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sealofarchives · 9 months

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Prompt: filipino!reader with the turtles (separate)

Note: I'm filipino so if I get some stuff wrong, let me know and I'll make edits to this post

Leo

The day after your other family members showed up as a surprise visit. You apologized to the red slider turtle for slightly panicking. Trying to get him to the nearest window frame of a fire escape exit.

He waved off the apology, more interested that you knew spanish and didn't tell him about it.

You instantly looked at him with a confused expression.

"It's tagalog, not spanish."

It didn't help that Donnie overheard the conversation. While Leo felt a bit embarrassed, jumping to the conclusion of, confusing the language with something else.

"A total of 8 different dialects. There's more but, tagalog just happens to be the common language in the Philippines."

Just as the softshell turtle dropped off your papers with purple pen marks before heading back to his lab.

You still reassured Leo that he didn't mean to offend you. He let out a sigh of relief but, still thinks that its pretty cool that you're aware of your family's culture.

If you can speak it fluently, Leo will sometimes ask on what phrases you usually use.

Or if you're like me, who only knows a few words. He might tease you to try speaking some common phrases only if you're up to it.

Raph

Raph accidentally ran into one of your relatives. An aunt and uncle who were almost swindled out of a deal from Repo Mantis.

The alligator snapping turtle still managed to get them out of there safely. Now at a safe distance close to the Run of the Mill pizzeria.

He was still nervous at the thought of trying to escort them home until the aunt asked if he was okay.

Raph tried his best to hide the panicked tone in his voice until she gasped.

"Oh! You're one of (Y/N)'s friends!" "They're always talk about you and your brothers before any of us ask them about school!"

Timeskip a week later, they ordered pizza to thank Raph for getting them out of that situation. They couldn't stay for too long but still left with big smiles waving goodbye at the turtles.

"Uh, (Y/N). What does it mean if I'm being called 'Kuya Raph'?"

You chuckled saying "You're still the oldest brother of the group." "But it has more of a respectful manner. Since my other family members still use it for some of their friend groups."

"You know checking up on each other even when things aren't so great."

Raph smiled while you confidently stood your ground when his brothers try to find a teasing remark. Mikey eventually stepping back followed by Donnie who slowly grew bored of the banter. And you continued to playfully ignore Leo's idea of a bet that he could go a day taking over Raph's oldest brother role.

Mikey

You asked the box shell turtle for help trying to prepare pancit (a filipino noodle dish.) All of the ingredients laid out on the table and your mom's list with said instructions on cooking the food. You held onto the package containing rice noodles but hesitated opening it.

Mikey took notice of the frown on your face.

"Still nervous on trying to cook this dish on your own?" Mikey asked as you sighed

"Sort of... My mom has the 'oh you're doing this wrong...' whenever I try to cook something that isn't instant noodles." "So, sorry if I'm slow to this cooking thing..."

"Don't worry about what your mom thinks. I'm more happy that you asked for help! And I get to learn a new recipe from my best friend!"

The uneasy what if feeling slowly faded away as you and Mikey followed a few step by step videos with laughter filling the lively atmosphere.

After an hour passed, a knock from your apartment door signaled your mom and two of your relatives' arrival.

Before you told Mikey to hide, a light blue portal threw out a orange hoodie. With Mikey in a hurry putting it on.

"I might be on pizza duty for the next month but, I'm still not letting you face this alone!" Mikey said with a guaranteed grin on his face.

While the dish earned praise from your relatives, you felt more comfortable that Mikey vouched for you when your mom was still skeptical of the finished product. The relatives in agreement with him resulted in her giving up any further comments.

"(Y/N) could try making lumpia for their friends. And with how Mikey is helping them. They'll slowly get better at cooking!" Your grandma joked as you pretended not to sink below your chair.

A week later, at the lair, the three turtles often glancing back at the wrapped up uncooked spring rolls slowly beginning to stack a pile.

Donnie

"I know you said food or drinks aren't allowed at the lab but, I went out and got you halo-halo! To thank you for helping me with studying for the test next week."

"Halo-what-"

Donnie's eyes widen at the sight of the purple shaved ice dessert in a plastic cup. The spoon inside of the cup lid as he reached out now holding the drink in his hands.

"Is it actually purple or is it just the food dye that has purple in it?" Donnie said looking around the contents of the dessert while you laugh.

"I guess you never heard of ube aka purple yams. I had bread that used ube as filling. But, its been used in other pastries as well."

Donnie took a spoonful of the ube into his mouth and attempted to hide the smile on his face. But, savored the sweet treat with a light hum. He blinked noticing how he was the only one who got dessert.

"Wait, you didn't get one for yourself?" He asked as you lightly scratched your face.

"I only had enough money to buy one. And don't tell your brothers because I sort of waited when they went to the Run of the Mill pizzeria to get it. So..." You avoided eye contact finishing that sentence as Donnie got up from his seat.

"Well... Since you got me this refreshing dessert. I'm willing to let you take dibs for the first few slices of pizza. It will still apply to pineapple as well so no takebacks." Donnie immediately spotted at the grin slowly appearing on your face as you nodded.

Close to 45 minutes later, the turtles arrived back with the stack of pizza boxes. However...

"Hey, you two missed out on the limited time desserts they're giving out at the Run of the Mill pizzeria! We managed to get the last three while we waited in line. I forgot what it was called, something starting with two h's but, it has Donnie's favorite color-"

Donnie internally winced as you went to open the nearest pizza box. And took a slice without caring that it was one of your least favorite flavors. Mostly biting into the bread crust almost startling Mikey in the process.

[Note to self: repay back (Y/N) within this week with their favorite snack] (He does but both of you joke about that timing while taking a break from assignments)

#rottmnt x reader #leo x reader #raph x reader #mikey x reader #donnie x reader #I haven't written anything as of july 2023 #I'm keeping my distance away from wattpad because it got really terrible to the point of burnout but #these silly guys got me through the hell that was 2019 so #I'm gonna try to put my writing here despite how this site is such a hater towards x reader writing #aside from that I'm slowly getting out of writer's block ; w ;#I'll make a post about rules later into next week so for now I hope you enjoy reading this :]

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light-yaers · 2 years

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Right Where You Left Me: Chapter Nine

Fic Masterpost | AO3 | Chapter List

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, implied sexual content, flirting, eventual sexual content/smut, 18+

Listen to the RWYLM playlist here

A/N: i’m alive. barely, but alive! enjoy this filler before the main shenanigans happen in the next chapter. hold onto your hats.

Word Count: 6.9k

Chapter Nine

“Hey,” Heidi says, clicking her fingers. You hadn’t heard her at all, not until you’d jumped back into reality.

“What?” you let out quickly, slamming the bedroom door behind you. Heidi looks at you, confused.

“You okay?”

Poe Dameron just kissed me. I just kissed Poe Dameron.

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “Just peachy,”

You dream of him, through no fault of your own. It’s your brain, taunting you with the feel of his lips on yours and the way he pushed you up against the wall, sucking in deep breaths through his nose as he deepened the kiss. The feeling of his hands on your face was the most invigorating part; that’s what made you question his intentions.

Desire, sex, lust. You thought that was all Poe wanted.

But with the intensely soft way his thumbs swiped your cheeks as his lips were pressed against yours, you now had your doubts. Surely, a man who only wanted your body would keep his hands there—flush around your waist, sliding down the small of your back, slipping underneath your clothes.

Poe hadn’t done that.

He’d held your face. And after he pulled away, he kept hold of it, staring directly into your eyes as you both went through the same realisation at the exact same time—

We’re fucked, aren’t we?

Poe steps back after a few seconds of heavy breathing, raising his fingers to his lips as if he was still processing what the fuck just happened. His eyes scrape over you gently, taking in everything—your flushed face, your heaving chest, your trembling fingers.

He let out a long, shaking sigh, shoulders finally deflating as his energy is sapped away in the evening cold. “See you later,” he says lowly, and it was the most anticlimactic thing you’d ever heard Poe say.

He left after that, hands in pockets as he heads round the corner and towards the courtyard you just walked through.

See you later? Was that it?

After Heidi leaves, your body finally processes what just happened. The wanting, the craving, and everything in between. Those feelings from your youth hadn’t gone away; they’d simply been covered up by your attempts at closure, lying dormant until you saw the glint of his chest, the ruffle of his curls, and felt the softness of his lips on yours for the first time.

You spend the next week avoiding him like the plague. You think you’re doing it subconsciously, just taking routes around campus that you know he won’t be on, sitting in library spots that you know he doesn’t hover around.

At lacrosse practice that week, he doesn’t attend. Jessika covers the session, answering “Poe has exams before Christmas,” to anyone that asks why he isn’t on the field with you all. You fumble during a penalty shoot-out multiple times and choose not to join the other girls for an after-practice pint at the student union.

With a week until you’re due to depart home for Christmas, you dive into creative writing work and become a recluse, denying all of Heidi’s attempts to get you out to parties. There’s no way you’ll be able to face her—drunk—and not spill your guts over the floor to her.

You like Poe; maybe always have; maybe always will beyond the abrupt kiss—

And you don’t know how to process it at all.

Every time you close your eyes, the image of his face eats you alive.

A face that, soon, you’ll be spending the holidays with back in your hometown. Under the same roof, enjoying the same meals, drinking the same brand of beer and wine. Together at all fucking times.

Fuck.

You’re reading Othello in bed when the shrill ringing of your phone starts. You know it’s him before you even read his name on the screen. Poe Dameron.

With trembling fingers, you pick up the call.

“I’m outside,” he says, instead of hello. “Please let me in,” he almost whispers it, hints of uneasiness within his tone as if he’s imagining you hanging up and ignoring his wishes. Little does he know your heart is racing and your body is already inching out of bed, ready to buzz him up to your floor.

When you do, you know you only have a minute before he’ll reach you. You tidy rapidly, throwing clothes into your wardrobe and making your bed in record time, as if he’ll care about the state of your tiny room. You know he doesn’t give a shit, yet you can’t stop yourself from imagining outcomes—each one worse than the other.

That’s when it hits you—

He slept on the floor here, once.

You’d almost forgot.

He knocks on the door gently, tentatively, and you spring towards it immediately, pulling it open as a woosh of air from the corridor disturbs your already ruffled hair. As soon as your eyes hit his, you swallow like you have a secret.

Because you do—a secret about Poe, one that you don’t know how you’ll ever be able to tell him. Not if he doesn’t feel the same. Maybe even if he does, because... this won’t work, will it? You’d kill each other, you’d grow to hate each other, surely.

“Hey,” Poe says. His voice breaks, but it’s not funny. It cuts through you like a knife.

“I thought you had exams,” you let out, already inwardly panicking.

“I do— three tomorrow, actually,” he confirms, before his face softens and his eyes pool ever so slightly. “I just needed to see you,”

Another swallow. “Okay,”

You let him in and shut the door, standing in the middle of the room awkwardly as Poe sticks his hands in his pockets, not knowing where to place himself.

Through the suffocating silence, you inhale deeply. When you exhale, your breath shakes more than you want it to. Poe hears every tremble, frowning at you as you wrap your arms around yourself, trying to find some sense of stability.

“Okay—let’s just address the elephant in the room,” he bursts suddenly, but you’re thankful for it. His voice perks up and his eyes stop drooping so sadly and he actually takes a step towards you, bridging the awkwardly cold gap between you two when you know neither of you want to be this distant.

Hell, you kissed him, didn’t you?

And hell, he’d wanted you to, hadn’t he?

“We kissed,” Poe says. You nod once, already feeling better and more normal again.

“We did,”

“And we enjoyed it,”

“Yep,” you say firmly. “We enjoyed it,”

“A lot,”

You snap your stare onto him, and it’s written all over his pretty boy face—kissing you had turned him on, turned him on to such levels that he’d found himself pressing you up against the wall with his hands gripped onto your face and heart fully in his throat.

“Yeah,” you admit in agreement. “A lot,” another swallow. Your mouth is suddenly so dry that an immense feeling of thirst infiltrates your entire body.

“Okay, this is good,” Poe lets out, smiling suddenly with some kind of triumph. “This is good, we’re being honest and open and this is good,” he’s rambling despite the smile on his face, and you know that he’s panicking at this confession. You just know.

“Poe—,”

“When are we ever open, huh? This is progress, this is development—,”

“Poe,” you urge, and he stops abruptly, staring at you with wide eyes. You can hear his entire body buzzing with adrenaline. It permeates the walls of your room like termites chewing through wood.

He’s afraid, like a deer in headlights, or some other overused simile for blatant, unfiltered fear. His shoulders are stiff, his hands are balled into fists and, sure, he’s smiling, but it’s not from real, solid relief—it’s from the utter fucking terror of having these questions answered and realising that this isn’t something you’re both going to move on from in an hour.

It's there, sitting on of you both, like a fifty-kilo dumbbell atop your chests.

And this is the kind of workout that you were going to feel for a long time after; like leg day after leg day after leg day, never allowing your torn muscles to heal.

You take a step towards him, reaching out gently to grip his wrist—just one, just with your fingers. He unclasps his fist slowly, like you just put a spell on him and softened his entire body. His shoulders slump forward, and he lets out a pent-up breath.

You relax him immediately with nothing more than a simple touch.

“I’m scared,” you whisper, letting all your thoughts and emotions pool on your tongue. “And you already know why— I told you on the way back from Thanksgiving—and that hasn’t gone away, it’s just got fucking worse since we—,”

“Kissed,” Poe takes the word out of your mouth. “Yeah, me too,” he admits, but there’s this nasty curl of his lip that makes your heart lunge towards him.

“What’s that?” you ask him, quizzically taking in the look on his face and knowing that he’s holding something back.

“What?”

“That look, like you’re in your head about something,”

“What look? There’s no look,”

You perk your brow at him. He crumbles within half a second. Classic.

“Fine,” he lets out, a mixture of annoyance and anxiety on his face. “You know I slept with that girl last week?”

Ouch.

“Yes,” you force out, but it’s obvious to see that him bringing it up hurts you. He steps forward ever so slightly, so you can feel the heat radiating from his chest into yours.

“I lied,”

What?

“What?” you whisper, but you don’t actually need him to repeat himself. It’s stamped all over his fucking face—he lied about sleeping with that girl. To everyone. “Why?”

“I don’t know—to just go along with it? When you laid out the whole plan on the drive back, I didn’t know what to think,” you frown immediately. He only lied because you came up with such a confusing and unnecessary sex plan.

“I’m sorry, it was dumb and stupid and I—,”

“You did what you thought was best at the time,” Poe cuts over you. “I’m not mad at you for that,” you recoil slightly, sucking in a deep breath.

“It sort of... seemed like it,” you say hesitantly. “After we got back, you started acting really distant for the rest of the night,”

Poe’s face flashes with realisation. He looks at the floor, biting on his lip painfully. Maybe he thought he’d got away with acting that way, since you never brought it up till now.

“You noticed that?” he asks.

“Noticed? Poe—you wouldn’t look me in the fucking eye. And then, when I finally figured out why you were being so avoidant—,”

“Why was I?” he interrupts, whipping his gaze back to you.

“Because my plan was wrong and we both felt pressure by it,” you say simply. Poe widens his eyes.

“Go on,” he says lowly.

“When it hit me why, Poe—I went to find you, to say it would all be fine and we could work through this in a different way,” your eyes droop involuntarily. “I found you kissing that girl,”

It comes back to you in waves, each one as hurtful as the other as you remember the entire ordeal. Theo’s protective speech, the sticky floorboards, Poe’s back turned to you and his hands roaming all over her, right in front of your face.

It was awful to have seen it first hand, but that sting came back tenfold when you thought about it now; with Poe stood before you and the warmth of his chest surrounding you.

“I thought that was what you wanted,” he whispers it, and as he does some part of you crumples, collapses, combusts.

“I know,” you acknowledge him. You know he’s done nothing wrong, but you can’t deny the hurt that you felt that night, can’t deny that this was all your fault from the beginning. “I figured it out two minutes too late,”

“I wasn’t planning on doing anything at first, or going along with it,” Poe starts. “I don’t know... I was upset, I guess. I started talking to her and then she kissed me, and it just felt better to continue than to stop. I did stay around her place, but we didn’t fuck. We just, talked. About nothing,” he sighs, shakily. “And then I lied. I fucked up the night,”

“No,” you grip onto his wrist tighter. “I ruined it,”

“But then I lied,” he repeats.

“I don’t blame you,”

“I do. I blame me,”

“Then, I forgive you,” you blurt out, using all your strength to look directly into his eyes. His big, brown, soft eyes. Ones that make you crack into a thousand pieces. “I forgive you for lying,”

“I forgive you for the game,” Poe says softly, finally reaching out a hand to rest against your cheek. This feels full circle, like one of the arguments you’d had when you were kids.

Both in the wrong, both apologising and forgiving the other. Poe’s thumb swipes across your cheek and that’s when the breath catches in your throat; that feeling, that softness, it was something you’d lived without for over seven years. You have no idea how you fucking survived that long.

“God— just come here,” Poe mutters, spluttering out the words before you bombard into his chest. He wraps his arms around you strongly, holding you against him as he ducks his head down and rests his cheek upon the top of your head.

You close your eyes when you both settle, comfortable with things being sorted and out in the open; comfortable in each other’s arms. How did it come to this? A back and forth that lasted seven years, and then some, all for it to cumulate into this—

Feelings and emotions.

Ew.

“Poe?”

“Hmm?”

“What do we do now?” it was an incredibly vague question, and you knew Poe so well that you knew he wouldn’t go for the deep side. He’d go for the side that would cheer you both up, that would delay any further battles of your feelings.

“I don’t know,” he says, breathing out deeply. “Taco Bell?”

You laugh to yourself immediately, shuffling your head so it’s fully plunged into his chest, your face flush against the softness of his cotton t-shirt. You stay there, listening to the sound of his heartbeat, to his blood pumping through his veins, to—well, just him.

“I could go for a crunch-wrap,” he adds, a perkiness back within his voice. “Could you go for a crunch-wrap?”

“You have three exams tomorrow,”

“All the more reason for me to eat some brain food,”

“It’s almost midnight,”

“Prime brain food hours if you ask me,”

You tug yourself away then, shooting him an amused, but oddly sad smile. You want to stay with him, want to talk and laugh and everything in between, but Poe has a lot on his plate right now; the least of it being you.

“Do you have the time?” you ask softly. He huffs to himself fondly.

“I’ll always have time for you,” he says it so simply that it almost doesn’t sound like something so pure, so sweet, so soft. “I spent most of this week studying, anyway,”

Twenty minutes later, you and Poe are sat in the 24-hour Taco Bell a ten-minute drive out from campus. Bundling yourself up in two jumpers and a scarf, you both walked to Poe’s house and took Shara’s car out to the restaurant, warming up next to the heat of the engine.

It’s almost empty, only populated by the occasional drunk student that wanders in and orders, while slurring their words, before they retreat to whatever party they came from.

Poe eats half his crunch-wrap before he even says another word, scoffing it down like air he needs to breathe. “You kissed someone,” he mutters, eyes flittering over your hunched form, mid mouthful of food. You almost choke on tortilla.

“Huh?” you cough out.

“You told me you kissed someone, that night at the party,”

Theo.

You’d almost fucking forgot about that, too drunk and over-emotional to even fucking remember that he’d hastily kissed you, just to avoid someone seeing you cry in a bathtub. This is complicated. Theo is one of Poe’s best-friends. Sure, it didn’t mean anything, but you’d never expected that he’d ask again.

“Uh, yeah,” you say, swallowing too big a mouthful so your throat physically hurts. “I did,”

Poe gazes at you with a look that you can’t pin down immediately; curiosity mixed with something devilish, almost like he’s setting you up. It takes you a few seconds to divulge, a few seconds to rationalise. Did Poe really care?

Or... did he already know who it was?

“You already know, don’t you?” you let out, stomach dropping into your lower gut. Poe only huffs, and you know you’re right. “He told you,”

“In the store, after we bumped into you,” he confirms, taking another colossal bite from his crunch-wrap and swallowing it like it was nothing. “Theo’s not a very good liar, or secret keeper,”

“He’s a good guy,” you blurt out, somehow feeling an obligation to stick up for him. “He did me a solid that night, to be honest. He... he was there for it all,” you look down at your food, suddenly not hungry at all in the slightest. Your appetite has been taken away by the entire conversation at hand. Reliving that night had never been something high up on your list of wants.

Poe regards you thoughtfully, wiping his hands on a napkin as you struggle with where to place your eyes. Not on him; anywhere but him; because if you look at him then he’d know everything that you’re feeling.

Embarrassment. Childishness. Vulnerability.

“He told me everything that happened,” Poe starts, leaning his elbows on the table. “The talk he gave you, all the way up to him taking you back to the house,” you wince. Poe knew about the bathtub, then.

Your cheeks warm violently. You can’t stop it from happening.

“Great,”

“Crying in a bathtub doesn’t seem your style,”

“I didn’t think so, either. Guess I was wrong,” you let out a deep breath, trying to piece everything together.

After your abrupt meeting in the store, Theo had spilled his guts all over the fucking floor. It was fair enough; keeping something this big from his best-friend must have weighed heavy on his conscience.

That truth-telling had prompted Poe to come after you, to confront you.

“That’s why you followed me,” you say softly. “Because you found out how much of a wreck I was,” a disgusted chuckle follows your words, but not for Poe—for you. For your reaction, for your behaviour in general that entire night and beyond.

“I knew something was wrong before then,” Poe fiddles with his fingers, speaking lowly, like he’s trying to control how fast the words tumble from his mouth. “I wanted to ask, but I didn’t know how—not with all the guilt I felt from lying, anyway,”

“We both lied,” you realise. “You lied about her, and I lied about being fine,” you finally meet his eye, and when you do it’s like the entire restaurant freezes. It’s just you two—you and Poe, alone, together, eating junk food and spilling your deepest, darkest secrets all over the plush seats of the booth you sit in.

“Do you want me to say it?” Poe asks, almost whispering the words.

“Say what,” it’s not a question; it’s a hazardous demand. Your heart starts crawling up into your throat, too erratic for you to swallow it back down to your chest.

“The truth,”

A part of you wants to explode. You want to jump up and embrace him, kiss him, hold him, tell him that yes—fucking hell yes—you like him and have for fucking ages, just never realised until you felt his lips on yours and everything else faded away.

You want him to feel the same so badly. You want him to yell in this empty fucking Taco Bell that it’s taken you both seven fucking years to realise that maybe, just maybe, this friendship has always meant more.

Instead, you bite your tongue.

“That we both need to stop drinking?” you let out, instantly trying to reverse the deep and emotional nature of the conversation that looms before you. Poe huffs at your words, smiling to himself so sweetly that it makes your chest convulse.

“That’s not gonna happen with Christmas around the corner,” he plays along, looking up at you with curls over his forehead and eyes so reflective and big that they remind you of the damn lake. “But no—not that,”

“Spit it out,” you say, trying to act so upbeat and normal and platonic that you feel insane. You take a bite out of your crunch-wrap—too big of a bite—in an attempt to stop yourself from saying anything stupid.

“That this isn’t just about sex anymore,”

Your mouth is so full of food that you can’t breathe. You suck in air through your nose and exhale, slowly chewing your way through the mouthful as you stall for as long as possible. There’s no way in hell you’re processing any of Poe’s words in this amount of time, but you still try.

You try so hard that your brow starts to sweat, ever so slightly.

When you finally swallow, you clutch your hand to your chest and hold it there—your heart is still beating, isn’t it? Your blood is still pumping, right?

“Right,” is all you can say. Poe finds it amusing instantly; the speechlessness of you.

“We’re on a date right now,” he chuckles out, and you implode. You snap your gaze onto him.

“No, we are not,” you deny.

“Yeah, we are. We’re having an evening meal together,” Poe’s smile only gets wider.

“We’re in an empty Taco Bell at one in the morning,”

“We’re sat opposite each other, eating food—,”

“I wouldn’t exactly call a crunch-wrap food—,”

“That I’m gonna pay for—,”

“I—wait,” you hold your breath. “You’re gonna pay?”

“Of course,” Poe says, leaning in closer, bridging the gap between you both at the booth. “Because it’s a date,”

“A man paying solely for a date is an outdated and frankly mean tradition that was created by idiots,” you hit back with incredible speed.

“You’re right,” Poe immediately agrees, and that’s the major red flag here for you—Poe Dameron, agreeing with you? It was like some other man had killed him and crawled inside the skinsuit; like some alien was wearing Poe Dameron’s face and taking you out on a date with it.

Ew.

“But, this is our first date,” Poe continues, and you hate to admit it but now—now his words are getting to you. They’re diving beneath your skin and causing butterflies to override all your organs. “And it’s Taco Bell. It’s not like we’re at a Michelin star restaurant,”

“I wish we were,” you burst out smally, ignoring the growing heat of your cheeks.

“Name one,” Poe says, smiling at you with a mixture of amusement and mischief. “I’ll take you there,”

So, this is what it feels like to be on the receiving end of his moves? Your face flushes violently as you try not to flip the fucking booth table. The inescapable urge to both jump his bones and jump him in the parking lot is overwhelming.

Residual energy from your hatred, your endless fights, still comes through—despite the omission of feelings, despite the kiss— you still wanted to punch him sometimes.

Now was one of those times.

You squeeze your eyes shut painfully and clutch your hands together in your lap. Your forehead vein comes out to play, as you fight against every urge within your very soul. Poe stares at you all the while, taking in your sweat dotted brow, your hot-as-the-sun cheeks, your subtly shaking shoulders.

“Too much?” he backtracks, and you force yourself to look at him.

“Mhm,” is all you can get out.

“Too much bad or too much good?” he asks, and the smirk on his pretty face is enough to send your gut into a frenzy. It’s both, but it’s mostly good, which almost makes it bad. God.

“Just—stop talking,” you press, trying to compose yourself. Poe doesn’t reply, choosing instead to scrape his eyes all over your flustered expression.

This is exactly what he wanted, isn’t it? To see you freak out, to know, to feel it. To know that he was the reason you couldn’t stand it in this grotty, empty Taco Bell at one in the morning with too bright lights that exposed all of you; every feeling etched all over your face like words written in a tabloid magazine.

Poe Dameron seduces his best friend! Hot news inside!

Only when he got his fill did his face soften into something less boyish. His shit-eating grin was transformed into something full of care, something that couldn’t get enough of you.

“Shall we put a pin in this conversation?” he whispers, allowing you to catch your breath for the first time in minutes. You take him in.

“You mean, save it for another time?”

“A time where I don’t have exams for the next week and where our families won’t be seeing us together for two whole weeks,” he clarifies. You smile, relieved.

“Works for me,” and it did. Processing took time. For both of you. “Any rules?”

“What?”

“For Christmas,”

“I think you and I make rules just so they can be broken, you know?” Poe let out, and he’s absolutely right. Every rule always ended with one or both of you breaking it. There was no fucking point trying.

“Good point,” you sigh, finally allowing yourself to calm down fully.

Poe pays for the food, just like he said he would. The drive back is calm, probably the calmest you’ve ever felt in the car with him. It’s dark out, and the moon casts rays over the lightless streets leading back to college. He drops you off at campus, cutting the engine, and a silence drifts over you.

It’s almost pitch black, and nothing makes a sound. The world sleeping makes it seem like it’s just you and him, Poe and you, and nothing else whatsoever. Maybe it’s always been like that. You’d just never seen it until now.

“Good luck,” you say first, taking the plunge. “Your exams,”

Poe nods his head, small smile appearing on his face. “Thank you,”

It’s not awkward, it’s just quiet. For the first time in ages, there’s nothing that either of you desperately need to discuss with one another. It’s out in the open, right in front of your fucking noses, clarity of the feelings that you both share.

“See you in a few days,” you land on, reaching for the door.

“I’ll pick you up on Friday,”

“Okay,” you say, but it’s not just a normal okay. You smile at him, beaming, like you really have just been on a date and he’s dropping you back home and already thinking about the next time you’ll jump in his car to who knows where.

“Okay,” he taps the wheel, and you finally let yourself out.

Poe drives off into the night, and your heart finally settles to a beat that doesn’t make you feel faint.

It feels like no time has passed, when you fling yourself into Shara’s car at the end of the semester—but it also feels like it’s been seven years all over again. Poe’s absence had got to you more than you’d thought it would over the past few days.

Which made you feel crazy, almost.

But, seeing his face again also made you feel good. Really fucking good.

“Drive,” you urge him immediately, and the amusement on his face is apparent.

“Someone’s eager,”

“Drive, or she’ll catch us—,”

“Hey!” a scream rips through the atmosphere, prompting Poe to flinch into his skin. You send him evil eyes, ones that say I told you to drive. “You two dicks were really going to leave without saying goodbye, weren’t you?”

Poe lets out a scoff, turning to the passenger side window as Heidi leans down outside the window. You roll it down, shooting her a guilty smile.

“Of course, not,”

“Lying doesn’t suit you, girl,” she says. It’s one of her favourite things to say about you. Meanness doesn’t suit you, girl. Eating beans out of the can doesn’t suit you, girl. Doing shooters without me doesn’t suit you, girl.

“Hello, Heidi,” Poe says sweetly, but it’s tinged with falseness, with sarcasm. Heidi sends him a sly glance.

“You, Sir, have an excuse. This girl, however, does not,”

“Oh yeah—,” you turn to Poe. “How did exams go?”

“They— went. They went,” Poe replies. Obviously, he doesn’t want to talk about it right now.

“You know our mom’s will grill you, right?”

“Oh, I know,”

“Is today ignore Heidi day, or something? ‘Cause I should really put it in my calendar for next year,” Heidi boomed from the window. You shot a smirk back at her, laying your fingers over her knuckles softly.

“Sorry,” you say sincerely. “Have a great Christmas, Heidi,”

“That’s more like it,” she approves. “You and golden boy here better have a miserable time without me,”

“We will. We’ll have the worst time,” Poe pipes up, and you scoff through your teeth.

This feels secretive. This feels dangerous. Heidi knows nothing about the recent developments, nothing about the kiss, nothing about—you and Poe—from the recent days.

“Don’t forget about me,” Heidi lets out, voice slightly waning. You squeeze her hand, sending her a warm look.

“Not possible,” you say.

“Never,” Poe adds.

“Good,” Heidi twists her hand, so her own fingers clutch onto yours. “Have a great Christmas, guys,”

Poe starts the engine and puts the car into drive. Heidi grips onto your hand mightily, up until Poe’s slowly edged you both out of the pick-up and drop off zone on campus.

“She loves you,” Poe says softly, after you’ve left the front gates.

“I love her back,”

“Match made in heaven, if you ask me,”

He was right.

From the moment you and Poe arrived back at your house, you were treated like royalty. Your mother was full of festive spirit, passing eggnog around like it was water and repositioning tinsel around the entire house. She wore tiny baubles as earrings.

Shara kissed your forehead when she arrived in the evening, having come from her father’s. Her and Poe talked in warm whispers as they embraced, catching up on their own before everyone else. It was like nothing had changed, like you were still teenagers that made pancakes in the morning with your mom, that still played on your old PlayStation 2, that sat in the garage now, gathering dust.

Having a Christmas with the Dameron’s had never felt like such a treat. It was one you’d never take for granted again, not after the last seven years of distance and the past few months of realisation.

The holiday’s in your house is always a joyous time. Your mother’s incessance at always having nibbles and food available, alongside a crisp glass of white wine in her red polished hands at all times, made for a festive environment throughout the entire house. But what made it better was her laughter—her and Shara, together again after so long.

Shara is to your mother what Heidi is to you, you realise. They gabble like teenage girls and clutch each other’s thighs when they’re dying of laughter. They watch old Christmas movies, John Hughes movies, Hallmark movies, every kind of film that reminds them of growing up.

You lean against the archway to the open plan living room, watching them on the couch with their giggling bellies and red faces.

They look beautiful, gleaming like Christmas angels in the sky.

“Are they drunk yet?” Poe sneaks up behind you and whispers into your ear. You shiver at his words, at his breath on your neck, but you don’t pull away.

“It’s Christmas time. Of course, they’re drunk,”

“Perpetually,”

“Obviously,”

“Good,” Poe ends on, as you turn to take in his mischievous smile; it was his expression you loved the most, next to how he looked at you sometimes. You flick your eyes over his face, copying his same smile.

“What?” you exhale, almost like you’re chastising him in advance for whatever it is he’s planning, but also in a way that tells him I’m in.

Poe tells you nothing as you bundle on coats and boots, ready to take on the outside world. It’s cold as ice in your tiny, little town, so much so that your breath is visible as you exhale. It encases you, like the clouds that refuse to cover the sky this evening, leaving the stars on full display.

You leave through the backdoor, walking down to the end of your large garden, surrounded by grand oak trees that overlook the other houses on the blocks behind yours. It clicks as soon as Poe stampedes forwards—

“The wall?” you question, and his enthusiastic smile is the only answer you need.

At the back of your garden sits a wall. It’s tall, it’s mighty, covered in wandering ivy and a winding rosebush that you and your mom planted when you were young.

“The wall,” Poe replies, as the two of you stare up at it. You can still remember every foot hole to climb it—so does Poe, as he immediately starts to climb. You scoff to yourself, both impressed at him while harbouring a feeling in your gut that can only be anxiety.

You know how this goes. Nostalgia stuck to you and Poe like some kind of chicken pox. Whenever you both felt it, other feelings rose to the surface alongside the memories—a warmth, a love, a pain.

With you, it made you want to latch onto him like there was no tomorrow. You wanted to laugh with him, wanted to stand next to him in the kitchen or the hallway at a party just to be physically close to him. You wanted to always be around him, wanted to think of those past times always—but this wasn’t like when you were young.

It would never be the same.

You think he’s the same, think he’s trying to prove himself a better person. With his degree of care and concern, his inability to let things go, his want to show you what he’s made of himself and how that means you can still love him; maybe even love him more— you and Poe were suckers for reliving the glory days.

Maybe it’s because you didn’t know any better.

Hence— the wall.

“It’s smaller now,” Poe comments, as he reaches the top and sits atop the wall. He looks down at you, reaching out his hand below. It’s your turn.

You hoist yourself up the wall obediently, remembering every crevice for your fingers and every ledge for your feet. When you’re close to the top, you grab Poe’s hand warmly. He squeezes it gently, helping you up the rest of the way like you weighed nothing whatsoever.

Dropping yourself down next to him, you dangle your legs off the edge of the wall and let out a pent-up breath. It circles between both of your heads, like an invisible string tying you together.

“Any reason why we’re sat here in the freezing cold? My butt is already going numb,” you ask, amusement on your lips. Poe regards you, and you know he’s thinking about your butt comment.

“Can two friends not sit on a wall and enjoy the evening sky?” Poe says playfully.

“Sure,” you nod. “But, not when we’re the two friends in question,”

“You got me,” Poe admits defeat immediately. “I lured you up here on the pretence of memories from our childhood,”

“Sneaky,” you point at him, accusatory, sarcastically. “I had no idea,”

Poe grabs your finger abruptly, clutching onto it the way a child would to an adult. You’re so stumped that you don’t even pull away, too focused on the playful way he’s staring at you.

Then, as if by magic, he pulls a joint out of your ear—like a fucking drug dealing magician.

Of course, you’re not five years old and know he didn’t actually pull it from your ear. He only faked it, providing the movie magic that you both grew up on in Disney movies. He hovers the joint in front of your nose, so close you can smell it.

“You brought us to the wall from our childhood to smoke?” you question, but it’s rhetorical.

“Don’t act like this isn’t the best way to re-christen this spot,”

“Don’t say christen,” you say quickly. “You christen a house, you don’t christen a wall,”

“You christen a house by having sex,” Poe interjects. “Not that I’m not thrilled about the prospect of wall sex, but the logistics make it almost impossible, you know?”

You burst into chuckles, the kind where your crush has made you laugh, and your cheeks are flushed like a schoolgirl.

God, control yourself.

“So, I chose a joint instead,” he says, utterly proud of himself.

You indulge him; just this once; just because it’s Christmas.

“Sad,” you let out. “What if I wanted wall sex?”

Poe lets out a low whistle, maybe as a way to expel the sudden feeling of his gut dropping. You burst into more giggles. They feel good, they hit your chest gently and as hard as rocks at the same time, but the fear you felt before is still subdued at the moment—so you embrace them; you embrace the schoolgirl giggles happily.

“You trying to kill me, here?” Poe shoots you a side glance, eating up your features like he hadn’t had a hot meal in years.

“If I wanted to kill you, I’d push you off this wall,”

“Excellent murder plan,” Poe scoffs. “You could blame it on the drugs too, make it an accident,”

“No one would ever know,”

Poe sparks up the joint with a zippo, clicking it shut after the end is lit and smoking. He inhales deeply, before letting the smoke out of his lungs.

“Only you’d know the truth,” he says, strained slightly from the inhalation.

“Which, to some, would mean they live a prison-free life,” you add, as Poe passes you the joint. “I wouldn’t,”

“Why?” he asks, bending his knee into his chest and resting his foot on the wall.

You inhale deeply into your lungs, feeling the acrid smoke invade every sense in your body. It’s been a while since you’ve smoked. You allow yourself to relax as you exhale.

“The guilt would eat me alive,” you admit. “It would be like Edgar Allen-Poe, like the heartbeat beneath the floorboards, except it’s your stupid laugh haunting me everywhere I go,” Poe only listens. “I’d turn myself in. I’d go crazy,” you turn to him, offering him the joint again.

It takes him a few seconds to take it from you, and when he does the look on his face has softened. His eyes like warmer, more romantic, almost. They’re big and his pupils are so dilated that you can’t see an ounce of brown in them, just black, a deep and soft black that encases his eyes. They reflect the streetlamps below and the stars in the sky.

You’re hyperaware of his fingers grazing yours when he takes the joint for himself.

“You look cute when you’re plotting my murder,” Poe says, as if it’s the most normal thing to say. Your chest lurches beneath your ribs, the tips of your fingers buzzing with sudden adrenaline.

You scoff abruptly, flustered. “Oh, fuck off,” it’s a reflex. Poe laughs next to you, knowing he made your heart hammer just a bit more.

Taking turns, you share the joint in comfortable silence. There’s something so mundane yet out of the ordinary about this—the familiar setting of the wall, the same occupants of you and Poe—but it’s laced with something utterly new.

Poe’s feelings for you. Yours for him. The growth, the changes, the fact you’re smoking a fucking joint and looking at the sky together like it’s the most normal thing you’ve ever done. It’s zero degrees, you lost feeling in your fingers ten minutes ago and your mouth is as dry as an overcooked turkey, but there is honestly no place you’d rather be.

You shiver next to Poe, the cold seeping into your very bones, prompting him to look you up and down.

“Cold?”

“That goes without saying,” you stutter out, laughing at your own words a little.

“Come here,” he offers, lifting an arm to drape around your shoulders. He hovers it above you first, waiting for your approval. You agree by shuffling yourself on the wall closer to him, leaning yourself into his body, his chest. Poe drops wraps his arm around you, clutching onto you warmly.

His chin rests on your head, another reminder that he’s bigger than you, now. Broader, stronger, taller. Grown.

“Better?” he whispers, and you’re hit with the realisation that, perhaps, he wants reassurance for this. This motion, this intimacy. You haven’t covered the ground rules, don’t know what’s okay until you do it.

“Better,” you say, already feeling warmer, inside and out.

You close your eyes, hearing his heartbeat, feeling the muscles beneath his coat, knowing he’s there.

Perhaps this will be the merriest Christmas you’ve ever had.

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