very clearly already gotten the hang of it, throwing a few flips and flourishes into his movements. You grinned, proud.

“Oh, no, I don’t think so.” Rey shook her head. “I will after you do.”

“Fair enough.” Finn chuckled. “How’s it going, ladies?”

“Good. Really good. Good, productive day today.” You said.

“Good view up there?” Poe asked, shielding his eyes as he glanced up at the highest branch, a glittering charm still hanging from a thread.

“Great view.” You said.

“I thought you said you could only cover short distances, that looks like quite a height.”

“You have to build up to it.” You told him, pointing to all the shorter branches on the way up to that point. “I can’t just fly straight up there. Maybe with some strength training, but these things aren’t what they used to be.” You gave them a flutter, noting the way his eyes caught on them yet again.

“Well, it looked great, from what I could see.”

“That’s high praise coming from you, flyboy.”

“Well, from one flyer to another…you’re a natural. Literally. You were born to be up there, doing that.”

You smiled, voice soft and sincere when you said, “So were you.”

“That means a lot, (Y/N).” He said, head turning downwards for a moment while he thought. “Anyway, uh, Finn and I were wondering if the two of you would join us at the cantina later? Rose’ll be there, too. Things have been so tense lately, we thought we could all blow off some steam.”

“I’d love to.”

Rey nodded. “Yeah, me too.”

“Just let me get changed into something more casual.” You said, flourishing the skirts of your Jedi robes.

“What, the robes aren’t fit for a night on the town?”

“The robes aren’t fit for…much other than looking solemn and kicking ass.” You said with a chuckle. “Unlike your flight suit, which is fit for any occasion.”

“Back to that, huh?” Poe grinned, letting out a laugh. “If you really like that thing so much, maybe I’ll wear it more often.”

You smirked. “I wouldn’t complain.”

“I would.” Finn chuckled. “It needs a good wash, buddy.”

“Alright, alright.”

You watched as Soren landed once again, wings powerful, stance strong. You gave him a nod, pride blossoming in your chest. He was getting there after all. Your training was working. You just hoped that, when danger came, he’d be ready for it.

You hoped you all would be.

Cards on the Table

You sat in your quarters with Rose and Rey, getting ready for your night out with the boys. You braided a few strands of your hair, tying them off with small gold rings at the end.

“This one?” Rey asked, holding the dress up against her frame, a sage green color. It was one of the ones you’d given her.

You nodded. “That color suits you. Brings out your eyes.”

Rey considered your words for a moment before beginning to change. Rose sat at your desk, looking through the accessories you’d pulled out. You plucked a pair of earrings from the collection, setting them in her palm.

“Are you sure? I’ve never worn a princess’ earrings before.” Rose said, staring at them. They were a pair of gold, dangling leaves. They’d go with the blouse she was wearing, a natural pattern on them.

“First time for everything.” You said with a shrug, turning your attention to your own outfit. A wine-colored top with a corset front, the back swooping just low enough for your wings. With it, you’d paired some dark brown pants with flared legs, a decorative gold belt made of metal hoops. You tucked your lightsaber into your bag, instead of displaying it at your hip.

“Oh this…” Rey struggled with the back of her dress. “I can’t get it to stay closed.”

“Here, let me.” You walked over and pulled ribbons from the sides of the dress, tying it closed above the large divot for where your wings went when you had worn it. “I sewed these in for Leia. She and I shared a closet during the Rebellion, more or less.”

Rey’s eyes scanned down her reflection, hands smoothing out the green fabric. “Thank you.”

“You look great.” You told her, words warm and reassuring. “You both do.”

“So do you!” Rose complimented.

A few minutes later, you decided you were ready, not that there was any pressure to be. This was just Finn and Poe you were talking about after all. But you had a feeling quite a few other members of the Resistance crew would be there.

The three of you arrived and it felt like time stopped. Poe and Finn were in a round booth in the corner and they both looked up, faces lit with anticipation at the sight of you. It felt good to be wearing something other than your robes or your standard Resistance gear, a luxury you did not take lightly.

They stood up and crossed the room, meeting you somewhere in the middle. Poe was wearing that leather jacket of his, the one you’d mistaken him for Han Solo in. Beneath it, a button-up that seemed to be missing a few buttons. You swore he was doing it on purpose.

“Hey, Princess.” He grinned. “Glad you made it.”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

Several Resistance folks milled about, dancing, playing games. A few droids manned the bar, where there were paper lanterns strung from the support beams, casting the room in warm, ambient light.

The five of you shimmied back into the booth, Poe going almost out of his way to make sure he got the seat next to yours, right on the end. His arm settled on the seat behind you, that strong sandalwood scent drifting from his pulse point. Maker, you could get lost in it.

When the droid taking drink orders came around, you each requested something, settling in for a nice, casual night.

A song you recognized came over the speakers in the corners of the room and you smiled. It was familiar. A place like this, people like these.

The more things changed…

“I requested some oldies for you.” Poe confessed, just about causing your heart to melt. “Thought it’d remind you of the good old days.”

“He put ten whole credits in the jukebox.” Finn tattled, earning a pointed look from the pilot. “Stood there forever picking out songs.”

“Well that was very sweet.” You said, leaning a little closer to him subconsciously. “Not to sound incredibly old, but the new music is still…growing on me, we’ll say.”

“How old were you?” Finn asked. “I’m sorry if that’s rude. I don’t think we’ve ever asked.”

“I’m twenty-four. I’ll be twenty-five in…well, I don’t know when my birthday falls now. Four months? Three months? Something like that. Give or take thirty years, of course.”

“You’re younger than me.” Poe murmured, almost in shock of the fact.

He’d taken it for granted, he guessed, just how young you were when they’d put you in that pod. But you’d existed his entire life, etched into legends and stories told by anyone who remembered the war. To him, you’d existed forever. But he was older than you, by eight years.

“Were you…alive when I was?” You asked, running the numbers in your mind.

“I’m thirty-two.” He said, meeting your eyes. There was an odd look in them, like he was asking permission for something. He chuckled, covering the flash of insecurity with a smirk and a quip. “I know I hardly look it.”

“You would have been really young, then.” You bit your lip, letting out a little laugh at the new information. The whole situation was ridiculous. You doubted your paths had ever crossed, so it didn’t matter, ultimately, but still. “That is a little weird.”

“It is.” Poe agreed, eyes still ever-searching yours for some sign that it was still okay, the feelings floating around his heart.

“That means you really are the Han of the group.” You said, in an attempt to diffuse the tension that had blossomed in his chest. It worked. You could feel it instantly. “He was like thirty and the rest of us were in our twenties.”

“Does that make you Leia this time?” Rey asked, catching your eyes, a spark of mischief in her gaze. She knew exactly what she was implying.

“I think it does. Which means you get to be me this time. Congratulations, you are now a princess. Use the title well.” You joked, sitting back against the cushioned bench, also, coincidentally, against Poe’s arm, which was still there, perched on the leather. Warmth emanated from him, both literally and figuratively.

Eventually, the drinks came and you took a few sips of yours, loosening up. You all chatted and joked and laughed. Eventually, Rey and Rose got up to dance with the mechs over on the dance floor. Finn followed behind them.

Jessika spotted you and motioned you over, a broad grin on her face. Beside her was Aspen. Snap was there, too. They were hanging out near the holodart board mounted to the wall.

“Wanna play some darts?” Poe smirked, following your eyeline.

“If you’re ready to get your ass kicked, sure.” You teased, getting out of the booth after him and walking over to where his friends were waiting.

“You look great, girl!” Jessika said. “Give us a spin.”

You did a little twirl, showing off the top, the pants, the accessories. Your wings fluttered behind you like a cape, folded down and out of the way, as they always were.

“Dameron said he was gonna try to get you out here tonight.” Snap said, jostling his buddy’s shoulder. “Glad you joined us.”

“Do you guys do this often?”

“Not often enough.” Aspen said with a laugh, perched criss-cross on a barstool. “But our schedules have us all wound up tighter than a drum. I think we all needed to let off some steam.”

“How have things been for you guys? Missions running smoothly?”

“As ever.” Jessika said. “Thanks, of course, to our fearless commander.”

“Stop, stop, you’re too kind.” Poe said, playfully brushing off his shoulder. “It helps that I have the best team in the galaxy at my disposal.”

Snap motioned you closer, handing you a glowing dart. “Alright, enough chitchat. I want the Jedi on my team.”

“That is not fair.” Poe protested immediately. “It’s only fair if she’s on my team.”

“Sorry, Poe, I’ve been spoken for.” You shrugged, throwing the dart and landing in the outer ring of the bullseye.

Snap’s face lit up and he high-fived you.

“That’s gotta be cheating.” Jessika said, looking to Aspen, who was serving, apparently, as the referee. Pilots took their holodarts very seriously, after all. “Ref, tell her she’s cheating.”

“No, if I was cheating, it would look like this.” You took a second dart from Snap, covered your eyes with one hand, and threw the dart, using the Force to pull it through an exaggerated loop-de-loop on its way to the board, where it hit dead on in the center. You lowered your hand and shrugged innocently. “I just genuinely have pretty decent aim, as hard as it is to believe.”

“She’s pretty and she’s got a sense of humor. You’re a goner, Dameron.” Snap said, elbowing him while you were distracted, laughing with Aspen and Jessika.

Poe chuckled, crossing his arms, eyes teeming with tenderness. “Believe me, pal, I know.”

***

The night went on. You had a few more drinks, toeing the line between tipsy and drunk, but not quite getting all the way there. You and Poe continued to dance around each other, but he didn’t make a move. Well, any further than he already had. But after watching him interact with some of his friends, you’d come to realize that he was a touchy guy. It was definitely his love language.

You sang some songs at the karaoke machine in the corner of the room, sharing the stage with Rose, who had a really good voice, as it turned out.

At the end of the evening, when the crowd began to dwindle, Poe walked you back to your quarters. You, somewhat clumsily, punched in your code, the doors sliding open smoothly. You lingered in the doorway, turning to look at him.

“Thanks for taking me out, Dameron.” You said, breaking the warm silence that threatened to swallow your moment. “I had a great time.”

“Thanks for coming. I, uh…” He reached for your hand and you gave it to him, letting him fiddle with your fingers. It was comforting, his touch. You doubted you’d ever tire of the feeling of those calloused palms against yours. “If you were serious about that joyride…I’m taking it up tomorrow. Little test-drive, checking perimeters. Two porgs, one stone, you know. It’ll still be a tight fit, if that’s alright.”

“Well we both know I have no problem with getting close to you, Dameron.” You teased, giving his hand a squeeze. “What time are you picking me up?”

“After breakfast? Or…well, whenever works. I know you’re busy.”

You nodded, eyes glimmering. “After breakfast works.”

You could feel it again, that warmth sweltering in Poe’s chest. That desire laced deep in his eyes. He was thinking about kissing you. The fantasy playing out in your mind, you weren’t sure if it was yours or his, at this point.

Him, grabbing you by the hip, burying a hand in your hair, kissing you fiercely, passionately, lips exploring every inch of your own. Hungrily. Like he’d been waiting for it. You heard the way his breath hitched, felt his large, warm hand wander further up your back, towards the base of your wings as he kissed you. Cards on the table, heart on his sleeve.

But he didn’t. Didn’t move, aside from giving your hand another squeeze.

You smiled at him, still reeling from the images that had just flashed through your mind, but doing your best to hide the way your heart was racing. “It’s a date.”

These Haunted Wounds

You woke with a start not long after you drifted off. An hour or two at most. Nightmares. Figured.

This time, it was about a different saber. A red one, two little offshoots on the side of the hilt. It looked dangerous. Poorly constructed, if you were honest. One wrong move and the wielder would slice their own hand off by mistake.

No, the scary part was the guy wielding it. Long, foreboding figure, black cloak that drifted in the wind. He wore a mask over his face, voice deepened by a modulator of some kind. It brought back memories in all the wrong ways.

Despite the fact that you hadn’t seen him yet, didn’t know what he looked like, you could just tell. This was Kylo Ren. Had to be. That type of energy could only come from someone who was trying his damndest to stand in the shadow of Darth Vader, an entity you were still all too familiar with.

Luke had made his peace with the guy. You had never gotten that opportunity.

Kylo swished his cape and from his shadow came Insidia, still haunting you after all these years. She plunged her saber into your heart, the pain scorching and real, a scream tearing itself from your throat, and that was when you woke in a cold sweat.

You sat there, hands shaking, heart racing, collecting yourself before trying to lay down to sleep again. Just as you were about to lay back down, there was a knock on your door. Eyebrows furrowing, you swung your legs out of the bed, crossing the room and opening the door with a click of a button on the wall panel.

Poe was standing there in his sweatpants, panting, armed with a piece of a pipe. It was clear he’d run there. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“Huh?” You asked, rubbing at your bleary eyes. You stopped, staring at his bare, toned chest for maybe too long before meeting his gaze. “I’m fine.”

He lowered the pipe. “Oh. I heard screaming.”

Had you screamed out loud? Maybe you had. Maybe you’d projected it on accident, through the Force.

“It was just a nightmare.” You reassured him. You chuckled when you looked at the pipe hanging from his grip. “Nice.”

“Hey, I could do some real damage with this thing.” He defended, giving it a test swing to demonstrate.

“Oh I bet.” You gave a tired smile, let out a sigh, that spot in your chest burning, where Insidia had stabbed you in this dream.

She’s dead. You reminded yourself. She can’t hurt me anymore because she’s dead.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Same old.” You shrugged. “Stabbed with a lightsaber this time. Right through the chest.”

He frowned, nodding. “Is there anything I can do?”

“I’ll be okay.” You promised him. “But thank you for rushing to my rescue. Very daring of you, Commander.”

“Any time.” 

You could feel that he wanted to stay. But you could tell he wasn’t going to ask. Ever the gentleman in the presence of a princess. It was kind of refreshing. You smiled at him. “Get some sleep, flyboy. See you in the morning.”

“You too. Goodnight.” He smiled. He held up the pipe in his hand. “I better go put this back.”

You laughed, watching as he walked back down the hallway. He glanced back at you, meeting your eyes before returning to the room he shared with Finn.

A soft smile pulled at your lips and you lingered in the hallway for a moment before closing your door and walking back to your bunk. You sat there, wondering what it would have been like if you asked him to stay. It wasn’t that you didn’t want him to, but…maybe there was a reason he was waiting.

Maybe he was waiting until after the war to get attached. That would be smart. You knew so many during the Rebellion who did just that. 

Some hashed everything out in the heat of the war, sure. It was hard to get comfortable. It was hard to know which base would be your last, which fight would end it all. Some people chased comfort, wanting to get close to each other while they had the chance.

But others wanted to wait, to make sure they were going to make it to see the peace after the war, and whatever relationship, whatever life awaited them after.

You rolled onto your side, staring at the wall. You wonder if he knew the way he had his hand wrapped around your heart, a little X-Wing orbiting it around and around.

Tomorrow, you promised yourself. Tomorrow you’d say something, up in the X-Wing with him. Arms around you, chest pressed against your back, legs tangled in the cockpit. And one way or the other, you’d finally have your answer.

This time, when you fell asleep, the only thing you dreamt of were his lips.

The Crash

The next morning, Poe met you and the others for breakfast, already dressed in his orange jumpsuit, the collar flipped open. You could not keep the smile off your face at the sight.

“I can’t believe this is really what does it for you.” He laughed, drunk off the look in your eyes.

“It suits you.” You said, eyes lingering on the collar, fighting the urge to reach out and fix it. You rummaged around your mind for some quip to fire back, but came up empty. He’d stolen the words right from your mouth.

The group of you finished eating and Poe cleared your plate, leading you towards the hangar. 

“I don’t have it painted yet, but the mechs checked over it yesterday and gave me the okay.” Poe explained.

“So we’re not going to crash, is what you’re saying.”

“Not with a Jedi on board.” He said, eyes meeting yours. “I still think about that transport you caught. I didn’t know you could just…do that.”

“Took a while to get to that point. Ships are heavy. It helps if I’m not fighting the trajectory. Laesynda’s ship was on its way down, I just…cushioned the fall.” You explained.

“You’re real humble for a Jedi, you know.”

“You think so?”

“More humble than I would be if I could lift spacecrafts with my mind.”

“Oh I’m aware, flyboy. If you were out here with a lightsaber, none of us would ever hear the end of it.” You teased, looking over his flightsuit, still enamored. “You’re already an ace pilot, you can’t possibly have all the skills.”

He opened his mouth to retort, but was cut off by the harsh blare of a distress signal. The two of you looked at each other before booking it to the strategy table, where Leia was, hand still over the button.

“It’s one of our settlements. First Order troops on the ground, TIE fighters.” She made eye contact with you, Rey running into the room right after. “Kylo is with them.”

She dispatched groups of fighters, sent you and Rey and sent out the Black Squadron. Poe marched through the hangar, yelling orders, getting his team ready for battle. You forced your eyes away from him as he loaded BB-8 into his X-Wing, strapped your saber to your belt, and loaded onto a transport with Rey and Finn.

Soren walked over, saber at the ready. You stopped him with a shake of your head, something akin to a maternal look in your eye. “I need you here. It’s just Kylo. Rey and I can handle him.”

“I’m ready.”

“I know you are.” You said, hands on his shoulders. “That’s why I need you here. Someone’s gotta protect the base.”

He nodded, understanding. He took a few steps back, standing with the others as they saw you all off.

You made eye contact with Poe, one last lingering glance before he climbed into the cockpit and took off into the sky, blasting off at lightspeed with the rest of his squadron to clear way for your transport.

The ramp of the transport closed and Finn looked at you. “He’s like you. Soren.”

“Reckless?” You asked.

He shook his head, eyes serious and warm. “Brave.”

You smiled at the thought and put a hand on Finn’s arm. “So are you.”

The ride was short, but shaky. You didn’t like turbulence, especially in a craft that only had thin, tiny windows. It left you uneasy. But eventually, you touched down, saber in hand, leading the charge with Rey.

There were dozens of Stormtroopers, opening fire on not only the scattered Resistance members, but any civilians they could get their hands on. You put yourself between them, deflecting their shots with a few swings of the saber. The fighters that had come with you ran out of the ship, assessing the situation and adjusting as quickly as possible.

In the air, a battle had broken out as well, X-Wings and TIE fighters firing at each other, as well as the ground below them. You tried to identify which ship was Poe’s. You could feel him up there, but it was hard to get a lock. All you knew was that it was a black ship, an orange stripe painted down the side. Black Squadron.

Another trooper shot at you you and you shifted into battle mode. You used the Force to mow over a row of troopers, pushing them onto their backs in the dirt and leaving them scrambling to get back to their feet. One came at you with a melee weapon, electrified, but you did away with it quickly, using the Force to throw him at a tank, the force of it taking out the canon with a loud explosion.

More troopers focused their aim on you and quickly met the same fate.

Overhead, an X-Wing twirled around, almost drifting through the air and taking out one, two, three TIE fighters in quick succession, firing at a cluster of troopers on the ground immediately after. That had to be Poe.

Another turret fired near the civilians and you ran towards it, using your wings to get some height and jumping up the length of it, burying your saber in the metal paneling on the side and riding it back down to the ground as it was destroyed in a cloud of fire and smoke.

Finn ushered civilians to safety, taking out any troopers that got close with a well-placed blast. Rey worked with you to take out the remaining turrets, keeping the troopers at bay as more of them unloaded from landing transports.

You heard a boom overhead and looked, hoping to see a TIE fighter on its way down, but instead catching sight of an X-Wing, black and orange, one of its engines engulfed in flames.

You reached up and caught it with the Force, directing it away from the thick trees it was aimed towards and turning the nose, bringing it down gently in a clearing of grass and dirt, away from the immediate violence on the sprawling battlefield. You didn’t have time to worry if it might be Poe climbing out of it. Didn’t even have time to think before you saw him.

Kylo Ren.

His saber glowed red, contrasting against the lush green of the planet you were standing on, his kyber crystal obviously damaged, the way its blade was flared. He’d forced it too hard, been too rough with it. Maybe that was why the offshoots were there, to redirect the excess energy.

He was dressed like a shadow, long and sleek, all in black, face covered up by that helmet. It was better that way. You were afraid of finding too much of your friends in his broken gaze. Leia. Han. In another life, you may have been something like an aunt to him. Now he stood in front of you, a monster. 

And he was headed right towards you, strides long and elegant.

“Mothim said you were awake, your Highness. It’s time to see if you really are the thing of legends.” He twirled his saber, voice distorted beyond anything human. An intimidation tactic, no doubt, in addition to the obvious imitation of one Darth Vader.

“Ah yes, my best friend’s biggest disappointment. I keep hearing about you, and I have to admit. You’re a lot taller than I expected.”

He raised his hand attempting to use the Force to…you weren’t sure. Grab you, choke you, but you had your shields up, always did, blocking out his attempt. “You’re good.”

“I have to be.” You replied, readying your saber, stretching out your neck.

He swung at you and you deflected, angling carefully to avoid the reach of the flares near the hilt of his saber. So that’s what they were for. One wrong move and it would be your hand he was slicing off. You countered, using your wings to spin into position, leveraging an attack that he dodged, his saber clashing loudly with your own.

“Tell me, did you really face Vader by yourself, or did you have Skywalker to help you?” He locked his saber with your own, mask uncomfortably close to your face. “Skywalker is dead now. I saw to that myself. I finished the work that Vader could not.”

You let out a cold laugh at that. “You’re not Vader. You’re not even close.”

That definitely pissed him off. He let out a strangled yell, running at you with full force. You dodged with a leap, spinning out of the way. He took the opportunity to take a swing at your wings, which flared in reply, flattening themselves out of his reach. Your foot swept through the dirt as you landed, breaking your somewhat clumsy fall.

That had been a targeted attack. Straight for the wings. Not your arm. Not your saber. Your wings.

Rey came over next, putting herself between the two of you, battling him with a rage you knew had to be personal. You could feel that they were connected. Always had been. There were layers here that you did not quite understand yet. But she still fought him, moves quick and deliberate and instinctual.

You jumped back in alongside her, red clashing against blue and pink, sparks flying. Some of the brush caught fire, but never fully ignited, instead filling the ground between you with smoke, partially obstructing the rest of the fight.

You landed a hit on his leg, slashing into the skin. Rey got him on the opposite arm and he let out a burst of Force energy that sent you both flying. You used your wings to recover, repositioning mid-air, an outstretched hand slowing Rey’s trajectory as well, just before the back of her head hit a tree.

“RETREAT!” Kylo screeched, his voice echoing through the trees, birds scattering at the loud, distorted cry.

You’d hurt him. Bad. You could see the blood pooling in the dirt as he stalked away.

The Stormtroopers and other forces retreated into the transports that hadn’t already been blown up. The remaining TIE fighters, few though there were, hopped to lightspeed. One of the X-Wings shot a few transports on their way into the atmosphere, but other than that, the fight was over.

You found Finn among the crowd, making sure he was uninjured. He was fine. There had been some injuries, but no casualties, even among the civilians, who were cheering and embracing, celebrating their safety for the moment.

You looked over at the crashed X-Wing, smoking at the edge of the field and ran over to it, wings carrying you farther and faster than you’d flown in years, just a handful of feet above the grass. You landed on one of the wings and used the Force to pop open the cockpit, the windshield cracked, the pilot still inside.

She tugged off her helmet, long brown hair cascading down her shoulders. Jessika. Not Poe.

You offered her a hand, helping her out. She looked up at you, awe in her eyes, her hand wrapping around yours. You used your wings to lower the both of you gently to the ground.

“Are you alright?”

“I swore I was going to crash. You…you saved my life.” She rushed into your arms and you held her, rocking her comfortingly. “How do I even begin to repay you for that?”

“You don’t. We’re all in this together.” You assured her, wiping some of the soot from her face with a gentle hand. “Now let’s get you back to base. I’m sure there’s lots of room for you on the transport.”

One of the Resistance members from the planet rushed over, putting out her smoking X-Wing engine with a fire extinguisher. “We’ll take care of this. Get it repaired as soon as possible.”

Jessika exchanged some words with the mech, arranging something of a plan to come get it before following you and the others back onto the transport.

“Are you alright?” You asked Rey, checking all your bases, counting faces and heads.

“I’m fine. Are you?”

“I’m good. He…I don’t know what he knows about Mariposans, but he was locked in on my wings.” You said, shivering at the thought. “Someone must have told him to aim there.”

“You think the First Order has a Mariposan?”

“Maybe.” You said. “He…he mentioned someone named Mothim. That’s…vaguely Mariposan-sounding.”

You watched the sky, the X-Wings rounding up. Jessika had her helmet tucked under her arm, which started talking, Poe’s voice coming through the headset. You could have cried with relief that he was alright.

“Pava, come in. Are you alive out there? We don’t have eyes on your X-Wing.”

“I’m alive, Black Leader. Boarding one of the transports on the ground. They hit me in the right wing, but one of the Jedi caught me on the way down.”

He chuckled and you could hear the smile in his voice when he said, “That is great news. We’ll see you back at base.”

You watched as the X-Wings took off, hitting lightspeed in rapid succession. Your own transport followed suit not long after, once everyone was accounted for and all the systems had been checked for damage. You breathed, focusing on the quiet until finally, the ship landed and the ramp lowered.

You walked out, surveying the crowd of celebrating rebels when you spotted BB-8 whirring at you at full speed, beeping a mile a minute. He looked you up and down and then sped away, straight to Poe, who looked down at him. His little head swivelled to you and back.

“(Y/N)!”

Poe sprinted over, pulling you into his arms the second he was close enough. He let out a long breath, his gloved hand cradling the back of your head as he held you. You wrapped your arms around him, resting your head against his shoulder, wings twitching before relaxing completely.

“You…you’re alright? I saw him go after you. I wanted to shoot, but I couldn’t get a clean shot.” He said, regret in his voice, guilt on his brow.

“I’m okay, Poe. Really.” You told him, pulling away for a moment to get a glimpse at his face, check him over for injuries. There was sweat dotted on his forehead, wetting the curls at the edge of his hairline. “I thought it was your ship coming down. I was so scared.”

He shook his head, taking a moment to peel off his gloves so he could touch your cheek with his hand, skin impossibly warm. He rested his forehead against yours, the movement familiar and comfortable. “You saved one of my pilots. I…just when I think you can’t possibly impress me more…”

You wanted to kiss him so badly. So, so badly. Just surge forward and collect his lips as he uttered his sweet, flattering words. You could tell he wanted it, too. That victory kiss.

“Poe…” You murmured, mouth impossibly close.

“I’m right here, baby.” He whispered in response, voice gentle, eyes soft. Sparkling with anticipation. “We’re okay.”

Your breath hitched at the petname, heart racing faster than his X-Wing. You repeated his words. “We’re okay.”

He nodded, closing his eyes for a moment. He took a long breath and then hooked an arm around your waist again, pulling you close as he pressed a long kiss to your cheek. He buried his face in your shoulder, inhaling what was left of your perfume, diluted, you were sure, by the smoke from the battle.

Mood lightening considerably once he’d processed that you were actually okay, that you’d won, that you and Rey had fought off Kylo Ren, he chuckled to himself, remembering your original  plans for the day.

“Sorry about our date, but…she’s probably gonna need some repairs before I take her up again.” He looked back at his X-Wing, untangling himself from you, but keeping an arm anchored around your waist, just beneath the base of your wings. It tickled, where his orange sleeve touched the soft tissue, but you didn’t dare move him.

BB-8 beeped up at him, agitated.

“I was careful, Bee, why do you think we’re standing here?”

He beeped something complimentary of your performance out in the battle.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.” He grinned, proud. “Really, you were awesome out there.”

“So were you, flyboy. I lost count of how many TIE fighters you took down. Are you sure you’re not Force sensitive?”

He smiled that prettyboy smile, reaching over to wipe some soot from your face, thumb moving deliberately, focused on one spot. “Pretty sure. I’ve just had a lot of practice.”

You saw Soren, ready to approach you, but giving you a minute with your pilot. You nodded at him, a promise that you’d be over there soon.

“I better check on my team. Make sure everyone’s in one piece.” Poe said, looking back towards the hangar where the pilots and mechs were conversing, figure out what all needed to be fixed after the skirmish. “Will, uh…would you grab dinner with me later? You know, since our date got rained out and all…”

You nodded, smiled at him. You put a hand on his cheek and guided him closer, pressing a kiss just beneath his scar. “Dinner sounds great. But when that ship is fixed, I better be first in line for that joyride you promised me.”

He laughed, nodding. “Absolutely, your Highness.”

You went your separate ways, his hand lingering on yours until the last possible second until you were finally pulled apart. And yet, as you met with the other members of the Resistance, talking over the battle, taking stock of everything, he was the only thing you could think of, the feeling of his lips still lingering against your cheek.

Vintage Diplomacy

After the battle, you spent the coming days doing strength training for your wings. Your flight across the ground had opened your eyes. If you could cover ground like that regularly, it could be lifesaving.

You’d spend mornings up in the clearing on the hill. Artoo found you up there once and asked what you were doing as you hovered, wings fluttering impossibly fast. You started with five second bursts, then ten, then twenty.

Artoo timed you, let you know when to stop. And that was how Poe found you one morning before a strategy meeting with the General, as well as her Admirals and Commanders. You’d been hovering for nearly a full minute, kicking up a small breeze in your wake.

You touched down when you saw him approaching, wings folding down with record speed as Artoo gave you the breakdown. Your longest yet. With more training, who knew? Maybe you could be the first Mariposan to rediscover the power of true flight. You could certainly hope.

You stretched out your back, hands on your hips stretching both ways. You hoped the soreness meant you were building muscle, if that was how that worked.

“Hey, Princess. Thought I might find you up here. You eat breakfast yet?”

“Yeah, I had something before I came out here.” You replied.

“Good. Meeting starts soon.”

“Thought so.” You glanced at your watch. “Shall we?”

“Lead the way.” He motioned. He was wearing a leather jacket you hadn’t seen on him yet. It was brown, a rebel patch on the shoulder. Definitely vintage.

“Cool jacket.”

“You like it?” He asked with a smirk.

“Yeah. Is it vintage?”

“It is, actually. Good eye.” He rested his hands on his belt buckle. “Not as vintage as you, of course, your Highness.”

“Hey!” You elbowed him and he elbowed you back, both of you laughing as you strode into the meeting together.

A few eyes caught you, knowing looks exchanged between the other assembled people. You said some hellos, exchanged the necessary pleasantries. You greeted your sister, who smiled warmly when she saw you and Poe walk in together.

You were sure after your little, uh, victory celebration out in the middle of the base, that everyone there must have thought you were dating behind closed doors.

You wished they were right.

Poe sat with the pilots, but you could feel his eyes on you as you mingled with the folks filing into the seats around you. Rey, as always, took the seat next to yours. On your other side, Soren. There was always a certain energy to the room when the Jedi were all together. People paid attention.

Before long, General Organa started the meeting. The main topic of interest: Resistance allies, or the lack thereof.

Since the battle at Crait, Leia had been trying to get in contact with anyone she could think of, friends new and old, anyone the Resistance had helped, but responses were few and far between. The First Order had done their best to silence or…eliminate anyone who wasn’t loyal to them.

“What we’re running low on is hope.” Leia said. “The people don’t think we stand a chance against the First Order. They’d rather hide in fear than stand up and fight. And if we don’t find some allies soon…it’s a matter of time before they take us out. We’re already running on scraps here.”

Chewbacca roared out his support.

“More outreach.” Another Admiral suggested. “The people saw what we did for them in the Endor system, that we stand up for them when it matters. Hell, we got twenty new recruits from that battle alone. When people see the difference we make, they want to fight with us.”

“I think our next move needs to be diplomacy, General. It’s been a while since we’ve had representatives at any events raising awareness.” Your sister reasoned. “How are they supposed to know we’re still here if they never see us?”

“But who would go?” Leia asked, scanning the room. “Diplomatic training hasn’t been very high on our regimen, I’m afraid.”

“I can go.” You volunteered. The eyes in the room fell on you quickly, like they’d been expecting you to say it. “The First Order already knows I’m alive, our allies should, too. They think we have one Jedi, we have three. I think that would spark quite a bit of hope, General. Besides, I have the diplomatic training and I never get to use it.”

She smiled, eyes sparkling. “I was hoping you’d say that. I did catch wind of a gala. It’s…mostly safe. Former Rebel sympathizers, a formal event. It would be as good a place as ever to make a debut. You’ll need a pilot of course, to–”

“I’ll go, General.” Poe volunteered before anyone else even had the chance. “I’ll escort the princess. It would be my honor.”

Leia gave a small, professional smile that you could tell she was all she could do to keep from laughing at the sheer speed with which he offered himself up for the mission. She thought about making him fight for it, and she knew he would. Poe Dameron was nothing if not stubborn, ambitious. It was why she respected him so much.

And at the same time, she knew exactly what would happen if she sent the two of you there, together. Alone.

Maybe it was about time.

“Great. Get packed. It’s tonight, three systems out. Take the Falcon.”

***

After the meeting, you went straight to your quarters, shuffling through your closet for anything…formal. You had a lot of Jedi robes, that was for sure, which might have suited an event like this in the olden days, before even your time, but now…all it would ensure was that you would stick out more than you already did.

“Thought I’d find you here.” Laesynda said, standing in the doorway. “I might have something that’ll work.”

You followed her to her quarters. She opened her wardrobe and pushed aside some clothes, reaching for something specific. She pulled it out with a flourish. A long, midnight blue gown. Off the shoulder. It glittered like stars and truly did look fit for a princess to wear. With it, she had a silver circlet, some silver Mariposan cuff bracelets.

“Mom’s…” You remembered, a hand drifting down the sparkling fabric.

Laesynda nodded. “I’ve been saving it for a special occasion. Maybe I knew you’d need it someday.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course. Now, let’s get you dressed. Sounds like you have a flight to catch.”

Laesynda helped you into the gown, adjusting the flowing fabric so it sat just so, helping to slip your wings through the slot sewn in specifically for them. It was nice, wearing Mariposan garb again, something you didn’t have to adjust in order to wear comfortably.

She put your hair in a simple style, braiding the front pieces back, setting the circlet on your head. You put on the cuffs, put on a silver belt and strapped your saber to it, the final piece of the puzzle. The metal tones clashed, but maybe that was okay. It would stand out, at the very least.

“How do I look?”

“Like a princess.” She replied, a hand reaching out to touch your face. “And like Mom.”

You couldn’t help but tear up a little bit when she said it. She carefully tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, giving a final nod. You were ready.

You stopped back into your room, packed a bag with some essentials. Among your things, you found your wooden box of Rebel memorabilia. Pins, cuff links, a pair of dangling silver earrings. You tucked it into the bag as well, along with another change of clothes for after the party. As gorgeous as the gown was, you doubted you’d want to be in it all night. You knew how these kinds of parties went. They were long and socially exhausting. You’d be longing for those Resistance standard sweatpants at the end of it.

There was a knock on the doorframe, your door still open. You expected it to be Laesyndra, having forgotten something. Instead, it was Poe, holding a garment bag that you assumed contained his formal wear.

“Tried to get the General let me take my flight suit out for ya, but she wasn’t having it. You ready for–” He stared, voice dropping off once he spotted you, dressed in a dazzling, midnight gown. “Oh. Wow…”

“Ready for…?” You raised an eyebrow, walking closer with slow strides.

“For takeoff?” He asked, Adam’s apple bobbing, eyes half-lidded. “Chewie warmed up the Falcon for us.”

You smiled warmly, nodding. “All packed, Commander. Ready when you are.”

“Perfect. Right. Well, let’s…” He offered his arm and you took it, slipping your arm through his, your bag slung over the other shoulder.

You gave his bicep a playful squeeze, laughter bubbling out of your painted lips. “Loth-cat got your tongue, Dameron? It’s just me.”

He let out a chuckle, meeting your eyes. “That’s the problem, your Highness.”

This Changes Everything

Your friends saw you off, complimenting you endlessly. Rey and Rose demanded you twirl around, showing off the look, which you gladly did.

“You look dazzling, Princess.” Threepio complimented, giving a little bow, arms poised at their odd angles.

“Thank you, Threepio. It was my mother’s.” You said, a sad, proud glimmer in your eye. Poe caught it immediately.

Artoo came with, but otherwise, it was just you and Poe in that big ship. He put in the coordinates, lifted off the planet, and put it into hyperdrive, with you in the passenger seat. Once it was on autopilot, you were free to move around the cabin.

Poe took his garment bag from one of the other seats and moved towards one of the Falcon’s tiny bed cabins to change. In the meantime, you found a mirror and put in a pair of earrings from your box of Rebel trinkets. They were the Rebellion’s symbol, silver and dangling from tiny chains. They completed the look.

Poe emerged a few minutes later, wearing a dark blue formal tunic, dramatic diagonal trim highlighting his shoulders. It was paired with matching navy pants, some black loafers with silver buckles.

“There was a hat, too, but I thought it would be too much.” He said, standing stiff while you looked him over, eyes roving his figure.

“Covering hair like that would be a crime, I think.” You told him, earning a chuckle and that dashing smile.

Your eyes lingered on the ends of his sleeves and you dug around in your box until you found a pair of cufflinks. You walked over to him, grabbing his hand and inserting one of the cufflinks into the end of his sleeve.

“Where’d you get this stuff?” He asked, watching your careful movements as you switched sleeves, putting the other one in as well.

“I’ve had it. Held onto it after the war. Figured we’d wear them to…charity events or something.” You shrugged. You rummaged around the box for a lapel pin, focused as you pinned it to one side of his tunic, straightening it with a quick movement. “Never thought we’d need them for war fundraising, but here we are…”

“My parents were Rebels, you know.” He confessed, voice soft, eyes softer. He’d been holding onto it, unsure why he’d never found the opportunity to tell you until now. Maybe he was afraid the information would shift your already teetering dynamic.

“Hence the jacket.” You noted, meeting his gaze, fingers still lingering on the pin. The wheels turned in your head and your jaw dropped, finally seeing it in his face. Those brows. That nose. Those eyes. “You’re…you’re Kes Dameron’s kid.”

He chuckled and nodded, eyes sparkling. “Yeah. I am. You knew him?”

“I did know him.” You laughed to yourself shaking your head. “Maker, I can’t believe I didn’t put those pieces together. He worked with Han and the pathfinders. I worked with Leia. It was kind of inevitable that our paths crossed. He was a great guy.”

“Is a great guy.” He said. “He still lives on Yavin. That’s where I grew up.”

You hummed, nodding. “That’s really good news, Poe. I’d…I’d love to see him sometime.”

“I’m sure he’d love to see you when all of this is over.” He said, eyes softening when he spoke of home, of family. “Mom was a pilot. Maybe you knew her. Her name was Shara.”

You gasped softly. “You’re…you’re Shara’s son? Shara Bey?”

Poe nodded, smiling. “I am.”

“Poe…I…” You teared up, studying him, dividing his features in your head, which had come from Shara, from Kes. You touched his face, laughed sadly, happy memories bubbling to the surface. “Shara was…so special. She was my bunkmate on Hoth. She and I kept watch together twice a week. We ate lunch together almost every day. We shared wine bottles at parties. I…I always thought there was something going on between her and Kes, but they kept it very professional. Didn’t know they were engaged until after the war.”

Poe got a little misty, nostalgia swirled in his warm brown eyes.

“We don’t have to talk about it, I’m sorry…”

He shook his head, taking your hand and kissing the back of it. “You were there. I always forget you were there. I can’t believe you knew them…”

“Maker, I could tell you so many stories…”

“I want you to. I want to hear all about them when we get home.”

“Okay.” You nodded, shedding a single tear that he was quick to wipe away, pulling you into a hug instead.

He pressed a long kiss to the crown of your head, arms tight around your shoulders, yours wrapped around his middle. You listened to his heart, hammering away beneath his tunic. You felt his lips on your forehead again, lingering for longer this time before he rested his head against yours, swaying slightly with you in his hold.

Eventually, Artoo rolled into the room, beeping to let you know you were getting close.

“Thank you, Artoo.”

He complimented Poe’s pin with a series of beeps and Poe grinned and thanked him.

“Here, I’ve probably got a magnet in here you can wear.” You said, rummaging through your box until you found one. You knelt down and he rolled forward, letting you stick it to one of his panels.

He beeped and whirred in approval, asking how he looked.

“You look very sharp.” You assured him. “You fit right in, now.”

Poe wandered into the cockpit, standing between the back row of seats, watching as the stars flew by at lightspeed. You stepped in after him and he wrapped an arm around your shoulders without a second thought.

He was your pilot, you were his princess. That was all that mattered. You rested your head against him, watching the stars.

***

The gala was being held at a nice hotel, chandeliers glimmering above, painted portraits hanging on the wall and abstract sculptures sitting on pedestals. It reminded you of home, in a way, if Mariposas had been colorless and stiff. There was soft music playing, a band tucked into the corner of the room. Poe took your arm, escorting you through the room of senators and leaders, former Rebellion members.

It was clear that this gala was pretending to be something it was not. On the outside, it had been bolstered as an academy class reunion, probably to drive off any First Order loyalists, keep them off the trail, inside was a completely different story.

You knew these people. A lot of them, wrinkled and graying though they were. Pathfinders, pilots, ground fighters, comm techs…these had been your brothers and sisters on base, and a decent amount of them, seemingly, had bloomed into important people in their own right.

What was holding them back from helping, you wondered, scanning the room. Maybe it was just the fear of the First Order, of making themselves vulnerable just to be eliminated without a second thought. But as the eyes in the room found you, the whispers picked up, speculating how it was you were there, standing there, living and breathing after all this time.

“How’s that for a first impression…” Poe murmured, just loud enough for you to hear, watching the way these legends reacted to seeing you.

“Time to finally use these stares and whispers to our advantage.” You said, leading him over to a corner where some former fighters were standing. You picked one from the crowd, calling his name to your mind. After all, it had only been two years since you’d seen him.

“Y-your Highness?” He asked, looking you up and down. He glanced at the others, as if to make sure you weren’t some Force Ghost standing there in front of him, that they were seeing it too. “I thought you were…”

“Dead? Lots of folks seem to think so.” You replied, offering your hand, which he shook vigorously. “It’s good to see you, Lieutenant. How’s Marsha?”

That was how it started. You navigated through the room, a walking myth.

Once you made your rounds, Poe at your side, chatting with the people gathered there, you felt a tap on your arm and turned to find him. Lando Calrissian in the flesh.

“I was wondering if I might steal a dance, Princess. If you’re not too busy with the Commander here.” Lando motioned to Poe, whose mouth fell open at his sudden appearance.

“Lando!” You all but jumped into his arms, captured quickly in a tight hug. He swayed back and forth, laughing.

“Maker, Leia was right. You really haven’t aged a day.” He said, taking a moment to look at you. He spun you around. “Can’t say the same for the rest of us.”

“You look great Lando. I was wondering when I’d finally get to see you. How have you been?”

“Oh, same old. Leia tipped me off about this…reunion. Thought I could help finally win these stuffy old guys over.”

“No such luck, I’m guessing.” Poe said, scanning the room.

“Not yet.” Lando winked at you. “That’s why she sent her secret weapon.”

“Not so secret anymore.” You said, trying to ignore all the eyes in your peripheral vision.

Lando introduced and reintroduced you to a handful of old colleagues. One of them, a senator now, stiffened at the sight of you, looking you up and down.

“Leia…dressed you up just like her. It would be convincing, if not for the fake wings.” He said with a sneer. “Almost had me there for a second.”

You chuckled softly, malice creeping into your eyes. “Fake wings?” You repeated, raising them slightly.

“I’ve seen them in action, Senator. I assure you, these things are the real deal.” Poe said, expression guarded, tone painfully casual.

Artoo beeped something at him, agitated, but the senator batted a hand. “I don’t speak droid.”

“I can’t translate what he said anyway, it’s hardly appropriate for an event like this.” You said with a laugh. “Do you need another drink?”

“That’s not–” He started to argue, but you held out a hand, using the Force to pull a champagne flute from across the room. It glided smoothly through the air and hovered in front of him. He stared at it, dropping the empty glass in his own hand. He looked up at you in horror as Poe laughed. “You’re her.”

“Obviously.” You replied, plucking the drink from the air and handing it to him. “I know it’s hard to believe. It’s a long story, but I was saved by one very daring pilot, a Jedi, and a fighter after a long time asleep. Imagine my surprise at waking up to another war.”

He shook his head, brows furrowed. “What war?”

“The First Order. The Resistance. Are you unaware of the conflicts, or just too callous to care this time, elevated position and all?” You asked.

“The need for fighting is over.” He said, shaking his head. “I had my war, I’m sure we can all just live in peace.”

“Senator, I don’t know if you’ve been out there, but it’s bad.” Poe said, eyes serious. “What they did to the New Republic…”

“Was a horrible incident, I’m sure, but that doesn’t mean we can all just…hop in an X-Wing and blow things up.”

You laughed at that. “You didn’t even do that the first time. You failed your flight test, if I remember correctly, Senator. Was it two times, or three?”

He scoffed, clearly offended. “Well, I–”

Poe’s eyes lit up, watching as you warmed up to take your shot.

“Don’t you remember what things were like? Under the Empire? Maybe it’s been too long for you. I know thirty years is a long time to hold onto memories, but…it’s only been two years for me. Two years since the Battle of Endor. Two years of quiet after. I remember how bad it was and this is worse. The weapons they have, the forces, the numbers. They have a Sith trying to outshine Darth Vader and Maker knows what else hidden on those Star Destroyers. They are taking children and ruining lives. One of our best friends is a former trooper. I wish he was here to tell you himself the horrors he’s seen aboard those vessels. They can destroy planets with a few button presses. Maybe you feel safe right now. Maybe you’re playing into their pocket, who knows, but someday, they’ll turn on you, too, and there will be no one left to protect you because you didn’t help the Resistance fight back.”

The room fell silent, every ear tuning into your fiery words. Lando let out a proud little laugh.

Someone across the room stepped forward, meeting your eyes. Wedge. Wedge Antilles. One of the best Rebel pilots there was. He’d been great friends with Luke, so you’d known him pretty well. It was good to see he was still around.

“Well, your Highness, where do we sign up?”

***

After a few more hours of networking, of Poe handing out tokens for further communication, taking pledges and handing out contact information for any people they knew who’d like to enlist in the Rebellion, the three of you–you, Poe and Artoo, that is–said your goodbyes and headed back to the ship.

As soon as the ramp was closed, Poe’s face broke into a victorious smile and he took you in his arms, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around. Laughter bubbled from your lips.

“That was insane!” A triumphant laugh escaped him. “You flipped that whole room in less than a minute! I…I…” He set you down, unable to wipe the smile from his face. “I can’t believe that just happened. This changes…everything. We’re gonna have so many new recruits. We’re gonna be able to get so many supplies…”

“New pilots?” You asked.

“New X-Wings. New ships. New blasters. Kriff, new uniforms, even.” He smiled, grabbing onto your arms, just above the flowing, off-the-shoulder sleeves. “Wow, I dunno, I had my doubts when Leia sent me four systems out for a shiny rock, but…I don’t know what we’d do without you here.” He met your eyes, took a step closer, dipped his head down. “I don’t know what I’d do without you here…”

You couldn’t do it anymore. You couldn’t dance around him and pretend your heart wasn’t on fire just looking at him.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and tugged him closer, lips capturing his easily, as you had in your fantasies so many times. He gasped into your mouth, arms winding around your waist and pulling you against him, lips passionate and experienced. Poe held you there with one arm, the other traveling up into your hair.

Your nose brushed against his as he twisted, getting an even better angle, teeth nipping at your lip. You reached up and cupped his cheek, thumb brushing through the stubble accumulated there.

He pulled back, forehead against yours, breaths ragged as his eyes searched your face, looking for some evidence that that had happened, that it was real this time.

“Say something,” you whispered, hand still anchored against his cheek, eyes sparkling with insecurity. “Please.”

“Give me a second. I’ve never kissed a princess before.” He murmured, kissing your forehead, then your cheeks, pressing another long one to your lips. Soft, but filled with so much passion. He let out a breathy chuckle, meeting your eyes. “Maker, you have no idea how many times I’ve dreamed of doing that.”

You bit your lip, a guilty little smile twisting your mouth. “Actually, about that…”

Poe’s eyes widened, jaw dropping before the shock melted into an embarrassed grin. “You…you could feel it, huh? The whole time?”

“More or less.” You confessed. You pulled him back into you and he didn’t resist, nose brushing yours as you whispered, “I couldn’t tell if they were your fantasies or mine, to be honest.”

He stepped forward, cupping your cheek as he captured your lips again, hungrier this time, lit up by your words, by your confession, that you had felt this way about him for just as long as he’d been drawn to you.

Another step forward and your exposed back touched the cold metal of a wall panel, one of Poe’s hands taking yours, fingers interlacing as he held it up against the wall. His other hand tugged your waist closer, closer, closer, like he was trying to fuse the two of you into one person.

You crooned, hooking your arm around his neck, keeping him there.

“Tell me to stop,” he rasped, lips trailing down your neck before crushing against yours again. “Use one of your Jedi Mind Tricks or something.”

“I can’t.” You laughed against him. “They wouldn’t work on you anyway and…I don’t want you to stop.”

“Well good, because I don’t think I can…” He said with a chuckle, nose smushed against yours. He kissed you again, movements tender and slow, smiling against you when he heard your breath hitch. “I thought Jedi weren’t allowed to fall in love. I would have done this so much sooner…”

You laughed. “That’s what was stopping you? I thought you weren’t afraid of bending the rules, Commander.”

Poe let out a breath, smirking. “Well yeah, but…you’re a princess. I thought you might not be so keen on rulebreaking.”

“Well the good news is, there aren’t any rules against Jedi falling in love anymore.” You murmured, resting your forehead against his, hands tugging on the trim of his tunic. “But if there were…I would break them for you, Poe Dameron.”

He grinned that flyboy grin, going in for one last kiss, then another, then one final, lingering kiss, stealing the breath from your lungs, the butterflies in your stomach flying loop-de-loops that rivaled any maneuver he could pull off with his X-Wing.

Soon, you knew you’d have to fly back to base, update Leia on the progress you’d made, return to your schedules and duties.

But now, you shared your breaths with him, heart racing as he cupped your cheeks, whispering sweet words against your lips, promises to steal away more time together as soon as the Maker would allow.

A Little Rebel Spirit

Poe slept in your bed that night.

Your mattress was hardly big enough for one of you let alone both of you, but he didn’t mind, changing out of his formal tunic, carefully returning your Rebellion trinkets to their special little box, and laying in your bed, watching you, hands folded on his toned tan chest, the chain around his neck glimmering against his skin.

You’d changed into some sleep shorts and a tanktop you’d modified for your wings. When you turned to face him again in the dim bedroom, he gasped, eyes falling on your thigh. More specifically, the large tattoo piece stretched across your skin.

“You have a tattoo?” He asked, almost scandalized. “Princess, I knew you were a Rebel, but I didn’t know you were so rebellious.”

“You wanna know what’s rebellious…Leia did this.” You said, fingers skimming over the artwork.

His jaw dropped. “No fucking way.”

“Yes way.” You nodded, walking over to the bed and sat beside him, propping your leg atop his so he could see better.

He ran a large hand over the tattoo, the sheer warmth of his touch sending shivers down your spine. “When?”

“Three years ago.” You answered, before correcting “Thirty-three years ago. We were on some planet, there was a market and she got a tattoo gun for like…twelve credits, which should have been the first red flag.”

“And you let her do that?” He asked, laughing.

“Well yeah. She’s my best friend. I knew it would drive my parents nuts, their second in line for the throne defiling her skin, but…I didn’t really expect to survive the war, to be honest. Besides, I was the spare, what were they gonna do about it? I knew I was never going to be queen.” You said with a shrug. “It’s not half bad anyways. She’s a talented artist.”

“This is…that tree, isn’t it. The one on Mariposas.” He said, studying the lines, the shading. It was a large, sprawling tree, branches thick, covered in flowers. Roots twisted down your thigh, headed towards your knee, and in the roots, were a few stray butterflies. Above it, three moons, their shaded crescents in various stages of their cycles.

You nodded. “The Monarch Tree. From which, all life on Mariposas bloomed, or so the legends go.” You guided his hand further down the art, to where the roots curled into a subtle version of the symbol of the Rebellion. “This was by special request.”

His features glowed with recognition and he met your eyes, reaching up to smooth the hair out of your face. “Wow, that’s…that’s really hot, I’ll be honest.”

You giggled, shifting your body towards him. “Yeah? A little Rebel spirit is what does it for you?”

“You’re one to talk. You’re into that silly orange jumpsuit of mine.” He teased, hand hooking your knee and tugging your leg to the other side of his hips, so you were straddling him, hovering inches from his face.

Your wings twitched behind you as you cupped his face with both hands, nose pressed to his. Tenderly, slowly, you inched in, grinning when he got impatient and chased your lips, hands wandering up to your waist to tug you closer.

“You know, honestly Poe, it’s not so much the jumpsuit as it is the thought of…taking it off of you. How easy it would be to just…reach out and unzip it a little.” Mischief glimmered in your eyes. “With the Force.”

He let out a broken groan at that, throwing his head back towards the wall. “You can’t just say that when I’m not wearing it.”

You smiled, coy. “Next time, perhaps.”

“Oh, there’s no question about that, sweetheart.” He had fire in his eyes when he pulled you towards him, crushing his lips to yours, tongue teasing at the seam between your mouths. You let him in, the taste of him rolling across your tongue, minty fresh from his toothpaste.

You threaded your fingers through his curls, letting out a whine when his lips left yours and started trailing down your neck, stubble rough against the sensitive skin. His hand ghosted up your back, finding the base of your wings, calloused fingertips brushing against the spot between them.

Tingles shot through your limbs like firecrackers and you crumbled against him.

He froze, the panic setting in. “Woahhh, sorry, sorry, is that not an okay spot?”

You took a deep breath, reaching up to cup his cheek, turning his face towards you as best you could from your spot tucked into his shoulder. You laughed sheepishly, cheeks flushed. “S’fine, Poe. I’m okay.”

“No, if it’s not fine, you need to tell me. Baby, I’ve never…touched a Mariposan before, I don’t know what I’m doing.” He confessed.

“It’s…that spot is the most sensitive spot on my whole body.” You said through laughs, pulling his face down to meet yours. “So we just went zero to a thousand all at once.”

“Oh.” He laughed. “So it’s a no-go zone.”

“It’s a ‘we have to work up to that’ zone.” You amended, pressing a kiss to his lips, adjusting yourself so you were a little more upright. “You can touch it, but…it has to be featherlight. Unless we’ve gotten there.”

“Okay.” He nodded, nose brushing against yours. “So, do they…have feeling in them?” He asked, hand hovering just above the crest of one of your wings, still a little afraid to outright touch them, despite the fact that he already had, that night in the kitchens.

“Mmhmm.” You spread one out for him, an invitation. “You can touch them. Just be gentle. Like before.”

Poe reached out, running the palm of his hand down the length of one wing, tingles running down your back as he did.

You let out a contented sigh, lulling against his chest as your muscles relaxed.

“Does it feel good?”

“Yeah.” You kissed his cheek, then the corner of his lips, hand resting against his chest. “It’s like…having your hair played with.”

He smiled at that, continuing the gentle movements while you were curled up in his arms. He kissed you again, lips impossibly soft, like silk, the fine royal satins your sheets on Mariposas had been made of.

“You’re the only one allowed to touch them, though.” You told him.

“Just me?” He asked, absolutely enamored.

“Just you.” You punctuated it with a kiss that he readily reciprocated. “It’s…seen as a romantic thing, on Mariposas. Wing-touching is…very personal.”

“So when you let me touch them that night…”

“I was making a move, more or less. I knew you wouldn’t take it that way, though. It doesn’t mean much to outsiders.”

“It meant everything to me, Princess.” He whispered, kissing your forehead. He basked in the proximity, of the feeling of you in his arms, the way you slotted perfectly against him, like you were made for him. “Should have done my research. Would have saved us both some time.”

You laughed. “I doubt Laesynda would have told you that.”

“True.” He went quiet for a while, thinking over something before asking, “Do you…miss it?”

“Miss what?”

“Just…the way things were, before you went to sleep.” He asked. 

You could tell it had been weighing on him. If you missed people from before. If you missed the relationships you’d had. If you missed Luke.

“Sometimes. I miss Mariposas a lot. I miss my family. I didn’t even get the privilege of losing them, really, I just woke up and…they were gone. Had been gone for decades. I miss Han. I miss Luke…but…He left me there. He just…left me there to sleep for thirty years, so…” You let out a breath. “I try not to miss him more than he missed me.”

He nodded, listening quietly, hand still gently passing over your wing, the sensation soothing in indescribable ways. It had been so long since someone had touched you like that. If he kept at it, he would lull you right to sleep.

“But I like this life, too. I like training with Rey and Soren. I like making a difference again, fighting for something important. And someday, when the war is over, I’ll get to figure out what that peace looks like for me again.” You reached up, thumb gently grazing the skin beneath that tiny scar on his cheekbone. You pulled him to you, locking in a slow, sensual kiss. “I like you most of all, Poe Dameron.”

He smirked. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not.” You shook your head, eyes earnest. “You saved my life. You found that pendant. You woke me up. And every day since then, you’ve been finding little pieces of my heart I thought I’d lost decades ago.”

His lips captured yours again, breathing into it. They wandered, down your cheek, past your jaw, down to your neck again. You laced your fingers through his curls, relishing in the burn of his stubble against your skin.

“Maker, I’m so glad we found you…”

He whispered against the sensitive spot he’d found on your neck, the words echoing off the caverns of your mind. That voice. Those words.

It was him. Obviously it was, but the realization still struck you to your core. You’d dreamed of this, dreamed of him for years, and now he was finally yours.

Your pilot. Your Poe.

Can’t Change the Past, Starlight

You and Poe walked down to breakfast separately the next morning. He slipped out of your room carefully, watching for any techs that might be walking by, and hurrying from your room to his to change into some real clothes, as all he had in your room was the formal tunic Leia had loaned him. 

You timed your exit about fifteen minutes after, and ran into Rey and Finn in the hallway.

“How did it go?” Finn asked. “I was kind of worried. I never heard Poe come into the room last night.”

“Oh it was great. I’m sure we’ll hash it all out in the meeting later. Lots of new pledges, hopefully lots of new recruits, too. Ran into Lando Calrissian. He’s…an old friend.”

Rey’s jaw dropped. “The Lando Calrissian. Is he joining the Resistance?”

“He’s thinking about it.” You said with a smirk. “He’s always been hard to pin down, but I have a good feeling he’ll come around. Maker knows we could use his help.”

The canteen was bustling with folks, starting their day. Poe was sitting at the usual table with Rose. You grabbed some breakfast and slid into the seat across from him. A calculated move. He slid you a cup of caf, just the way you liked it.

“There you are. I was worried you’d gotten lost on the way to our room.” Finn said, searching Poe’s face. “Where’d you end up last night?”

“I…slept on the couch down in the lounge. Didn’t wanna wake you, we got back really late.” Poe lied.

Alright, you were officially doing this. You were officially hiding your relationship. It was kind of thrilling, you had to admit.

“Mmm.” Finn nodded, not buying it in the slightest. “Well, how’d it go?”

“Fantastic. (Y/N) has a real way with words.” Poe said, eyes sparkling. “Flipped the whole room, had everyone all fired up. We got so many new pledges and allies. It’s gonna take the droids forever to get all the files sorted.”

“Like I said, diplomatic training I never use.” You said with a shrug, taking a sip of caf.

“How’d you sleep?” Poe asked, meeting your eyes.

“Slept alright. Like you said, we got back late, so I didn’t get much of it.”

“Mmm. Sorry to hear that.” He said through a grin that he hid behind his mug. “I slept great.”

You kicked his leg under the table.

After breakfast, the group of you filed into the meeting, where you were somewhat surprised to see Lando, chatting with Leia. Once she spotted you, she motioned you over, hugging you tightly.

“I never doubted you, (Y/N), but I have to admit, I didn’t expect results like these. This changes everything.”

“I’m glad I could do my part, General.” You said, eyes glimmering. You turned to Lando. “Didn’t expect you to head here so fast.”

“How could I not? You need help. I should have been here a long time ago.” He said, slinging an arm around your shoulders. Just like old times. “I’m here for whatever you need, ladies. Just say the word.”

“Well right now, I need someone wrangling the new recruits. They need to be rounded up from outposts in the Outer Rim.” Leia said.

Lando saluted. “Just give me coordinates and a ship. I can make it happen.”

You left the two of them, turning to sit in your usual seat with the other Jedi. This meeting was a little more broad, more of the operatives from the middle ranks present in addition to the higher-ups.

Laesynda walked past, letting her hand brush on yours as she passed, a knowing smile on her face.

You avoided Poe’s gaze purposefully, but you could feel it on you from across the table. Business as usual, you supposed. He was always giving you those lovesick looks, but now there was something more in those warm brown eyes of his. You loved the feeling.

Leia started the meeting, opening with words of congratulations, the numbers from the previous night broken down in the projection on the holo in the middle of the room. The team burst into applause, several congratulative whoops and hollers sounding. Snap jostled Poe’s shoulder and he finally met your eyes, giving you that charming flyboy wink, handsome features illuminated in the teal light.

Leia moved to the next order of business, the intel Lando had been hard at work gathering. About Mariposas.

“The attack on Mariposas…I believe it was an inside job.” Lando said.

Your heart dropped into your stomach, ears ringing. You looked at Laesynda and she shared the same grim expression you were sure was on your face. You felt Poe’s eyes on you, watching as the rug was torn from beneath your feet.

“I don’t mean to impede on our celebration, I just…With three prominent Mariposans among our ranks, I think it’s a logical conclusion that…two of them were the targets of the original attack. So whoever tipped off the Empire splinter cells, if they’re still alive, could be interested in…”

“Finishing the job.” You said, suddenly exhausted.

“Yeah.” Lando nodded.

He brought up some diagnostics, a map of the planet, a breakdown of the attack. He talked those who were unfamiliar with it through what had happened. You watched as red bloomed across the Healer’s Temple, right where you were, blaster fire taking out the Refuge, where the Healers had retreated. A light attack up front to scare them, a heavy attack on their hiding spot to finish them off.

Immediately, you knew Lando was right. It was an inside job. Only someone who knew the innerworkings of the palace would have known the Healers retreated there in the case of an emergency. Someone who had grown up there, perhaps.

You bristled, watching as the attack continued, further details selling his point further. This was an attack that had been planned and executed by someone intimately familiar with your home. And someone who wanted you dead. Or at the very least, didn’t want you to wake up.

“Maddox.” The name left your mouth coated in venom. “My brother. Had to have been. Only the royal family would have known all of this, to exploit every weak spot in order.”

“Why would your brother…” Poe started, finally daring to speak up.

“He was jealous.” Laesynda said, the memories of him weighing her down, too. “Always jealous. He was the oldest, the heir to the throne. It still wasn’t enough for him. He was jealous (Y/N) was the Jedi of the family. Wanted it to be him.”

“Couldn’t have been our parents. I was asleep, Laesynda was ten. It had to have been Maddox.” You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “Maker, if he wanted me dead so bad, I don’t know why he didn’t just destroy my pod and kill me himself.”

“Because we were there.” Leia said, voice soft. “We were too late to stop the initial attack, but…Han and Lando got the shields up. I guarded your pod. Luke handled the cultists.”

You pressed your lips together, nodding. “Thank you.”

“By the time the fight was over, all of the Healers’ Pendants had been destroyed or…lost. We tried to use the Force to open your pod, but they were designed with that in mind. Only a healer could open it and they were…all gone.”

You took a long breath, nodding as she explained.

Lando looked at you, features apologetic. “And if he is indeed in the First Order, alive after all this time, it stands to reason that…he wouldn’t be happy that you’re awake again, your Highness.”

“Right. Do we have any…intel that he is? On either account, alive or currently working with the First Order?” You asked, adjusting your posture. Your wings twitched. Rey reached for your hand and you gave it to her, the touch comforting, albeit simple.

“Not yet, your Highness, but…We’re working to figure that out. I just wanted to make sure we were all on the same page.” Lando said, turning the holo off with a click. “Wanted to make sure we all kept our guards up.”

Leia ran the team through a few other things, mostly preparation for new Resistance members she was anticipating. New quarters would have to be prepared, they’d have to arrange supplies and prepare to train dozens, maybe hundreds, of rookies.

After the meeting, you met Poe’s eyes for a moment. And then, you walked back to your quarters, paces brisk. Uncharacteristic of you to just leave one so early with no discussion of meal plans, no chatter with your peers, to just…disappear. Anyone who knew you would know there was something wrong. And Poe knew you.

The door slid shut behind you and you sat on the mattress, letting out a strangled yell, head in your hands, knees tucked up into your chest and wings flaring out behind you.

Your heart raced in the silence after the scream. The force of it, the Force of you had rattled the trinkets sitting on your dressers. You took a few breaths, leaning back against the wall and staring at the ceiling panel, tears streaming down your cheeks.

The door slid open again and Poe slipped inside, closing it behind him. He melted when he saw you there, looking utterly pathetic, you were sure.

“Hey, baby. You okay? That was some heavy stuff.” He crossed the room, sitting on the bed.

You shook your head and reached for him. He pulled you into his arms immediately, a large hand cradling your head, the other wrapped tight around you, legs draped over his. You buried your face in his shoulder, sobs muffled by his warmth.

He started tracing comforting patterns in your back, letting you get it all out before attempting to talk you through it.

“I feel so stupid, crying about it. It happened so long ago…” You confessed, voice soft and broken.

“Not for you.” Poe reasoned, pressing a kiss to your hairline. One gentle hand found your cheek and he used his thumb to gently wipe your tears away. “Everyone here knows it’s still fresh for you. Of course you’re torn up about it, I would be, too.”

You nodded, sniffling. “I always knew he hated me, but…I guess I just never knew how much. I thought after Endor, everything would cool off. But it doesn’t sound like that’s the case. It was quiet for a while, sure, but…I wasn’t here when things started getting bad. I wasn’t here to help when things got worse…”

He listened, empathy rooted deep in his warm brown eyes. “You’re here now.”

“Yeah, but…”

“What happened, happened. We can’t change the past, starlight.” He said, readjusting his hold, one arm cradling you while the other nestled against your cheek, still gently dabbing at your tears as they fell. “I’m just glad you’re here now. For selfish and unselfish reasons. Rey needs you. I need you. You’ve got a lot of good to do here, and you’ve already done so much.”

You nodded, absorbing his words. He was right. He always seemed to be. “What do you have going on today? Is there somewhere you need to be?”

“It can wait. I’m needed here.” He promised, pressing a kiss to your nose, gentle smile turning mischievous with a quirk of his eyebrow. “Besides, they’ll never find me in here.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little. Poe never failed to bring a smile to your face, even when you were feeling like this.

“It’ll be alright, baby.” He reassured. The name still made your heart do flips in your chest. You much preferred it to your stuffy royal titles.

You sat further upright, kissing his soft pink lips. He kissed back, hand tilting your face just so with passionate precision. “I know it will. We’ll make sure of it this time.”

Rise of the Resistance

It wasn’t long before the new recruits started showing up. Lando ran what was akin to a shuttle service for a few weeks, running back and forth in a tiny transport, trying to avoid as much attention as possible. So far, it had worked.

The new folks were a bright bunch. Among them, Wedge Antilles, who had left behind his flight school, taking most of his pupils with him to help the cause.

“You know, as weird as this sounds, I missed it, Princess.” He admitted, hands on his hips, looking around the base, where soldiers ran in neat columns for their morning workout.

“Missed that Rebel air?”

He grinned. “Exactly that.”

Snap walked over, hugging him tightly and that was how you found out Wedge was Snap’s step-dad. Maker, it was a small galaxy after all. You and the other Jedi took a break from training, trying to help everyone get acclimated. You helped with giving tours, showed rookies where to get their breakfast and sleep, teaching them emergency protocol.

You set up a meditation room in an empty storage shed. It left something to be desired, but it was dimly lit, had some soft music playing, various toys and activities for Force training, cushions on the floor for those who could not float in the air while they meditated.

Aspen led some of the new recruits through while you were organizing your books.

“And this is Princess (Y/N) (L/N) of Mariposas, one of three Jedi we have on base.” She motioned to you. “If any of you think you might be Force-Sensitive, this is who you want to come to with questions.”

“We are always looking for new Jedi.” You said. “But this room is for everybody. If you need to get away for a bit, feel free to come here, do some meditation, read. It’s here for you. It gets rough out there, you need to take care of yourselves.”

Hours later, you had a tour group of your own, leading them through the comms center, then the mech workshop, droid repair, where BB-8 was getting a fresh paint job and beeped and whirred at you excitedly.

You led them past the hangar, where there were pilots milling around, about to head out on a perimeter check. Poe was there, stretching in that orange jumpsuit of his. You couldn’t fight the grin that formed when he spotted you, lighting up. He walked over, introducing himself to the group.

“Any pilots?” He asked, scanning your recruits, standing right next to you, hands on his hips, but his elbow brushing your side.

Professional. So, painfully professional.

“Reggie there.” You pointed him out and Reggie volunteered himself with a proud hand in the air.

“That’s the spirit. Welcome to the team, Reg.” He looked at you, glancing at your holo to take a peek at your schedule. “They’re not giving you too much trouble, I hope.”

“Nope, I’m all set with these guys. Bright bunch.” You replied, meeting those warm brown eyes, where mischief always seemed to sparkle.

“Right. Good. So, you don’t have anything penciled in after lunch?”

“I do not.” You confirmed.

“Alright. Well, uh, I’ve gotta hop in that X-Wing for perimeter checks. See you around, your Highness.” He promised, eyebrow quirked. He turned to Reggie. “Nice to meet you, Reggie. I’ll make sure you get acclimated.”

“Thank you, sir.” Reggie replied, starstruck.

You gave Poe a parting smile. Once the group had turned away, you glanced back. He motioned to the zipper of his jumpsuit, then looked at you with over-exaggerated expectation. Your jaw dropped and you rolled your eyes, laughing. Here in front of all of these people was not where you intended to use the Force to unzip his jumpsuit.

Still, you pinched your fingers together, focusing for a moment as you tugged it down the tiniest bit, just enough to tease him. He gasped, clearly not expecting you to actually do it. The way his eyes lit up, though, you could tell he was into it. Perhaps too into it.

The group didn’t notice, too busy buzzing about their future roles. Some of them were buzzing about other topics, like how hot your boyfriend was.

You moved them along to the next spot on the tour, but one of them pushed.

“Who was that?”

“Who, Commander Dameron?”

“He’s a Commander.” She giggled with the girl beside her. They couldn’t have been older than nineteen. It was kind of cute, admittedly. Harmless.

“Wow, he is something.” The other one agreed.

“Best pilot in the galaxy, in fact.” You chimed, heart surging with pride at your overly casual words. “I do think he’s seeing someone though, ladies.”

They both let out dramatic sighs. “Well, whoever they are, I hope they know how lucky they are.”

You chuckled, watching as his X-Wing pulled off into the air, doing a barrel roll right above the group. Now he was showing off. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t do something to you. “Oh she does.”

***

You ate lunch with Rey and Soren, welcoming a few of the new recruits to your table. Finn was busy with tours, too, training people to do various upkeep tasks around the base, keeping everything running smoothly. Poe was standing in the doorway and Rey looked up at him, then glanced at you, then back at him again.

“I think he’s trying to get your attention.” She chuckled, stabbing at the remains of her salad with a fork.

“Oh, is he?” You replied through a smile, still trying to keep up the act.

“I think he’s into you, you know. Finn and I talk about it sometimes.” She said, tone encouraging. “And he is his roommate. And his best friend.”

“Are you implying Finn has some information I should know?” You asked.

She laughed. “I very well may be. Honestly though, you should just go for it. I’ve never seen him look at anyone like that. May as well give it a shot.”

“Yeah.” You smiled at that. “Maybe I’ll go see what his deal is.”

“Good luck.” Rey said, watching as you crossed the room to where he was waiting in the doorway.

You met him with a cordial, professional smile. “Commander Dameron, is there something I can help you with?”

“Actually, yes, there is, Your Royal Highness.”

“Woah, busting out the big title? What’s the special occasion?”

“I was wondering if you’d like to take a walk down the hall with me.”

“Down the hall.” You said with a chuckle, pushing past him and leading him in that direction. Once you were out of earshot of the canteen, you muttered, “How romantic.”

“Oh I’ll show you romantic, Princess.” He replied, tugging open a closet door and grabbing your arm, pulling you inside. He locked the door with a careful click and then he was on you, calloused hands on your cheeks, lips fluid and hungry.

“Poe,” you mumbled into his lips, taken aback, heart revving like an engine.

“You wanna unzip it the rest of the way?” He asked, the rasp in his voice alone telling you he had been thinking about it all morning.

“That did something to you, huh?” You giggled into his mouth as he latched back on, his steps pushing until you hit the wall behind you.

“Sure did.” He agreed, releasing you and holding his arms open, orange jumpsuit there and ready for you, zipped nearly to the top. “Do it.”

“You sure?” You asked, raising a hand, wiggling your fingers with a coy smile on your face.

“Quit teasin’ me, baby.” He warned.

You bit back a laugh, focusing the zipper. You pinched your fingers together and pulled downwards, the zipper falling at your will without either of you touching it. He stared at it for a long moment, that  dangerous spark in his eyes again before he surged forward.

“That is…wow.” He murmured, fire behind his words. One hand cupped your cheek, the other holding your waist as he stepped closer, closer, closer, slotting himself between your legs.

You grabbed the sides of the jumpsuit, pulling it open, working it down his broad shoulders to reveal the thin white undershirt beneath. On top of it, the silver chain he always wore, a simple silver ring threaded through it. A ring you recognized as Shara’s.

“Rey and I had a…conversation…at lunch.” You said between kisses.

“Mmhmm, ‘bout what?” He asked, tilting your head and kissing down your neck. His other hand roamed lower, brushing across one of your wings, sending tingles up your arms.

You let out a shuttered breath, head tilting back against the wall. “She thinks…” another sigh escaped you as he continued to kiss the spot, jaw movements clouding your vision with stars, “you might be into me.”

His lips curled, poised over the vein on your neck. He paused for a moment. “Oh she does, does she?”

“Yeah, she has it on pretty good authority, apparently.” You said, daring to look down at him, at those dark, sultry eyes.

“Yeah, well, she’s not far off.” He breathed, going back in for your neck, determined to leave a mark in the short window of time you had before you and Soren were doing your ground perimeters. “I’m fucking obsessed with you, starlight.”

You moaned at his passioned ministrations on your neck, fingers threading through those lucious curls and giving a gentle tug. His hands hooked under your thighs and he hoisted you onto his hips, your back pressed against the wall of the tiny closet.

You met his eyes, breathless, wings fanned out behind you. “I can’t believe I get to have you, Poe Dameron.”

“Believe it.” He asserted, nose brushing against yours on the way to your lips. You cupped his cheeks with your hands, kissing all over his face before returning. “Kriff, I still wake up every day in disbelief that I get to do this in a closet with a Jedi Princess.”

“We won’t be in closets forever.” You whispered, eyes locking on his. It was a promise. Someday, everyone would know. It wouldn’t have to be a secret anymore.

He nodded, grinned. “Yeah, but…it is kinda thrilling, right?”

“Can’t argue with that.”

His eyes drifted down to your neck and he pulled a plush pink lip between his teeth, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Hey, uhhh…you have a turtleneck you can wear, right?”

Your jaw fell open. “You did not.”

“I might’ve.”

“You might’ve?” You shook your head. “Poe Dameron, what am I going to do with you?”

He pressed his forehead to yours, eyes half-lidded, lips ghosting across yours as he whispered, “More of this, I hope.”

***

Another week came and went. More recruits arrived, but things had hit something of a plateau. Still, your numbers were excellent, a far cry from the shell of a Resistance that had been left after Crait.

Poe was giving the new pilots a walk around the base, all of them suited up in their bright orange jumpsuits, having been fitted for them for the first time. You and Soren were out and about, dressed in your Jedi robes, lightsabers clipped to your belts. You must have just finished some training, he rationalized.

He noticed how some of the pilots in his group stared, watching the two of you with interest. He figured many of them had probably never seen a Jedi before. Hell, he hadn’t until Rey had moved those rocks from the mouth of the tunnel they’d all been trapped inside on that blasted salt planet.

“Is that one the Jedi Princess or the other Jedi?” one of the new pilots asked, voice hushed, as though you could hear his very thoughts at that distance.

“That one is the princess. You can tell by the wings.” Snap explained. “Poe’s good friends with her.”

Good friends. He thought to himself with a chuckle. Just like you and Karé are “good friends.”

“Is she single? Could you put in the good word?” another asked, earning elbows and enthusiastic hollers from his teammates.

Snap laughed out loud, glancing over at Poe, who could feel his ears burn. Cheeks, too.

“Oh, uhhh, Jedi actually aren’t allowed to fall in love.” He lied through a charming smile. “Believe me, I asked her myself. Breaks some ancient Jedi code or something. Sorry, fellas.”

The rookie pilots let out noises of disappointment and Poe couldn’t help but laugh to himself. There. That’d keep them off of you.

“They’re not, huh?” Snap asked, voice quiet enough that the others couldn’t hear. He motioned to you with his head. “Might want to tell her that.”

Snap was right. Poe glanced over and you were looking at him with that starry-eyed gaze. So lovesick he lost track of his footing, tripping right over BB-8, who had been rolling in front of him.

“Poe!”

Bee let out a series of disgruntled beeps and buzzes and he chuckled, embarrassed. He scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry, Bee. You okay, buddy?”

Bee beeped up at you, seemingly unharmed. He was a sturdy little guy, after all.

“I agree, he needs to watch where he’s going.” You said, hands on your hips. You offered one, helping him to his feet. “You hear that, Dameron?”

“Loud and clear, your Highness.” He chuckled, brushing himself off.

“No serious damage?”

“Not that I can find.” Poe blew the hair from his eyes.

You reached up and plucked a single leaf from his curls, handing it to him. “There. For your collection.”

“Thanks, I’ll put it with the rest of ‘em.” He said with a smirk. Poe turned to the assembled rookies, who were murmuring amongst themselves. “Pilots, Princess (Y/N), Princess (Y/N), our new crop of pilots. Get acquainted with her. If you crash in the middle of a fight, she’s the one that’s gonna catch your X-Wing.”

“If it doesn’t blow up before that.” Snap added, earning a few unsettled laughs from the group.

It was a dangerous job. You’d always known that. You liked to think that you helped protect them when you could. When it was possible to. But Poe was always taking a risk when he climbed into that cockpit, even for something as simple as checking perimeters. He knew it, too, which is what made him so damn brave.

“Right. That.” Poe agreed with a bitter chuckle. “How was training?”

“Good. Making progress.” You said, shrugging. You and Soren hadn’t done anything groundbreaking, just sparring. But still, it felt good, like you were both making habits, challenging each other and learning little quirks of battle.

“Good. Good. Well, see ya around.” He gave your arm an awkward little touch.

You couldn’t help but laugh as you returned to Soren, who had a knowing look on his face. You knew then that he knew. That that Jedi intuition had finally clocked what was going on. But he didn’t say anything. Saved you the trouble of explaining yourself, why you were hiding it. 

The Resistance had enough going on. They didn’t need the drama of one of the Jedi entangled with their ace pilot. Especially if something went wrong.

Tags: @cap-lu20

[p0ssywhippedcream]

Please I'm begging with everything I've got in me! Is there a possibility that you might feel inspired enough to make a 2nd part of your most recent gojo fic? 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

I accidentally already wrote part three (it’s posted lol) without writing part two so ohemg let me do that rn bb🫶

“I’m saying it would be beneficial for both of us.” Gojo continues with his proposal like it’s the most casual thing he could ask.

Having just choked on your glass of wine and dabbing at your face with a napkin, you look at him like he’s lost his damn mind. He probably has, he’s somehow grinning at you as you try to regain your composure and hide your blush.

“So wait, let me get this straight. You asked me to dinner because you wanted to start a friends-with-benefits relationship with me? Oh my god…” You shake your head and look nowhere, enveloped in sinful thoughts.

“I promise you’d like it.” Gojo says with a mischievous smirk and a quirk of his head.

“It’s not whether or not i’ll like it that I’m concerned about, Satoru-” You start with furrowed eyebrows.

“-God, I love how you say my name-” He interjects happily.

“-it’s how this could change our workspace, and our friendship.”

He sips his wine carelessly. “We’ve kissed before, what’s the big deal?”

If your jaw could drop any more at his audacity, it did.

“The big deal is that we’d be fucking! I don’t know if I want to be fucking you, -thank you-when did you have this idea anyway?” You rush out your words, thankful when the waiter sets down your meals and walks off. You have a good distraction now so you can avoid his excited eyes.

“Darling, everybody wants to be fucking me.”You roll your eyes, “And four days ago, at that party. You looked so pent up when I kissed you, and I know for a fact you didn’t go home with anyone that night. Admit it, you’re not getting any action. You need this as much as I do.”

You take a bite of your chicken parm, groaning at the amazing taste. You mull over his words and wash down the nibble with a gulp of your wine. He waits with a guise of nonchalance while anxiety chips at his heart.

“Why would you need this? You can get with any other girl at any time, you don’t need me.”

Gojo shrugs and swallows his rising feelings of jealousy when he remembers seeing another man touch you at that party. “Convenience. It’s easier to just be able to call you when I need a fuck rather than go out and work for it.”

You snort, “You’d still be working for it with me, Toru.”

He raises his eyebrows and asks after a moment, “So, what do you think? I think it’s a good idea.”

“Of course you think it’s a good idea,” You jab your fork at him, one cheek stuffed with food, “It’s your idea!”

You pause and make a face “Honestly, I don’t know. What if it ruins what we have?”

Gojo had thought about that before proposing his idea to you and decided it would be worth it. Anything would be worth it if he could hold you.

“It won’t. It won’t, I promise.” He leans in on that, kindness in his eyes even as he smiles proudly.

“Okay.” You throw the rest of your wine down your throat, “Let’s do it.”

Gojo’s smile takes over his face fully and he cheers, clinking his glass to your empty one. You enjoy the rest of your meals with easy chatter about work and your private lives, even with the heavy air hanging over the table.

Once finished, he pays the bill for both of you, despite your insistence you can afford it.

When you wander out to the front of the restaurant and face each other, he stops you from leaving. With your hands tucked in your pockets and a look of Hurry it up, I’m cold, you listen to him.

“We could start now. Right now. Go back to my place, have another bottle?”

“I’d be properly wasted then. Are you trying to get me wasted?”

His smirk grows, “I wouldn’t mind seeing that”

You chuckle and step closer, “Okay. Let’s see this dick that’s all the rage. It better live up to the rumors.”

As Gojo watches you walk towards where his car is parked and feels his heart beat faster, he pretends he doesn’t notice his helpless longing for you. It’s just excitement to get another girl i his bed, that always gets him excited.

You’re nothing special. Nothing at all, he tells himself as he opens the door for you, “My dick has it’s own rumors? Pray tell.”

to be continued -> part three

[huntingingoodwill]

waterloo! (t.s.)

masterlist

send in requests for my 1.3k sleepover 💕

requested by: @notyour-valentine (tysm bb!)

pairing: 1970s! au tommy shelby x reader

“Hurry! It’s about to start!” You whined, impatient. 

You stood outside your front door, watching Tommy take his time rummaging through his pockets to fish out the keys. 

“ABBA!” You exclaimed, perfectly in sync with the host. 

“ABBA!” You exclaimed, perfectly in sync with the host. 

“ABBA!” You exclaimed, perfectly in sync with the host. 

The cameras cut toward the band and you cheered, squealing as the opening riff of Waterloo kicked into life, the lively twang blaring through the room as you turned up the volume. The music exploded from each slam of the piano keys, and you watched excitedly as the singers appeared on screen, glittering in their costumes as they lifted the microphones to their lips. 

You hummed along, nodding your head to the beat. Tommy slowly made his way into the room, having swung his suit jacket over his shoulder, his tie hanging loosely around his neck. He watched you, happily nodding your head to the music, splayed out on the ground in your best dress. 

“This is what you made us leave early for?” He chuckled, a little incredulous as you nodded your head, eyes not breaking away from the screen for a second. “I don’t get why you like this band so much.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What’s not to love?”  

“Their outfits for one.”  He remarked, voice dripping with derision. 

You squinted at the screen, the sequins of their jumpsuits glittering even through the grainy footage. 

“I quite like the outfits. You could do with a pair of those.” Your nail clinked against the glass as you pointed at Björn’s boots as he teetered on them, the towering platforms making his svelte body rise into the air like a skyscraper. 

“Not my style.” He muttered, the soft click of his lighter sounding out behind you as he settled into the couch, the smell of tobacco filling the air as he took his first puff. 

“I still think you ought to try it, people might actually listen to you once you’re taller.” You teased. He leaned down, swatting you affectionately on the leg. “Well, there’s more to them than the outfits. I quite like this song in particular.” 

“Why’s that?” 

You tossed a coy smile over your shoulder. “It reminds me of us.”

“Really?” 

You rolled over, getting up on your feet again. Your hips swayed to the rhythm as you held your hands out to Tommy. He took hold of them, allowing you to pull him up from the couch. You wrapped your arms around his neck, bobbing from side to side, getting him to dance with you. He did so, a little begrudgingly, but soon, his steps fell into the rhythm of the music, an amused smile dancing across his lips. 

“Listen to the lyrics, darling.” You smiled, plucking the cigarette from his lips and taking a puff for yourself. “When I met you, I was convinced I wouldn’t cave into you.” 

“In what sense?” He replied. 

“Well, I knew I was done for the moment I saw you, but I wouldn’t let myself fall in love with you. That, and I wouldn’t let your Blinders take over my territory.”  

“Sorry about that. Had I known a girl as lovely as you was the leader of one of my rival gangs I would have taken a kinder approach.” He chuckled, extending his arm and twirling you away from him, pulling you back in once more as the two of you stepped across the room. “But I was persistent.”  

“You nearly shot me.” You laughed. 

He shrugged. “Persistent. I was persistent after that too, sending you flowers everyday.” 

“My office reeked of roses for three months.” You shot back, voice shaky with laughter. 

“But I won you over, eventually.” He smiled, proud of himself, even now. “The territories… well, they’ve been 50/50 ever since our wedding day, so I consider that a win.” 

“Oh, you won.” You conceded as he spun you around once more, making you feel giddy with joy. “You certainly defeated me.” You grinned, echoing the lyrics as the two of you turned to gaze at the TV, swaying from side to side. 

“Promise to love you, forevermore!” You sang along with a cheesy dramaticness, holding your balled fist to your lips like you were performing with all your might into a microphone. 

You held the invisible mic to his lips, watching as he rolled his eyes, silent as the girls on TV sang on. 

“C’mon.” You laughed, nudging him. 

“Knowing my fate is to be with you.” He muttered bashfully. 

You cheered, pulling him close. 

From that day on, whenever Waterloo came on, no matter time nor place, the two of you would dance. It was an odd choice, to everyone around you, your intimidating statures melting away at the first opening keys of the bright, cheery song. But how could you resist? It was your song, after all.

[whoblewboobear]

Before the ep tonight I do just have to say -> Quinn thirst tag & Quinn simp tag are what I’ll be tagging my horny shit as for blacklisting purposes.

After Zach’s video & a lot of people being annoyed with said posts in the tag I’m kinda- hesitant to post Quinn stuff; I’m still gonna bc it’s fun but I wanna do it in a way that no one gets hurt.

When bb16 aired I was 14 and no stranger to rpf. I was locked tf in to Zankie. I’m 24 now and one thing that has not changed over the years is that shipping is for fans and fandom, the real human beings shouldn’t be subject to seeing that and the fans deserve to have privacy to indulge. It becomes an issue when those lines cross.

After bb seasons are over I rarely look into these people’s lives and contacting any of them is a moral line I really can’t cross (Quinn thirst aside, I’m crazy but too anxious to ever hit that man up for real. 👀 but if I met him in the street and decided to shoot my shot?? I still wouldn’t I’m bad at flirting.)

So please, I urge you if any of my posts are making anyone uncomfortable, please block those two tags or block me in general. Not in an aggro ‘BLOCK ME THEN 😡’ way. But in a take care of you first kinda way.

It’s very fun and silly being told to stand up in the notes (I’m glued on my knees sorry 💖) makes me die laughing but I do wanna clarify 90% of this is exaggerating the 10% that I find Quinn very pretty bc I have a type and he firmly fits that. Also I did see an opportunity to gun for thirstiest blogger if tag awards come back so I was running off that high too.

[colorisbyshe]

Monthly Music 08/24 Hehehe

Albums/Multi Song Section:

Taemin released a mini album. Honestly, listen to all of it, even the more ballad-y fare but honestly... Sexy In the Air is a track EVERYONE should give a shot. It's what it says on the tin--sexy. Highlights: Horizon, if you like Kavinsky but want a kpop, energy-infused twist, try this out! (ITS A REACH BUT!!). Crush has some MJ-esque delivery that is very enthralling. Deju Vu is for the people who want to feel songs vibrate in their bones and in their [redacted]

Tinashe released her follow-up to the (superior) BB/Angel! My faves are No Simulation, Thirsty, When I Get You Alone, + No Broke Boys. Chill, alt R&B. Ethereal, sensual. Tinashe and Taemin should collab or at least do choreo to each other's songs tbh. NBB is a modern reimagining of No Scrubs

Foster the People is baack. BIASED REVIEW because I'm a longterm fan. See You in the Afterlife (oddly cunty??), Feed Me (cuntier except some of the instrumental could've been produced on Gene Belcher's random sound keyboard), Paradise State of Mind (Tame Impala knock off, mayhaps), & Glitchzig (discordant, extraterrestrial).

Fromis_9, a kpop group, has had a mini release. Here's a mini review: Supersonic & Beat the Heat have a throwback appeal. Simple, joyful pop with a non-obtrusive vocal power behind it. Talent wins <3

JPEGMAFIA released a new album and it's... beyond explanation? Alt hip hop with an amazing infusion of rock, gospel, dance elements. Dark, funny, slick as hell. Highlights: i scream this in the mirror before i interact with anyone, sin miedo (my fave, I think), don't rely on other men, vulgar display of power, Exmilitary (great use of samples), JPEGULTRA! (denzel!!!!!!!!! HORNS!!!!!!!!1), either on or off the drugs (one of my faves, absolutely), & loop it and leave it. If you're like "that's a lot of songs," okay well the entire album is good. 9.9/10 album

Recent Releases:

"Feel The Way" Peggy Gou. Just a solid dance track.

Ibibio Sound Machine's Black Notes is groovy and vocally ascendant.

"Leave" Low Hanging Fruits is Krock that feels straight out like... mid 2000s alt-pop rock. Just lively and lovely.

My blog title was taken from a Chase & Status song, so of course I need to shout out their collab with Stormzy, "Backbone." Just goes hard, is grimy as hell, and goes WUB WUB.

Want something that goes harder? Petit Brabancon, Japanese metal supergroup, is back and "Gankou" is... growling and intense and also just kinda fun.

Not here for music that might be a bit scary? "Edge of Saturday Night" The Blessed Madonna, Kylie Minogue is some eurodance to take the edge off.

If you like that track, try "Urallineed" by Jazzi Bobbi for some vaguely dancy indie pop. Love her voice.

This could've gone on the album review but honestly... Monkey Majik's new album is kinda Maroon 5-y and doesn't deserve a full shout out but give HYLMN a listen if you want to hear a fun, misremembered rip off of Blur's Song 2. Also, I guess the song Imposter.

"Check" by Flo is like... the kpop tracks inspired by Tinashe but... not kpop. Does that make sense? American, Fifth Harmony-esque song that feels like a kpop GG ripping off American Tinashe. A perfect feedback loop. Delectable.

"Out of Touch" Four Year Strong. Throwback, pop punk sound with a modern flourish.

"Nissan Altima" Doechii. As a Nissan driver, I had to rec this lmao. Great song, great flow, GET YA TITS SUCKED

"Tokyo" Sable Hills. Screamo :3 The guitar fucks

Older tracks: Keep Away by Carly Rae Jepsen (song to sway to), Bloom by Macico (the Japanese sound Harry styles tried to rip off), Thanks for Your Time by Gotye (dour and sensual) and Miss Fatty by Million Stylez (music to shake your ass to)

Posting this early because I know more music (Chungha, Bree Runway) is coming and uhhhh this post is already too full

[itoshiexx]

HI BB CAN I REQUEST 41 FOR THE KISS PROMPT W ISAGI AND FEM READER??🥺🫶

even when it rains

synopsis: yoichi is always by your side to shield you from the rain and help bring the sun once again.

pairing: isagi yoichi x gn!reader | words: 893 | warnings: established relationship, hurt/comfort, bad days, fluff

notes: god i had to repost this bc i accidentally deleted the other one (kill me),,, anyways, ANYTHING FOR U AIMEE!! tysm for requesting and i really hope u like it, i wanted to do something a bit different! <3 and if anyone would like to request something from the kiss prompts just see this post!

41. Kisses shared under an umbrella.

masterlist

“it’s raining.”

your voice catches him off guard — it's hoarse and meek like he has seen just a few times before. isagi supposes it’s better than the suffocating silence that was coating your living room for quite a while now, but he hates the sad undertones of his favorite melody.

confused, he turns to look at the window, only to see the sky in a pretty baby blue color. there are a few clouds scattered around, but none of them is gray, instead being a fluffy white that reminds him a lot of cotton candy. lastly, the sun shines and spreads its scorching heat through the town. there’s no indication that it’s raining whatsoever. 

“baby,” he starts, a bit hesitant. “it’s sunny.”

you’re not looking at him. your eyes are out of focus, staring at something that only you can see, and his heart breaks a little at the sight. that’s probably why he scoots closer to you, his arm circling your shoulder until your head gently lays on his clavicle. your skin feels cold to the touch, and he starts to rub your arm.

“are you cold?” he asks, kind as always. 

you nod. “i’m cold. it’s raining, yoichi.”

he furrows his eyebrows. maybe he looked at the wrong side of the window? or maybe it was those small summer drizzles? but he was absolutely positive there was no water falling from the sky. was he going crazy?

your shoulders hunch like the weight you carry is getting more unbearable by the second. you sigh, exhaling a long puff of air that screams how tired you are. isagi swears you tremble a little. 

“are you okay?” he can’t help but inquire, thinking your behavior is odd. “i’m sorry, sweetie, but i’m sure it’s not raining. the sky is crystal clear.”

and then you turn to face him for the first time, and yoichi’s breath gets stuck in his throat. he has never seen your expression so hollow, so defeated. like you’ve been trying to fight countless battles only to end up losing the war. 

“it’s raining, yoichi… it’s raining inside of me.” your voice fails, but he hears you nonetheless. his chest squeezes at the tears accumulating on your lash line, and his arm hugs you a little tighter. “please, make it stop.”

he wishes he could. isagi hated to see you sad or in pain, and if he could scoop these unpleasant feelings out of you, he would do it in a heartbeat. he would do anything to see you smiling again at him, or singing softly while cooking, or feeling content watching your favorite show on netflix. truthfully, he would do anything for you.

“did something happen?” he needs to know. did someone hurt you? 

“no, i just… i’m so tired,” you answer, and he can feel your exhaustion on his own bones. he can only wonder what it feels like to be in your body right now. “so, so tired. i can’t take it anymore. it keeps raining inside of me and it’s like i can’t bring the sun again.”

oh. it was one of your bad days, yoichi realizes. he just took a bit longer to understand because you never actually used a rain metaphor to describe your feelings, but maybe that was the way you found to cope with them. and who was he to not indulge you?

he calmly pulls his arm off you and stands up, patting his clothes before going inside the house. you watch with curious eyes, slightly confused by his lack of words and sudden movement, and they widen when you spot your boyfriend coming back with a yellow umbrella in hand, smiling sweetly.

he takes his place next to you, swiftly opening the umbrella and putting it above your heads. and he stares at you like you are nothing but the sun, and not a confusing rainstorm that could wreak havoc and destroy everything on your way. 

“there you go! now we’re protected from the rain.”

your mouth is slightly agape — although you expected to be comforted somehow (because yoichi never failed to do so), that was not what you had in mind. 

but he’s just like this, you think. always kind and loving, doing his best so that you are comfortable and never, ever scared of showing yourself and how you truly felt. every time he did these little things, it was like he was saying trust me, i won’t  judge you. 

the tears fall, but they don’t feel like rain. not anymore. 

“yeah,” you say, smiling faintly for the first time. “yeah, we are.”

his gaze is fond, and his fingers tenderly wipe your cheeks to stop your crying. it’s soothing and grounding, but again, yoichi always is. with a smile, he cups your jaw, and, when his face grows closer to yours, you don’t think twice before connecting your lips.

the love you feel for him pours from your heart until is all you can sense, and suddenly, the sky is clear again. there is just you and him, and he’s kissing you, and maybe, just maybe, the world isn’t so bad if you can have isagi yoichi to yourself like this. 

when you part, his whisper feels like a lifeline, “i’m here with you, baby.”

his hand finds yours, and your fingers interlace. 

“even when it rains.”

© 2023 itoshiexx. do not plagarise, translate, or repost any of my work on here or other sites.

[kidflashimpulse]

It's me again from the overexcited ramble from earlier BUT I'M NOT DONE

Bart knowing about Gar before others feels so real because he's spent his childhood surrounded by people who felt like Gar does right now, and maybe Gar (not to mention Bart himself) felt like that in the future as well. I wonder how well Bart knew BB in his own time, if he ever really knew him at all, and if it has impact on their current friendship

Oh to see the effects of Bart's childhood on his behaviour in the present, you've sprinkled bits and pieces, and I'm taking it all in like a starving man

And the Thawne DNA confirmed!! GOD it was so good, the love he has for his mom and the despise he has for his grandfather (not Barry obviously) is perfection, I hope Thad got what he deserved when Bart got out

And FINALLY the recognition he deserves with his intelligence, like you said: he knows his stuff. So happy to finally read a fic which shows that Bart is GOOD at what he does, he built a time machine for heaven's sake!

BUT ALSO TYE WAS SUCH A LEGEND LMFAO I love the friendship (or more like feigned frenemyship?) he has with Bart, their dynamic in your fic is hilarious

Okay that was all, thank you for reading this rollercoaster

Your work is absolutely incredible and I can't wait to see where the story/stories are going from here

love the energy 😍 sdfghjkl

yeah i like to think that as soon as gar came back from Mars bart took one look at gar and was like damn he’s going to be going through it

i just imagine mental illness would be extremely prevalent in bart’s original era, i think it’s by-product of a post-apocalyptic society that makes too much sense. And with no system in place to treat it as normal, well bart must have seen some pretty intense stuff

honestly i really don’t know (or have an idea lol) of how well bart new gar in his TL, in my opinion he didn’t know him personally at all. I’m usually in the camp that most of the team had died in one way or another in bart’s time. The ones that i usually do think he knew or knew of “in person” some what at the very least are Barbara Gordon, Wally West (this is a maybe), Lian and maybe that’s about it. It varies with either more members or less, hoe stay i’m unsure, but these r the ones that i typically think of. With how coy bart was when he first came to the past and spoke to gar, honestly anything is possible though lol

i just usually don’t think that the original members were as involved i. his childhoos as some fics make them out to be, one of the biggest reason is because i think the ones who were alive, dispersed to different locations to take part in rebelling etc so it would make it hard for him to know many personally, he might have heard of and gotten details, but beside that it’s really up in the air. The only HC i sometimes think of /include is Barbara Gordon being the one to teach him how to read/write etc education stuff when he was really young and the tornado twins were still alive (so before he was 5), but other than that, idk

“Thawne DNA confirmed” sdfghjkl LOVE THIS, yeah u heard it here first folks, it’s confirmed 😁 jk lol yeah it makes me super happy to include it in AAIT i feel like it really fleshes out his backstory on time related things and i just love all things related to him and his mom and his thawne side, it’s just very satisfying to think about so being able to explore that and HCs in my fic, very fun. I have such a specific vision for Thads involvement in Barts and (ofc as a result) Melonis lives and there will be a little more on that in future chapters, so stay tuned 🤩

PREACH omg the only thing that’s left for us is to see the day his wiki page is updated on it !! capability and intelligence to me is such a key bart feature idk if this make any sense but it just is lol i’d update the wiki myself if i could try to understand the editing process i just don’t have the energy to go thru reading all the rules or figuring it out to do it rn

tye + bart friendship is everything to me i just feel like they’d be rlly entertaining together just so much potential lol

thank u so much for sharing ur thoughts and kind words with me i appreciate it so much <33 and again thank u for reading AAIT, i really appreciate it 🧡

[telomeke-bbs]

BAD BUDDY EPISODE 5 – THAT MOMENT BEFORE THE SECOND KISS

I know it's been analyzed and commented upon a thousand times before but I'm backsliding and rewatching, so–

By Ep.5 [4/4] we had already known on an intellectual level that Pran had been pining for Pat for years. We got to see some of his POV, and shared in his heartbreak, with all the flashbacks of him watching Pat and Ink's affectionate moments in high school as well as in the present day (especially of Ink buying Pat the less sweet/still sweet iced milk tea in Hokkaido Coffee, at Ep.4 [2/4] 0.21).

But what BBS did in Ep.5 was to carry us along on Pat's journey of realizing he'd fallen for Pran, so that by the end of Ep.5 [4/4] the full weight of these mutual emotions was ever-present, soaking into every wretched look they gave each other on the rooftop. And in watching Pat stumble into the full onslaught of his feelings, we were pulled along into the awareness of how much it had to be counterbalanced by Pran's emotions too, suppressed within him for so long.

The biggest emotional slap for me on this rewatch isn't the first, tentative kiss that Pat lands, even though it's the culmination of his realization that he's fallen – hard – for Pran.

It isn't the second kiss, even though it reverberated around the world when this episode aired. It isn't even the moment Pran wrenches himself away and abandons Pat alone with his feelings, just as Pran himself was wrenched away, alone with his feelings, all those years ago too.

The moment that really slaps is the little pause before the second kiss, even though by now we know it's coming. Pat isn't sure how Pran is going to react – yes, there's that – but it's Pran who's holding the weight of this moment in his hands.

You can see him trying to balance out all the roiling emotions within himself with the sensible logic he's known for; he'd convinced himself it was all meaningless, that Ink had easily and clearly supplanted him, that there was no hope of a romantic future for him and Pat.

But he'd held this secret, burning love within himself for so long, bore the terrible yearning alone, and by then had had all hopes of a moment like this one, alone with Pat on the rooftop, crushed time and time again. And yet here was Pat, offering himself to him – honest, bare and vulnerable.

All he'd ever wanted for so long. But at the same time all wrong, impossible, will only end in tragedy.

"Things don't end well whenever I'm close to you" ringing in his head (Ep.1 [4/4] 3.28, Ep.2 [3I4] 9.01).

It's the age-old dilemma of head-versus-heart.

And for once, just once, Pran cedes a little. The king of self-denial decides that after years of desolate pining he'll throw it all to the wind and allow himself – not quite a moment of happiness – but the illusion of happiness, for he could never take Ink's place now then, could he? But he could experience what a tender, passionate moment with the love of his life would feel like, if only for a moment where he could just pretend that it was real and that there was hope for a future of them together.

So he goes in a second time, reaching out to pull Pat in, no holds barred, giving it his all. Because for Pran in this moment, this IS all there is. He cannot see it going anywhere beyond this rooftop assignation, but he takes it anyway because it's all he'll ever have of his beloved Pat, in the way that he wants.

And when he pulls away sobbing, he weeps in part because he knows that it's over, that it can never be anything more, and that he can never have anything more.

I weep along, as a lot of us do, because we know the bittersweet tragedy of having loved once, known its intimacy, and then being cast back into the despair of believing we'll never, ever have it in our lives again.

Thank God Pat never gave up on Pran. And to all who might be despairing, give yourself a second chance. Sometimes it's not all you've convinced yourself it will be.

Pran's moment of shattering grief here also tells us it's OK to give in and think of yourself from time to time, even if you're used to putting yourself last, denying your own happiness. You deserve it, even if you don't think so. And even if the happiness is only illusory or fleeting, who's to say there's not more of the real thing waiting for you the next time around, if you just give it a try? 💖