#yeah I had to split it up into chunks this time

[ithebookhoarder]

Hello hi ! 🤗

Can you do a "bau reacts" when they are undercover in public and about to be found out so the reader just starts making out with them to pretend they are just a couple?

(BAU Headcanons) Making out Undercover

A/N: Mwahaha. Oh, this is a good prompt. Thanks for making me daydream all afternoon. Enjoy my lovelies 😉 Also, as a note, I'm writing the main BAU where I'm at watching it (season 13) plus Luke as he was requested previously 💕

Warnings: Mentions of threat, mentions of weapons, alcohol references, sexual references, implied cases / unsubs. (Let me know if I missed any)

Aaron Hotchner

We know Aaron doesn’t go undercover for most cases, so this would have to be a big case to get him into the field. 

This man would be in shock. Let’s be real. He would freeze in place and try to argue for a split second until he realises what you’re trying to do and why - even if you were already together. 

As soon as they’re gone though, you’d glance up and see his usual steely glare that tells you you’re in for a scolding once this is over. 

However, you’d have to be blind to miss the way he lingers for a moment, holding you close for half a second longer than necessary. 

“I feel I should remind you that we are in the field, and whilst it may have worked, I can’t endorse it as a tactic in future. Understood?” 

“So I’m hearing that we’re leaving this off of our case report then?” 

“Agreed. I don’t need to give Strauss anything else to use to go after us and the team.”

He would roll his eyes and take off after the Unsub, but you’d have to be blind to miss the way he smirks as he goes. 

David Rossi 

He’d be a little embarrassed but mostly quite smug about the whole thing, even if you were supposed to be undercover. 

“Well, I can safely say in all my years in this field I don’t think that’s ever happened to me before.” 

He’d also refuse to let you apologise for your actions afterwards either. 

One, because he’s kind of flattered. 

Two, because he’s been around the block a few times and knows that sometimes you have to do what it takes to solve a case or protect yourselves. 

Three, you were supposed to be a couple and kissing is what couples do. He’s only sour because if anything he would have liked to be the one who kissed you. 

“Relax about it, would you? I won’t tell you some of the things Gideon and I had to do back in the old days. That was before all this new paperwork and guidelines, so that’s all I’ll say on the matter.” 

You make a point of remembering to ask him about that at your next night off over drinks. 

Derek Morgan

Derek is always up for anything so I feel like he’d be pretty relaxed about being undercover with you, even if you weren't together romantically. He has no issue playing your pretend boyfriend for one night, and is quick to wrap his arm around you. 

Which is why it would be such a surprise to him when it’s you who initiated the kiss. 

Derek would freeze for like a second, but only out of shock. However, you know he wouldn’t fight you on it. 

The second his brain catches up to his body he would be kissing you back, doing everything in his power to match your energy and sell this kiss. 

If anything, you’re going to have to be the one to break away once the coast is clear and remind him you’re still technically in the field and that your team is probably wondering where the hell you are right now - and why you stopped responding to your comms. 

“I’m just saying, if we get to do that then we need to be partnered up more often.” 

“Yeah yeah, Morgan. Let’s just hope Penelope didn’t see that else we’ll never be hearing the end of it.” 

Emily Prentiss

She’s been undercover plenty of times in her life and spent a whole chunk of time actually fake-married to Doyle for an op, so she’d be the most comfortable and understanding if you grabbed her for a kiss - especially if you were meant to be a fake couple. 

She’d work it out pretty quickly and would respond in kind, pressing herself against you and running her hands all over you. 

“Quick thinking with the kiss,” she’d whisper as she brushed a kiss against your neck. 

She’d also know exactly where the Unsub is afterwards too, having kept watch in her peripheral vision. 

She wouldn’t even have to break eye contact with you before she informed you, “3 o’clock. He just left out the fire exit.” 

With that, she’d be off. 

She also probably wouldn’t even bring it up again until you’re both back on the jet. Then she’d be smirking at you across the top of her drink and chuckling to herself. 

“Normally I’d insist dinner first but given that we caught that bastard I think we’re even.” 

JJ

JJ knows about going undercover and it takes a lot to rattle her. She would probably go along with the action, even if she’d stay kind of stiff for a good minute or so. 

However, she’s a good agent and knows about maintaining a cover so quickly catches on when you pull her in. 

She’d return the kiss, shooting glances out the corner of her eye when she thinks it might be safe to check on their target. If it doesn’t look like they’re buying it, she’ll turn things up a notch and spin you around so that she could take control. 

“My gun is under my jacket. Reach for it slowly if he comes any closer,” she’d warn, but thankfully you don’t need it. Eventually they leave, distracted by something else, leaving you and JJ to recover.

After catching your breath, you both take off in the direction your target just left in. You can tell JJ is trying not to laugh about what just happened, choosing to make it funny rather than uncomfortable if you weren't together romantically.  

Which means you know she’d enjoy teasing you about it in front of the others, making your cheeks burn as she announces on the jet: “For the record, even though it was a ‘cover kiss’ it was pretty good. Just saying. Maybe you should give Morgan some tips. That way he might get a girl to call him back after a first date.” 

Luke Alvez

It doesn’t matter if he’s ex-army or whatever. Undercover is not really Luke’s thing and even then, he is more used to infiltrating gangs than playing house. 

Basically, he would be surprised by your actions, despite being undercover together. Like, I can see his eyebrows hitting his hairline so fast, bless him. He’d look like a deer in headlights. 

“Woah, sweetheart, slow your roll-“ 

“- Luke. Shut up and kiss me. Now.” 

“I - ok.” 

Just like that, he’d take control, turning and pressing you against the nearest wall in an attempt to shield you from whoever was watching. He’d also be such a gentleman about it if you weren't already together romantically, keeping his hands on your waist and pulling away the minute he’s sure the danger has passed. 

Even then, he’d wait a minute before letting the two of you move from your position, just in case they come back. He’s your partner and he’s returning the favour for you keeping him safe, even if in an unsuspected manner.

“You good?”

“Luke. Shouldn’t I be asking you that? I was the one who planted myself on you.” 

“Potato, po-tah-to. Are they still over there?”

“No. They just left out the back.”

“Then let’s go, partner. Let’s catch this freak.” 

Penelope Garcia 

If Penelope is in the field then you know she is already hella nervous and out of her element. It doesn’t matter if there was a reason she was needed for this particular assignment, she would just take that as added pressure not to let everyone down.

Which is why I’m sure you’d feel worse about planting one on her - even if it does also help distract her from worrying for a minute.  

All I can imagine is her giving her trademark squeal of confusion and surprise, even if you gave her a hasty warning - and apology - about what you were going to do.

She’d be stunned at what was happening and probably takes a minute to realise she should probably try and kiss you back, or at least look less visibly startled about it. 

“I feel I should point out how unfair it is that this is permitted as ‘suitable workplace behaviour’ as we’re undercover, yet my flirtatious texts with Agent Morgan are not? I will be writing a strongly worded email when we get back, telling HR they can go shove their-”

“Pen? Hey, focus here. Unsub still watching us.” 

“Oh, right. Sorry! Ahem… as you were?”  

Also, you know that like a day or so later, once it’s all over, she sends you an email informing you that your new username on the BAU system is now ‘smoochykins’ and she will not change it until it becomes not-funny for her… which will probably be never. After all, Morgan has been ‘Chocolate Thunder’ for the last two years and is still going strong.  

Dr Spencer Reid

Spencer has been undercover before and is usually quite calm about it, even if it is faking a date or maintaining a story. Still, despite having to do your jobs, you’d hate to make him uncomfortable, knowing how he feels about any kind of physical contact - especially if you're not together. 

As he says, with the amount of bacteria shared by shaking hands you’d be safer kissing … guess it was time to take it literally. 

He’d be blushing like a tomato as you grab his jacket lapels and pull him close. And honestly? it’s kind of adorable. As is the way he tries to kiss you back, even if he still takes a minute to remember how to even move his body. 

I’m just picturing the Lila kiss in season one and how he eased into that and how stunned / embarrassed he seemed afterwards. He would pretty much be like that, but with a fake smile on his face as he rambled in your ear. 

“What was that?”

“I was covering our asses. We’re undercover, remember? We’re supposed to be a couple and couples kiss. Also, I’d thought you know, genius, that kissing and displays of public affection make people extremely uncomfortable.”

“No kidding… Morgan can never find out about this.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice. You got a deal, pretty boy. This is between us.” 

Masterlist

[gojosprettyprincess]

Tw- Tw dubcon, degradation, spitting in the mouth, blackmailing. Gojo calls reader a bitch and slut, Really dark content.

Mean bully Gojo that literally hates you, he hates how fucking smart and weird you are, how you act like you know every fucking thing, how you always have some shit in your mouth to say, how you speak so fucking loud, it's like you just don't know how to shut the fuck up, it just makes him so mad but thankfully he came up with a few things in mind that he can do to help you change that.

And that's how you end up being bent over on the school desk in an empty classroom while he's splitting your little cunt apart with his thick cock. "Fuck yeah that's right bitch keep that stupid little mouth shut" he lands a hard slap on your already red and bruised ass. "Always fucking talking" he grunts, pushing your head further into the table, earlier he placed his hoodie on the part of the desk where your face would be so it would muffle your moans. His cock was stretching your cunt so much, your pussy was fucking aching, tears leaking from your eyes as you cried out into the hoodie.

You felt his cock twitching inside of you as he slams his hips harder against you, his balls slamming against your clit driving you crazy. "Gonna stuff that annoying little mouth of yours watch" he hisses, feeling your cunt tighten around him like it's trying to milk his cock empty. He grips onto a fistful of your hair and forcefully pulls you onto the ground, you're now on your knees with his hand still gripping onto your hair as he forced his cock into your mouth, fucking it in so mercilessly, more tears start prickingly from your eyes as you felt his tip hitting the back of your throat, his balls slapping against your chin with each thrust. Even with your gagging and choking he still kept rutting into your mouth while looking down at you laughing, "Yeah this is what I like to fucking hear, keep choking on my dick bitch".

Each rut of his hips had his cock buried deep inside your mouth; your jaw was aching so much fucking much because of how fat his cock was. You felt so lightheaded as you tried desperately to fight for air against his thick girth, breathing through your nose while he kept slamming into you. You felt his cock twitching on your tongue, he started moving faster, loud groans escaping his lips. "F-fuck gonna cum, n you better fucking swallow all of it". Before you knew it, you felt ropes of hot cum spurting into your mouth, it was absolutely disgusting but it's not like you could do anything about it because of his tight grip on your hair to keep your head still, you looked up at him, seeing how his head falls back while he’s cumming, loud moans escaping his lips.

He thrusts his cock into your mouth a few more times before finally pulling it out, it was so so messy, strings of mixture of spit and cum connecting your lips and his cock before it finally snaps apart. "Open your mouth f'me" he demanded, you obeyed him and opened your mouth wide revealing a puddle of his cum on your tongue waiting to be swallowed. Next thing you knew, you heard a loud "puh" followed by a chunk of spit landing into your mouth, he looks down laughing at you. "Swallow it right now or we'll restart and do all this shit again", he sounded so scary and serious, and you didn't wanna risk doing anything like this again, so you did what you were told, closing your eyes, slowly swallowing whatever is in your mouth.

He chuckles, leaning down to get closer to you on your knees. He grips your jaws forcing you to look at him. "See that wasn't so difficult, was it? All ya needa do is shut your mouth and everything will be fine princess, or I'll just shut up for it instead understood?" you nodded your head in approval. "Good girl, from now on your gonna do and listen to every fucking thing i say or else" he angled your jaw to a random bookshelf in the room, seeing the red light from a camera blinking at you. You wanted to die right there what the fuck.

"Why-why are you-u doing this to me?" you stammered, fat tears start leaking from your eyes again as you start thinking about all the bad possibles that could happen if it gets leaked, What will your parents say? What will your friends think of you. What if it affects your job? You straight up start bawling your eyes out while he's just looking at your face smiling.

"Cause it's fun princess". he chuckles, attempting to wipe away your tears.

[worldclueless]

trying to gather my thoughts and put this as eloquently as possible.

if you haven't caught up, recently jenson button gave an interview in which he gave advice to lewis hamilton about his move to ferrari. unsurprisingly, this spurred some 'discourse' (shudders) about how lewis ex-teammates-turned-pundits (mostly nico and jenson Imao) tend to give weird borderline-psycho analysis about lewis even though it has been quite a significant amount of time since they were teammates and who knows if this analysis is even too applicable to lewis as he has changed A LOT since his tenure with them.

and again, unsurprisingly, this brought out a chunk of the fanbase that can never pass up the opportunity to give a dig at lewis and treat guy's like jenson and nico's words like gospel. one frankly gross post went on and on and on about how unbothered jenson was during his time as lewis's teammate (no he was not) and how much of a paranoid weirdo freak lewis was about being challenged by a teammate (never mind the fact his first teammate was fernando fucking alonso).

and this is a worrying trend i see growing amongst a faction of f1 fans who try and ignore the context of lewis and his place in the sport. lewis is a black man in a predominantly white sport. jenson nor nico, no matter how much people will place them on some babygirl pedestal, will NEVER know what that means or what this is like so whenever i hear them recount their time together as teammates, the context of this is always lost.

in 2011, lewis had split with his dad as his manager and was going through a tumultuous time with his girlfriend, nicole. i don't know about you, but if my personal relationships with the people i cared about were on rocky grounds, that would tend to affect how i interact with people at my workplace. nevermind the fact that it was also magazine gossip fodder. that type of spotlight affects you heavy. especially working in the toxic environment of early 2010s mcclaren.

nowadays, lewis, at best, is professional and cordial with both jenson and nico which is not a problem but for some reason some fans think lewis's attention and time should be spent fawning and talking about these men. they're unable to see him as somebody that is not fanfiction fodder for their white faves and it is generally disturbing the lengths they will go to to justify their lack of empathy, compassion, and consideration of his place as he tries to exist within a space that was resistant to accommodating his identity (2007 barcelona testing anyone?).

and if it wasn't bad enough, these same 'fans' have the cheek to imply that hamilton is psychologically weak for not engaging with these guys beyond a professional level. the same man who was racially abused by grown white adults since the age of 12 is psychologically weak. wow. truly stunning. and these fans always give a half-hearted "yeah of course lewis has gone through some racial trauma but-" but nothing. end of. your what fav and you have no fucking clue as to what racial trauma does to black children and how it seriously impacts them. so don't ever try to erase this impact. you're overstepping: it's not your place.

so if it wasn't clear: lewis hamilton does not owe your white fav anything. if he wants to mind his business while rolling by in his scooter, that's not a problem. you brocedes/slagclaren types that only tolerate him for his proximity to these white men are frankly, racist, and your pathetic attempts to hide behind your racism because lewis isn't as perfect as he tries to be' (yeah no shit) make it such a hostile environment for black fans who can smell your bs from a mile away.

[sleepiexx]

Can’t Lose You

Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!Reader

Note: way late to the party of writing for Ghost but y’know I had my fun

Summary: A mission goes slightly off plan, Simon doesn’t take it too well.

Warnings: he yells at u lmao, mention of injury, mention of blood, mention of stitches

Word count: 1190

Mere seconds after the rest of the team cleared out of the room to take off gear and rest for the night, leaving Ghost alone in a room with (Y/N), he snapped. The stress of the recent mission got in his head. It brewed nothing but trouble for him, anger festering until it boiled over. Namely the part where (Y/N) went into the enemy compound by herself— as she’d been ordered to do— when, unbeknownst to the team, her comms were cut leaving them with no way of telling whether she was alive or dead for a large chunk of their assignment.

It all worked out in the end but that did nothing to quell Ghost’s simmering rage.

“You’re a bloody fucking idiot.” He growled, “It’s like you don’t care about your own god damn well being. You’re completely fucking reckless, do you even realize how easily you could have been killed!”

(Y/N) was surprised at Ghost’s hostile behavior, normally they were on good terms. If he was mad at anyone, it was never her. Not to mention that the situation had in no way been her fault.

She scoffed, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and anger, “I was fine! Barely got hurt, I don’t know why you’re getting your panties in a twist over nothing.”

He knew he shouldn’t be this mad, the rational part of his brain could reason that it wasn’t even her fault. But he wasn’t thinking logically, he was thinking emotionally, and to him yelling seemed the only way to express big emotions, “It may not be this time, it may not be the next, but if you keep on like this, some day you are going to meet the consequences of your actions and it is not going to be pretty.”

By then, (Y/N) was pissed, “Jesus Christ, it’s not that serious, Ghost! This is my fucking job! I don’t see you getting onto anyone else like this. What, do you think I can’t handle myself because I’m a woman or some shit?”

“No it’s not that it’s-“ because I love you, “it’s-“

She was sick of the arguing and frankly could not stand the fact that he wouldn’t refute her claim of sexism. She never pegged him as the type, but sooner or later, most military guys showed their true colors.

“Yeah, while you try and think up some shitty excuse, I’m going to go get cleaned up.” She stood from her seat quickly, black dotted her vision.

Ghost watched from behind, confused as she stood there swaying for a moment. Quicker than he could catch her, she slammed to the ground.

He was filled with alarm as he yelled out to her, “(Y/N)!” He was at her side in a split second, turning her onto her back.

“Fuck.” He muttered. She was out cold.

Ghost didn’t even think, it was second nature to help her. He pulled her off the ground, one arm behind her back, one under her knees. With her in his arms, he sprinted to the infirmary.

“Medic! I need a medic!” He screamed as he neared the infirmary.

All heads turned towards Ghost holding (Y/N) in his arms. Any medic who wasn’t previously occupied with an injured soldier ran towards them.

“What happened?” One of them asked, putting on latex gloves.

Ghost was shaken to his very core, even stuttering out a simple response was hard. “She just- she just fell, I don’t know.”

(Y/N) was taken from his arms and moved to a cot where they removed all of her gear. Her green shirt was heavily stained with blood, just below where her bulletproof vest ended.

“Fucking hell.” Ghost whispered. His hands made their way to his head to rake through his hair but he was stopped by his mask. Instead, he ran his hands up and down his head.

He felt horrible. He spent this whole time yelling at her instead of checking if she was okay and she wasn’t. He shouldn’t have been yelling at her in the first place, he only now realized that. He wasn’t mad, he wasn’t even disappointed, he was scared.

They lifted her shirt, revealing a huge gash that was overflowing with blood. The medic who was wearing gloves pressed gauze down harshly on the wound to stop the bleeding as another medic ran to get the suture kit.

14. She ended up getting 14 stitches in her abdomen. The wound narrowly missed her internal organs; had it been a hair's width closer, she’d be in a lot worse condition than she found herself in.

Ghost was mortified, she could have died. She could have died and the last conversation they would have had would have been him yelling at her for something he wasn’t even actually mad about.

He sat at her bedside, mask rested on the table beside him. He didn’t want the mask to be the first thing she saw when she woke up; he figured that it would scare her, and he’d antagonized her enough for one day.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. His thumb rubbed over the knuckles on her limp hand. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

Simon tilted his head towards the ceiling, blinking away tears. “It’s just… I can’t lose you, (Y/N). I know- I know you are more capable than anyone else at your job. Hell, I’ve seen it, seen how good you are at what you do. But, (Y/N), I love you, and I dread the day that someone gets the upper hand on you and you get hurt and there’s nothing I can do to fix it.”

He stopped his monologue the moment he felt her hand squeeze his back. His eyes shot down to see hers blinking up at him.

“Good thing that won’t happen,” she rasped. She parted her hand from his only so that she could reach for his face. “Where’d your other face go?”

“My other face?” He snorted, holding her hand to his cheek.

“Your skull.”

“Oh.” He said, glancing towards the mask on the table. “Didn’t want to frighten you.”

“It’s gonna take a lot more than that to scare me, Lieutenant.”

Simon shook his head, half disappointed that she hadn’t seemed to have heard his confession, half relieved.

“Oh and Lt.?”

He perked up to her calling him, “Yeah?”

She sat up ever so slightly before pulling him towards her in one swift movement, pressing their lips together. He was shocked by her actions but caught on quickly, kissing back with double the amount of passion she kissed him with. Her hands found themselves interlocked behind his neck while his came to clasp around her waist.

As they parted— hands still glued to the spots on either body that they held onto with a death grip— a spit trail kept them connected.

“Gross.” (Y/N) laughed, triggering Simon to laugh as well.

She stopped laughing to stare into his eyes, the ones that gleamed with love for her. “In case you couldn’t tell,” she started, “I love you too.”

[loveharlow]

SEVEN [SEASON 2] - 002 (PART 2)

PAIRING ‧₊˚ JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚[5.9k] Trying to lay-low in Kildare doesn't go over too well and just when things were looking up, it all comes crumbling down.

WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, mentions of death, gun violence, mild animal cruelty, general angst

NOW PLAYING‧₊˚

A/N‧₊˚ if you didn't wanna report my blog from part 1, you're gonna want too after this also im posting this NOW because of the whole explicit blog situation🙄 i think we all deserve a little reward. THIS SONG IS ☺️🥹😖😫 "DID YOUUUUU TAAAAKE MY LOVVE AWAYY FROM MEEEEEE?"

˗ˏˋ series masterlist ˎˊ˗

IT TOOK ALMOST ALL NIGHT TO SAIL BACK TO KILDARE, the sun just rising once again when the six of you arrived at the edge of The Marsh at the crack of dawn. You were tired and starving, the guys and girls splitting off into two separate groups to go look for food.

You, Kie, and Sarah had found some watermelons just as the sun’s heat started to break through the Kildare clouds. You and Sarah were sitting in the grass while Kie took up the space on a metal bench, each of you munching on your respective melons, fingers stained pink.

Kiara was quick to urge Sarah to catch her up on what happened, the blonde girl spilling every detail about what happened from the moment John B and her disappeared.

“The boat tipped and I honestly thought that was it, I thought that was the end. Next thing I know, we’re waking up on a boat headed to The Bahamas…” She recounted. She told you everything, from finding the gold again at Ward’s vacation home to getting shot by Rafe, to…

“I’m sorry, you got married?” Kiara exclaimed, her eyes wide as her hand paused from where it was digging into the fruit. Sarah just had a sheepish smile on her face, chewing as she nodded.

“It’s not exactly legal, but…” She trailed off, throwing a chunk of the melon into her mouth and looking at both of you. “Yeah, we did.” She admitted, smiling and chuckling in Kie’s direction before she seemed to conjure up another thought. “And *gulp* Am I crazy, or is there something going on between you and Pope?” She spoke, mouth full of watermelon.

Kiara smiled and shrugged, avoiding eye contact with the Cameron girl. “Maybe...” She said, squinting her eyes as she looked out in front of her. “I’ve come to a couple of…realizations, recently, I guess.” She said under her breath, eyes peering at you for the shortest of moments, so swiftly that Sarah didn’t catch it and you barely did yourself.

“That’s not a no.” Sarah egged on, still eating. The three of you fell into silence for a few passing moments, the only sounds being the birds flying by and the chewing of fruit before Sarah spoke up once more, this time her questions aimed at you. “You okay? You’ve been kinda quiet.” She asked, her wide eyes peering at you.

You just shrugged, looking down at your lap as you spoke. “‘M fine. It’s all just a little surreal, y’know? Up until a couple of hours ago, I really thought you and John B were dead.” You said, building the courage to meet her eyes. “It’s honestly the biggest blessing that you guys aren’t but... a lot happened while you two were away. That’s all.” You assured her, sending her a tight-lipped smile and returning to eating.

“...It was really hard to find a a way to contact you guys. And we didn’t want to risk someone tipping off my dad or the police just yet. It’s gonna be a shit show when we get back to the island, that’s for sure.” Sarah scoffed, raking her fingers through her hair.

“...Sarah?” You piped up, the girl humming response. “It’s good to have you back.”

She smiled happily in response, her teeth showing as her cheeks reddened. “It’s good to be back.”

JOHN B DOCKED THE DRUTHERS TOO AT THE CHATEAU WITH LITTLE HESITATION, A familiar bundle of golden fur running towards him and jumping on him the second he was off the boat. 

“Woah, hey, hey…” He cooed, petting Marley softly as she pawed at his thighs and torso.

“Sorry about that,” You said, shielding your eyes from the sun. “We’ve been crashin’ here since…” You trailed off, shrugging as John B looked up at The Chateau, jutting his bottom lip out and shrugging one shoulder.

“The place looks great, actually.” He said, directing his gaze to the grass, looking side to side. “The weeds are gone and there aren’t any beer cans in the grass.” He laughed out.

“That would be courtesy of me.” JJ bowed dramatically. “Mowed the lawn and threw in a little extra service.” John B rolled his eyes playfully and walked towards the entrance of the home, the five of you following behind him. 

“Not to bring the mood down or anything but I’m not exactly looking forward to a check-in at home…” Kiara announced, walking at the very back of the group. “My parents have probably already arranged my funeral.”

“Same. I predict unpleasantries at the Heyward household after I left the truck in Charleston.” Pope cringed at the thought, holding the straps of his backpack. 

“...No one knows we’re here, right?” JJ threw out, deep in thought judging from the look on his face. “And you two-” He pointed at Kiara and Pope. “-aren’t gonna get in anymore trouble for showing up twelve hours later. Am I right or am I right?”

“You’re not wrong…” Pope seemed to contemplate.

“So that means we have twelve hours to do whatever we want.” JJ smiled, clapping his hands together. “A little pogue fellowship, how does that sound? Let the shit hit the fan tomorrow.”

“The cops are looking for us. It just seems really stupid…” Sarah reminded, a look of worry on her features.

“Sarah Cameron,” JJ approached the girl sitting on the rail of The Chateau stairs. “You’ve heard of my philosophy, right?”

“No.”

“Stupid things have good outcomes all the time.” JJ spoke as you and John B mocked him, sending a smile in each other’s direction as you tried not to laugh. The blonde boy turned around, clapping his hands. “Who’s with me? Let’s go get some beer!”

KIARA HAD MANAGED TO STEAL SOME BEERS FROM THE WRECK, SEEMINGLY WITHOUT BEING NOTICED. By the time Sarah and JB had showered and JJ and Pope set up the lights and hot-tub, the sun had fallen again. The pit in your stomach had started to settle, allowing you to actually enjoy the fact that your friends were alive and well and back where they belonged. Although other events were still swirling in your mind and dampening your mood, you wouldn’t let it show.

The six of you crowded the hot-tub, shotgunning beers as music played faintly from a speaker plugged in near the porch. JJ and John B had some impromptu dance battle while Pope started freestyling out of nowhere, the remaining three of you watching it all like a comedy show from the comfort of the hot tub.

At some point , JJ rolled a joint that made it’s way through the group in record time. You currently had the object clutched between your fingers, laying on your back in the grass near the oak tree with Marley next to you as JJ and Pope wrestled in the grass. 

“Single-leg sweep!” John B cheered, watching Pope pin JJ to the ground — JB, Sarah, and Kie sitting and watching around a bonfire. 

Pope got up triumphantly, hands in the air as JJ got up and dusted himself off. He and JJ shook hands with lazy smiles on their faces before Pope snatched up his beach towel and turned around in the direction of The Marsh. “I’m done!” He called over his shoulder. “I’m outta here…”

“You want a round two?” JJ called in his direction, cupping his hands around his mouth.

Pope chuckled and waved him off without a glance back. “Yeah, I think I’ll take my losses.” The group’s attention was stolen by Kiara who grabbed her shirt from the lawn chair she was on, getting up and following Pope. 

You just scoffed and took another hit of your joint, watching from a few feet away as Sarah’s jaw dropped while John B and JJ cheered. “Really?” Sarah exclaimed. 

“Way to be discreet!” JJ called after the two.

“I leave and this is what happens.” John B sighed in mock disappointment, slapping his hands against his knees as he rose from his seat. “Your boy’s out.” He shook the red cup in his hand. “Beer time.” He told the two blondes before walking in your direction, your splayed figure going unnoticed in the dark of night as JB reached into the cooler to grab a fresh beer, his eyes landing on the art piece the four of you had engraved into the tree.

You watched as he slowly paused, his eyes glossing over as the boy attempted to suppress his emotions. 

“You better cry.” You spoke up, speech mildly slurred from your tipsiness. “It took me two hours to carve your long ass name into that...big ass tree.” John B looked around startled for a moment before looking at down at you laid out in the grass like a snow angel. You smiled and waved lazily at your friend.

He rolled his eyes and laughed, cracking open the canned drink in his hand. “You scared the shit out of me, little weirdo.” He said, taking a small sip. “I forget you’re a lightweight. You need a water or somethin’?”

You simply pursed your lips and waved him off. “Pfft. I am fine. And I’ll have you know I am not drunk or high, just…thinking.” The Routledge boy cocked an eyebrow at you, JJ and Sarah’s mindless banter filling the silence. “I’m serious!” You chuckled out. “I’m not, I swear. I just needed some time to think for a little bit…”

“About?”

“...Are you kidding?” You asked incredulously, lifting yourself up to lean on one arm. “John B, you came back from the dead. And believe me, I am so glad that you and Sarah are back but I’m scared for you guys. Sooner or later, someone is gonna find out you guys are back on the island and when they do?…”

He simply nodded. “That's fair." He sighed. "We tried to get through to you guys for weeks before we were able to send that message.” You hummed in response before yawning. “And even though you haven’t said it yet, I missed you too.” He winked at you.

You flipped the boy off and plopped back down into the grass as the footsteps of someone else appeared.

“What’s happenin’ over here?” He asked cheerfully, slapping a hand on John B’s shoulder. He met your eyes but you looked away. You still didn’t want to talk to him. 

John B looked between the two of you skeptically before letting whatever thought he had go, pointing at the tree in front of him. “This cute little art project.” He told the blonde, referring once more to the memorial carving. “Killed the tree, though.”

JJ laughed, bowing his head down. “Probably, yeah…” He said, sniffing before looking at JB. “I fuckin’ missed you, man.” He said seriously, pulling John B into a tight hug. They buried their heads into each other’s shoulder, embracing one another as tight as possible.

“Kind of lonely over here!” Sarah called out, the two boys releasing one another as she waved the three of you over. The slapped each other on the shoulder and began walking back over to the bonfire, you getting up and whistling for Marley to do the same, the golden retriever standing up slowly and shaking herself off before following you. 

“Aww, look.” The blonde girl cooed from her place on a log, staring ahead as the three of you followed her gaze to find Kie and Pope sailing away on the HMS Pogue. 

“There he goes.” JJ cheered, sending a thumbs up to the couple on the boat. “He jacked your boat, dude.” He said to John B.

“Pope’s poking on the Pogue.” He replied with little emotion, staring out like he couldn’t believe it while Sarah wolf-whistled in their direction. Through her cheering and whistling, you thought you heard something in the distance, prompting you to turn around with a look of confusion etched across your face.

“Hold on,” You spoke up, the remaining pogues attention turning to you. “Did any of you hear that?”

“The chickens?” JJ threw out a possible solution, you shook your head.

“No, I heard something. Like a car door shutting…” You said confidently, eyes trained on the trees in front of you trying to see through them.

After a few moments of squinting, you managed to make out two figures creeping through the bushes and if you weren’t mistaken, they were both armed. “...There’s people in the woods. They have guns.” You said, a hard expression settling on your face as you quickly took hold of Marley’s collar.

“Wha- are you sure?” Sarah asked panicked, standing up from the log she was perched on and edging closer to John B.

“Yes, I’m sure.” You replied quickly. “Hide. Hide somewhere, anywhere but in the house.” You instructed, the three of them just staring blankly at one another. You looked at them stupidly, snapping your fingers to gain their attention. “Hello? Earth to Powerpuff Girls? Unless your wanna play bullet-tag with the strangers in the woods, I suggest you hide!” You whisper-shouted, guiding Marley into the chicken coop by her collar as your three friends seemed to silently decide on hiding in the large oak tree, not before John B put out the bonfire and followed JJ and Sarah who were scattering and climbing up the trunk of the tree one by one.

There was more than enough space for you to hide Marley in the coop, pushing her inside as quietly as possible as she started to whine lowly. You brought a finger to your lips, shushing the animal as you gently pet the top of her head. “It’s okay.” You assured, pushing her a little further in as the sound of leaves ruffling got closer. “Just sit and stay. Okay?” You instructed as you stood up and made a b-line for the tree, climbing up as quickly and quietly as possible, taking the hand that was offered to you and planting yourself on top of one of the thick branches.

Through the leaves and branches, you saw the two figures emerge into the lights of the backyard. 

It was no one other than Rafe and Barry.

There was no way they found out about Sarah and John B that fast.

Barry crept up the side steps to the front door, gun held in front of him as Rafe wandered through the backyard, right under your noses. He stopped in front of the freshly blown out bonfire as Barry threw open the door to The Chateau, creeping inside. 

“Where the hell are you?...” Rafe asked mainly to himself, eyes wandering from the smoking wooden planks. Just then, the sound of glass breaking came from inside the house, followed by the sound of Barry groaning in frustration just before the man in question came barrelling out of The Chateau. 

“Ain’t shit in there!” He shouted, jogging down the small staircase. 

“Nothing?” Rafe asked, his tone calm in contrast to the drug dealer’s.

“No, nothing, Rafe.” Barry spat. It seemed as if Barry’s frustration began to rub off on the Cameron boy.

“They were obviously just here based off the smoke, man.” Rafe reprimanded, voice raising slightly as he threw a hand out in the direction of the smoking pit. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…” Barry ignored him. “Great observation, Boy Scout.”

“They gotta be around here somewhere...” Rafe reminded, Barry rolling his eyes and began kicking things around in the yard as Rafe turned around, staring viciously at the length of the tree. 

“P.4.L.” Barry mocked the words carved into the wood, Rafe looking back and laughing with the man, the gun in his hand pointed directly at the carving. 

“Well, shit…” The Cameron boy chuckled breathily.

“So, your sister’s a ‘Pogue For Life’ now, huh?” Barry taunted, watching as the lazy smile on Rafe’s face dropped as he looked back at the tree. His eyes started twitching as he gnawed on the inside of his cheek, his nostrils flaring out too. You were no stranger to that look on his face — he was losing it…

“...Shit!” He hollered like a madman, the loud reverberation of his voice causing you and Sarah to flinch violently. Even Barry flinched behind the boy. Within seconds, Rafe had cocked the gun back and fired off several shots, the four of you ducking behind the branches as bullets flew. Barry, who tried to take the gun from his hand, ended up forcing the guns aim upwards, the four of you just narrowly missing being shot. 

“Rafe, chill!” Barry scolded, snatching the gun from the boy’s hands. “You gon' get our asses busted!” 

The silence that occurred after Barry’s warning was what allowed the duo to hear a faint whine coming from somewhere in the yard. Your hands clawed at the wood of the tree, your nails splintering under the force.

You prayed they would ignore it. That they would leave her alone.

But you knew that wasn’t going to happen the second Rafe rotated his whole body in the direction of the chicken coop, his face twisting as he walked towards it. Bending down in front of the small opening, he scoffed, running a hand down his face.

“Would you look at that?” He laughed, eyeing Barry before looking inside of the coop once more. The whining never stopped. “They left the damn dog.” He told him, voice raspy. He snapped his fingers and whistled, trying to get Marley to obey. “C’mere girl.” He tried, but she wouldn’t budge.

“The fuck…just leave it, man. What the hell you gon do with a dog?” Barry tried, annoyed at this point.

For what it was worth, your dog had a very good judgment of character. But you guessed that trait didn’t make Rafe too happy. It was like something in him snapped, shooting a hand out and grabbing Marley by the collar, dragging her out the pen when she wouldn’t listen.

She whined and barked, trying her best to resist his pull as her paws slid across the dirt. 

“No, no, no…” You muttered under your breath, moving to climb down the tree when a forceful hand wrapped itself around your arm, your eyes meeting JJ’s. “Let go. What are you-”

“You can’t go down there, are you crazy. He will hurt you.” JJ told you seriously, his eyebrows setting into a straight line. 

“The hell I can’t.” You spat back, trying to wiggle your arm out his grip to no avail. “If I don't go down there, he’s gonna hurt her.” You told the blonde in hushed tone. You hated how shaky and sad your voice sounded.

“We’ll get her back.” He told you, his grip tightening lightly in reassurance. “I promise you.” You shook your head at his words, swallowing harshly as your teary gaze went back to where Rafe was manhandling Marley. She wouldn’t stop crying out and it broke your heart.

“Jesus, you gon have to get a muzzle for that bitch.” Barry groaned. “And what you gon do when daddy asks where the mutt came from, huh, Country Club? ‘Cause you already know Snoozie’s gonna be looking up and down the island for her, missin’ posters ‘n shit gon be up before you make it back to Figure Eight.”

Rafe just licked his lips, positioned slightly bent down to keep a good grip on your dog. “Trust me, she knows where she is. They’re here, I know that for a fact.” He told Barry, his eyes wandering the seemingly empty yard. “You want your dog back?!” He shouted out into the empty yard space. “Looks like you're gonna have to put on your big girl pants and come and get her!”

That was the last thing you all heard before the two men were leaving, dragging a hysterical Marley behind them. Most dogs would bite when threatened. But Marley wasn’t a violent dog. That was one of the many things you loved about her. But in this moment you hated it.

BY THE TIME KIARA AND POPE HAD RETURNED WITH THE BOAT THE FOUR OF YOU NEEDED TO LEAVE, THE SUN HAD RISEN SIGNALING A NEW DAY. You were all silently petrified and hadn’t said more than five words in the last, what you guessed was, six hours or so. JJ perked up when he spotted his two friends in the small boat, slinging his backpack up on his shoulder and heading towards the two as the remaining three of you followed silently.

“Yo, don’t tie up yet!” He called out, skipping down the pier just as Pope was about to tie up the boat.

“What?” Kiara replied back, squinting her eyes from the sun.

“We’re dippin'.” The blonde told the girl, jogging towards the boat and coming to a stop in front of the two, throwing his bag into the boat.

“Wait, why?” Pope piped up.

“We gotta get the hell outta here.” John B said urgently, getting into the boat right after JJ, you helping Sarah down into the vehicle as JB held a hand out for her, the girl still limping mildly due to her injury.

“Rafe knows we’re here so we have to leave, like, now.” She panted out, sitting down in the boat as you climbed in after her, not saying a word.

“Okay, okay…” Pope spoke absentmindedly, hurrying to un-tie the portion of the rope he did secure, tossing it into the boat. “Wait, what about the dog? Where’s Marley?” Sarah, John B, and JJ all looked at each other then at you, prompting Kie and Pope to share a look before doing the same.

“...We’ll explain everything later.” John B threw out, caressing Sarah’s back. You didn’t protest or say anything, you were too angry to do anything. The pair of them glanced at you once more before getting into the boat themselves.

“We’ll sail a few miles out, find somewhere to camp out for a bit.” Pope announced, getting behind the wheel and starting the engine. "Then, you have to tell us what the hell is going on."

“LOOK, IF RAFE AND BARRY KNOW, IT’S ONLY A MATTER OF TIME BEFORE EVERYONE KNOWS.” John B started, hands on his head as he paced back in forth in the grass. The group had found an empty clearing a few miles away from The Chateau, an open field near The Marsh.

JJ scoffed, shaking his head. “I told you. We should’ve gone south, man.” He added. “Why does no one ever listen?”

The rest of you sat in the grass not talking. You were sitting criss-crossed, plucking individual strands of grass. 

“...I have an idea.” Sarah croaked, swallowing harshly as she stared down at her shoes. “With me back, my dad’s going to have to choose between me and Rafe.” You paused in your grass plucking, peering up at the girl. 

“Sarah-” John B started only to be cut off.

“He’s gonna choose me.” She said confidently, looking at John B. 

“Just please listen.” Her boyfriend pleaded, holding a hand out in her direction to let him speak. “Ward keeps lying to you, Sarah.”

“No,I…I know it sounds crazy-”

“Yeah, it does.” Kiara told her bluntly. 

“I know.” Sarah defended herself, biting her bottom lip and looking around at the five of you. “But he’s my dad. And I know him, and I know he loves me.” She pleaded with the group, rubbing her hands nervously against her thighs. “I’m just asking for two hours.” She concluded, eyes wide and begging for you all to understand.

You simply shook your head, looking out at the water in front of you. If Sarah believed that her father would choose her, who were you to disagree? You had your doubts but you kept them quiet. If you learned anything in the past month or so, it’s that you have to let people see who others really are for themselves, otherwise they'll never believe it.

Without any more objections, Sarah tucked her hair behind her ears and stood up, looking at the group of you one last time before walking off.

SARAH HAD BEEN GONE FOR NEARLY AN HOUR, THE FIVE OF YOU WANDERING OFF AWAY FROM ONE ANOTHER. Pope and John B were at the edge of water talking, Kiara was laying in the grass plucking flowers, and you were leaning on a nearby tree. 

You got the urge to look up from where you were digging the toe of your shoe into the dirt when the sunlight was no longer beaming on you, coming face to face with possibly one of the last people you wanted to talk to.

You sighed, crossing your arms. “What part of leave me alone do you not understand?”

The blonde scratched the back of his head, looking side to side before shoving his hands in the pockets of his shorts. “Look, I don’t know what I did to make you this mad at me. And even though I would really like to know and won’t stop bothering you until I find out, I promise I didn’t come over here to press you about it right now.”

“Then what are you over here for?”

“I wanted to make sure you were doing okay.” He said, eyes roaming your face as you looked away for a brief second. “You may hate my guts right now but we’re still pogues. And you know how I feel about you...” His voice lowered to a whisper as he leaned in closer. "That doesn't change just because you're pissed at me."

“I don’t hate you.” You didn’t mean to say it. You planned to let him talk to himself while you didn’t respond but something about JJ thinking you hated him really made your stomach turn. Sure, you felt betrayed and led on, but you didn’t hate him. You don't think you ever could.

It would take forces between the heavens and the earth before you would ever even come close to hating JJ.

“...And no. I’m not okay.” You said bluntly, straightening your posture. “I am angrier than I have ever been in my entire life and I can’t do shit about it, JJ.” You groaned, rubbing the back of your neck. “I don’t have any parental figure left, some psychopathic rapist who has an obsession with trying to ruin our lives just kidnapped my fucking dog, my best friend just came back from the dead and the only evidence we have to clear his name and keep him out of jail for a crime he didn’t even commit is being withheld by some batshit crazy woman who lives on a former slave plantation and has a live-in bodyguard, and you...” You ranted all in one breath, stopping yourself right before you went too far. 

JJ just nodded, rolling his lips in on themselves as he gave you a moment to collect yourself and catch your breath before speaking. “Yeah…yeah, that about covers it.” He said, the unhelpful statement causing you to roll your eyes. You don’t know if you purposefully left out the part about him and Kie or if it was a subconscious thing. You figured that would’ve been the best time, if any, to bring it up. But it also seemed like the most miniscule on your list of problems at the moment.

“Well…what about the box?”

“The what?” You said exhaustedly, squinting your eyes as he shifted his weight, allowing the sun to beam on your face. You were too blinded by the golden ray of light to notice how the blonde got distracted by you — the way the sun illuminated everything about you. It made the naturally lighter pieces of your hair more visible, it made your eyes a shade brighter, made your eyelashes more visible, and casted a heavenly glow across your skin. Deep down, he really wanted to get to the bottom of whatever he did to put you off from him this badly because the idea of having you in his life as more than a best friend was looking more appealing every second he looked at you.

Snapping himself out of it, he replied. “The, uh, the box of shit you stole from your mom’s office? That’s, like, hardcore evidence, right?” You pondered on the boy’s statement for a moment. It wasn’t like you’d forgotten about the evidence, it crossed your mind ever since John B’s text came through. But your biggest problem was Shoupe — you didn’t trust him. And you weren't sure if a couple of tapes would be any help.

“Ward has Shoupe and the entire Sheriff’s Department wrapped around his finger. If I hand over the only evidence we have and Shoupe chooses Ward over his oath as an officer, we lose everything.”

“But you don’t think it’s worth the risk if it can clear Bree?” He cocked an eyebrow, clearly questioning your judgment.

You bit your lip in contemplation, shaking your head. “...I’ll sort through everything and see what we can possibly bring to Shoupe. If things go south with JB and this whole key that Pope keeps talking about, I turn it all over to the police. Deal?”

JJ nodded his head, glancing back at his two friends at the edge of the water. “Deal.”

“In the meantime?” You threw out, pushing yourself off of the tree and adjusting yourself. “I’m gonna figure out how to get my damn dog back.” Just then, you saw the HMS Pogue coming towards the shore, Sarah perched on the edge.

The five of you stood up, approaching the edge of the water and watching as the girl let the engine die and the boat come to a halt. The guys moved forward to pull the boat up onto the sand, the girl taking the hand John B offered to assist her out of the boat.

“So, how’d it go?” He asked, hair blowing in the wind as you all crowded each other. Sarah looked to her feet, shaking her head.

“You guys were right.” She sniffled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “It didn’t work.”

Everyone nodded despondently, expecting nothing more or less but still disappointed by the outcome. Despite you and JJ’s separate conversation, the pogues weren’t completely aware of the evidence you were holding onto. You figured they'd forgotten. You didn’t want John B and Sarah to have run again, but you needed some time to get what you needed to at least attempt to clear their names without backfire.

“We still have one more opt-”

“What’s that?” Kiara interrupted you, looking petrified at the water ahead of her. You all followed her gaze, finding a fleet of boats with flashing lights sailing directly towards the six of you. 

“How’d the cops find us?” Pope added, taking a weary step back as the boats got closer. 

“They must’ve followed you here.” John B told his girlfriend. “It had to have been Ward.” He spoke rather calmly. 

“Stay on the beach with your hands in the air!” One of the officers commanded through a megaphone. But since when were any of you known to follow rules?

A shared look amongst the group had you all bolting in the opposite direction within seconds, almost tripping over one another in the process. Running on sand was a harder task than you ever imagined, the ground feeling as if it was slipping underneath your feet.

One quick glance behind you and the officers were hopping off their boats, chasing after you all. Your shoes were submerged when you had to run through a shallow bank of salt water to get to the other side of the beach, hoping the trees would hide you. 

Sarah started to slow down, the running causing a strain on her side. John B was quick to scoop her up, throwing an arm around her torso and slinging one of her own over his shoulders. Tree branches and bushes nipped at your calves but you paid no mind to it. 

You could hear the heavy footsteps and radio chatter of the officers behind you all, scattered in the woods, trying to find you all from any and every angle. Reaching the edge of a pond surrounded by weeds, you all let John B help Sarah in first before following, the water going above your knees. 

The further in you waded, the deeper it got until you all had to literally swim across the body of water, Sarah at the tail end of the group. The murky water splashed into your mouth and in your eyes but you kept going. 

The sound of splashing and yelling behind you signaled that you’d been spotted just as you reached the other side, you being the first one out of the water. With no where else to go, you all hid behind the largest tree in sight, the object able to conceal the half dozen of you.

Sirens blared in the distance, your heads snapping behind you to find two police cars flying down the dirt road.

“We’re trapped.” Pope panted, crouching behind the tree. “They got us surrounded. What do we do?”

“We’re not getting out of this.” JJ said, blonde strands soaked, his shirt sticking to his body as he rang out a bandana. “We gotta make a stand.” Pulling the infamous gun from his waistband and wiping it off. You looked at him crazy, snatching the object from his hand before he had a chance to react. Your own hair was sticking to your face, the damp feeling of your clothes making you uncomfy,

“That’s the complete opposite of solving the problem.” You told him as he absentmindedly reached for the weapon. You held it out of his reach, oblivious to John B watching the entire interaction occur.

He was grateful that he had friends willing to get into this kind of trouble for him. But his heart wouldn’t allow any of you to go down with him. Unbeknownst to you, JB had climbed down from the tree, taking hold of your wrist of the arm that held the gun.

Your eyes met his as he slowly took the weapon from your grasp, letting it fall to the ground. Your eyebrows furrowed as he looked at each and every one of you with the most detached look on his face. Smiling at you all, he spoke.

“It’s gonna be all right.” He choked out, gently letting your wrist fall. It was then that you knew — he was surrendering. He took slow, backwards steps away from you all kicking a pile of dirt and leaves over the gun to conceal it.

Just then, Shoupe arrived, wasting no time in drawing his gun in your friend’s direction. “John B! Step out into the clearing!” He hollered, officers surrounding you all from every direction and every single one of them armed. 

“I’m surrendering!” He told the man, hands in the air. 

“Aye, the rest of y’all stay right where ya are, keep your hands where I can see 'em.” Shoupe told the five of you behind JB, all of your hands going in the air slowly. 

“Hey, listen Shoupe, I wanna testify!” John B cut in, eyes red and teary. 

“It’s ‘bout time.” The man said, approaching the boy with two officers trailing behind him. All three of them pointing pistols at you all. “Get down, do not move a muscle. Everybody else, don’t move!”

Shoupe directed one of his deputies to detain John B, the man storming over as he holstered his weapon. He pat JB down quickly before snatching the boy up into a chokehold, clearly out of anger and not protocol. 

“Are you serious?!” JJ was the first to call out, voice echoing throughout the woods.

“Hey, what the fuck?!” You shouted yourself, taking one small step forward but the female officer that chased the car a month ago, Deputy Plumb, was quick to stop you, pointing her pistol right in between your eyes.

“Stay where you are!” She instructed firmly, her eyebrows setting into a fine line. 

You and your friends were forced to watch as the officer arresting John B, who Shoupe referred to as Deputy Thomas, slammed your friend onto his back into the grass and beat on him. You were all shouting and screaming but anytime you took a step, there was officer in your face with a fully loaded pistol or an assault rifle. And these people looked too trigger happy to be arresting a teenager.

Shoupe finally stepped in when Thomas had John B by the collar of his shirt. The man in charge attempted to pull his deranged officer off of your friend but he was pushed back as the man faced John B once more, nostrils flared as he held the boy mid-air.

“...This is for Peterkin.”

And with an uppercut, John B was out cold.

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.

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[oh-stars]

Lilies & Lavender

Lavender

a Stobin Month 2024 prompt | 712 words | CW: assumed cheating, lavender marriage, nosy neighbors | Rating: G

--

“Mrs. Grayfield thinks you’re cheating on me,” Robin says as she hands him another bag of soil. 

Steve snorts, swiping at his face with the back of his gloved hand to brush off the dirt he knows he feels on his face. “She always thinks someone’s cheating,” he says. He rips open the bag of soil and starts adding it to the new pots they just bought for the porch. “Remember when she made that big fuss about the Levinsons? Turns out, they had their extended family living with them for some time.”

“Yeah, but this time she has, like, actual evidence,” Robin says, grunting with the effort of moving the new lilies they’d picked up that morning. “Tell me again why we’re not putting these beautiful plants in our actual garden?” 

“Our flower beds get too much shade,” Steve says. “I want to see how they do in the pots out here first before we commit to rearranging the back flower beds.” He squints up at her. “You were the one who said the porch was missing something.” 

She shrugs. “I was more so thinking we could freshen up the upholstery on the bench.” 

Steve waves her off. “This is better.” He takes the flower from her and together they replant it in its new home, a massive flower pot that’ll take up a good chunk of space on their porch. “What evidence does she have?” 

“Evidence?” 

“You said she had evidence I was cheating?” 

“Oh!” Robin giggles. “She saw Chrissy leaving the other morning.” 

Steve laughs and shakes his head. “This is why I think Ed and Chris should just move into the place around the corner. Then we wouldn’t have to explain the cars to anyone.” 

“But then Chrissy would lose her bay window,” Robin says, “and I am not prepared to deal with her losing that window.” 

“I think you both would live.” 

“And can you imagine if Eddie has to deal with noise complaints every other day?” 

Steve groans and grabs the next plant to place beside the first lily. “You’re right, it's a horrible idea.” 

Robin’s quiet while they finish transferring the lilies to their new pots, all eight of them neatly planted in the two pots to frame their porch steps where they can get the most sun possible. “Should we get a divorce?” 

“We could, but what’s the point? It’s not legal to marry who we actually want to marry and the benefits we get from being married are too good to pass up on. And personally,” Steve says as he takes off his gloves to actually scratch at his face, “I don’t feel like dealing with the headache of splitting our assets unless we need to.” 

“Good point.” 

“Plus,” Steve smirks, “if we’re divorced, we can’t use the spouse excuse.” 

Robin beams. The spouse excuse is something all four of them use to get out of things, sure, but for Steve and Robin, they like to remind their partners of who they’re actually married to from time to time. It’s the best way to keep their sacred sleepovers – no one can argue that a husband and wife are meant to spend the night together. 

She looks at their hard work. The lily pots still need to be moved to where they’ll actually be sitting, the white flowers bright against the terracotta pots. “Do you think it clashes with the lavender?” She motions to the lavender plants lining their flower bed and the paved path that connects to their driveway. 

Steve shakes his head. “And even if it did, it’s only temporary.” 

“What time’s Eddie coming over?”

“Three. We have to leave by four to get to the concert though. You sure you two don’t want to come with?” Steve asks. 

Robin hums. “I think we’ll pass. I want some quiet one-on-one time with her before the anniversary trip, you know?” 

Steve nods, but out of the corner of his eye, he sees Mrs. Grayfield watching from her own garden. He leans over and kisses her cheek. “Sounds wonderful, dear,” he says a little louder. “My dearest wife, would you mind grabbing the hose so we can water the flowers?” 

She catches on quick, grin impossibly wider. “Anything for you, darling husband of mine.”

--

Thank you @lady-lostmind for beta reading!

Ao3 Link

[syn4k]

Tango was crouched in an obscure corner of Decked Out, crammed into as small a hole as he could find as the stone overhead creaked and groaned. With one arm over his head, he grumpily typed a message into chat:

<TangoTek> what is it with the lag

<TangoTek> my redstone keeps skipping and it's gonna start breaking stuff

<Xisuma> Were exploring the 1.20 update

<TangoTek> i had to turn everything off

<Xisuma> Loading lots of chunks

He sighed and, taking out his shield, jammed it into place above his head. If this place came down, he was probably going down with it, but he preferred to not lose all his stuff under a bunch of rubble.

The dungeon was not happy.

About two hours ago, the server had started skipping randomly, which was disorienting enough normally but definitely wasn't helped by the fact that Decked Out had started going haywire as well.

Not only was the redstone flashing on and off erratically, but the structure itself was literally warping as the dungeon contorted itself into new, agonized shapes to try and avoid the lag. Which wasn't great if you were in the middle of it, like Tango was.

A hiss sounded from above him, and Tango shot out of the little hole he'd been hiding in as the roof split in two, held up only by his shield, which itself twisted and snapped.

<TangoTek> guys this isn't good

<TangoTek> things are gettgn a bit dicwy down her e

<Xisuma> Whats happening?

<TangoTek> decked out angry

Unfortunately, he couldn't elaborate further because at that point, the entire hallway behind him collapsed and he sprinted upwards towards safety.

Cracks appeared in the walls. The floor and ceiling shook. Tango stumbled up stairs and through the winding hallways, gasping and falling over as soon as he got to the entrance to the first level. The dungeon growled warningly behind him.

"It's not my fault, okay!" he gasped, trying to get his robes realigned. "It's the- it's the other people here! They're exploring all out and lagificating the server! I have nothing to do with this!"

Decked Out growled again, and dust shook from the roof.

"Come on, buddy," Tango pleaded. "Not my fault. I haven't even left here in... a... month."

Should he be worried about that?

Nah. It was probably fine.

The dungeon's door opened minutely on its own with a shriek of stressed metal, then slammed shut again. Tango winced as the edges crumpled, and the dungeon let out another groan, softer this time. It almost sounded like it was in... pain?

Yeah, okay, he probably wasn't fine after a month down there. He was hallucinating a dungeon having emotions. Like, come on. Surely-

"OI," came a very loud and very indignant voice from the entrance. Tango looked over his shoulder to see Zedaph standing there in a hot pink hazmat suit, hands on hips. "UNNUM I HREN, YOU BEAF!"

"What?" asked Tango.

Zedaph took off his helmet and shook out his hair. "UNHAND MY FRIEND, YOU BEAST!" he repeated. The dungeon growled again, and all of the redstone went eerily silent.

"Zed, buddy," Tango tried, scooting backwards a few paces, "I don't think-"

"Don't take that tone with me," said Zedaph, helmet by his feet and hands back on his hips. His face was turned towards the ceiling, but Tango got the feeling he was addressing him as well. "You put my friend in danger. And let me tell you-" he pointed an accusing finger at the wall, Tango wanted to tell him that he should be pointing down instead but didn't "-that's not gonna fly. You hear that? I will not stand for this."

Decked Out growled again, closer and more menacingly this time, and Tango scrambled to his feet. "Zed, buddy," he said again, more urgently this time, "drop it. It's fine. I'm safe, see! Not a scratch!" He opened his arms to try and prove the point, but Zedaph just glowered at him.

"There is a gash on your arm," he said slowly. Tango looked over to see a cut on his inner arm, which had somehow pierced right through his specially reinforced robes. He drew it back in, folding his arm, but Zedaph had already stomped right up to the door.

"Did you hear that?" he said. "There is a cut. On his arm. Still bleeding. And I bet I know whose fault it is."

"Zed!" shouted Tango, running up and trying to yank him backwards. "Stop! Lay it off! Can it! You don't know what you're-"

The server skipped again, much worse this time, and in between the pauses Tango heard a loud shriek coming from below, slowly growing in pitch and intensity.

"Now look what you've done," said Tango, fear and anxiety tinting his voice a dark navy blue. "Dude. Are you an idiot?"

The floor shook, and from below a low rumbling could be heard. The door started to slowly open.

"Come on," he said to Zedaph, who was not moving. He tugged at his sleeve. "You need to go. Why aren't you listening to me?" He shook Zedaph's shoulders, but he just shrugged off the attempts.

From within the dungeon wafted out a horrible smell, horrible not because it was repulsive but horrible because of its implications. The only way Tango could put it was that it smelled like death. Death and dread and doom. He hid behind Zedaph, who calmly stood his ground.

"Yeah, yeah, alright," he said with a snort. "Try to intimidate me. You forget that my whole thing in season 6 was that I was good friends with Death himself. Oh, wait! You weren't there for that!"

The rumbling stopped, confused, and Zedaph continued as Tango continued tugging fruitlessly backwards on his sleeve.

"Listen. I know the lag sucks and all that but that's not an excuse to put my lad Tango here in danger," said Zed, sounding quite confident for someone who was literally facing down a questionably sentient and definitely not friendly megastructure. "We've met before. You know me. You also know him. And you should know by now because I've said it like, five times that if you did anything to put him in harm's way besides like, regular ravager stuff that he does anyways because he's an idiot, I'd get him out of there because he deserves better and you lost your right to keep him for the day. Right?"

The dungeon was silent.

"Right?"

Tango's comm beeped, as did Zedaph's, and he checked it and sighed. "One moment, please," he said to the dungeon, who creaked in response.

<impulseSV> forgot to check comms, everything good over there?

<Zedaph> yep! just negotiating with a sentient and probably evil dungeon

<impulseSV> what?

<Zedaph> Decked Out

<Zedaph> it's haunted

<impulseSV> What?

<GeminiTay> Decked Out's haunted???????

<Zedaph> Decked Out's haunted

He shoved his comm back into his pocket and turned his attention back towards the door. "As I was saying, we have an agreement, do we not?"

The dungeon continued to be silent, but Tango could sense deeply annoyed confirmation in the tone of it.

"We do," said Zedaph. "And because of that agreement, you have to uphold your end. I get to do tests for Tango once a month and you get to kill me or whatever, and in return you let him go once a month. If I take him outside of that one day per month, I get killed in a freak ravager accident-"

"What?" whispered Tango.

"-and if he gets hurt and it's your fault, you have to let him go for a day," said Zedaph. "So yeah. It's 2pm. We will be back at this time tomorrow. Hand him over, please."

Tango fully expected a Ravager or a Warden to come barrelling out of the door and gore the both of them to death. He was already preparing his speech to Zedaph about how you did not just talk to the dungeon that way and how it would absolutely remember it next time when the doors behind them reluctantly opened of their own volition, letting the sunlight stream freely in. Tango just blinked at it.

"Thank you," said Zedaph behind him, dragging Tango alongside him as he stomped towards the exit. Tango just stared behind him, mouth agape, and as the door clanged shut he flinched.

"How did you?" he asked, mouth still wide open. "You just- you can't just- huh? Zed, buddy, that was the stupidest- you could have- what?"

Zedaph just raised an eyebrow as he looked at him. "Because I'm your friend," he said. "And that's just a big stupid building."

The "big stupid building" groaned warningly behind him.

"Sorry!" Zedaph shouted at it. He turned back to Tango, still not letting go of his arm. "Anyways, I think you need therapy. Come to think of it, the dungeon also needs therapy."

Head still spinning, Tango tried his best to make sense of the past fifteen minutes. "Dungeon... therapy?"

"Yep," said Zed, letting him go and starting down the stairs. "Difficult, but I'm 99% sure it can be done." He paused. "Make that 98%. I haven't talked to Cleo about it yet. Are you coming with me or not?"

"You," Tango said, jogging a little to catch up with him as he bit into a carrot, "are insane."

"Way less than you are, my friend," said Zedaph. He wrinkled his nose. "Aw, dang. Forgot my helmet. That's not surviving another 5 minutes. Oh well. I have spares at home."

"Definitely not," agreed Tango. "So... what are we going to do?"

"Not sure," said Zed thoughtfully.

"We could go back in-" Tango started hopefully.

"Oh, no," said Zedaph. "You are not going anywhere near there in the next twenty four hours, mister. Oh!" He snapped his fingers. "I got it. We can go peoplewatching! I heard Mumbo's working on his farms. Maybe we could mess with him."

"Sounds like a plan," said Tango.

And the two walked off, the dungeon glowering behind them.

[eggyrocks]

rot: h. iwaizumi

chapter six -> a promise

(masterlist ; written content)

word count: 2.7k

now playing: my hot piss by die spitz

Autumn cools everything down. The feverish sort of pain that made her almost delirious has chilled into a dull, steady ache. Kiyoko rests her head on her shoulder. They sit on the couch together, under a shared blanket, and watch old, cheesy horror movies. Every on-screen death makes Kiyoko flinch and hide her face under the blanket.

It’s odd, to be in her apartment, to have it be her own as well. Where the fridge is free of remnants of rotten food and is properly stocked with essentials. Where the furniture matches and there’s no stuffing spilling out of the cushioning. It’s small, and sometimes she has to fiddle with the pipes under the sink to avoid calling a plumber, but it’s nice. It’s well-kept and Kiyoko always has some kind of candle lit. The walls are white, just white, not stained yellow from years of cigarette smoking. The locks don’t look like they’re about to fall off the door. There’s no mold in the bathroom. No pest infestations. No decay in the hardwood floor.

It makes her feel so out of place.

“My parents helped with the deposit,” Kiyoko had explained to her, almost sheepishly, like this was something she should be ashamed of. “And with the first few months of rent while I built up some savings. It’s how I was able to get it.”

Her brother would’ve liked Kiyoko, she thinks. He would’ve liked her quiet demeanor, and the deliberate sort of way she carries herself. He would’ve liked how spending time with her is never overwhelming. He would’ve liked how her voice is like a small stream that runs down the street after a rainstorm.

They would’ve gotten along.

She has the thought that he would’ve hated Iwaizumi, and then tries to pretend that she didn’t.

Onscreen, a head is removed from a set of shoulders. She tries not to think of Iwaizumi. It makes her sick, even his name. Never once has she felt like she did the right thing. Kiyoko keeps telling her that sometimes, the right things hurt the most. But that doesn’t help. It doesn’t quell the nausea she feels at his memory. It doesn’t fade that dull, aching loneliness. It doesn’t make her feel better about leaving him.

Objectively, her life as improved post-Iwaizumi. She’s held onto the same job for several months in a row without incident (no spitting, cursing, or fighting-though that’s mostly due to Kiyoko). She actually has money in her bank account now, ¥50,901.96, after rent (which, isn’t a lot by any metric, but it’s definitely more than nothing). Her father stopped calling. Her diet is much more balanced. The cable’s better. She doesn’t really get mad anymore.

It's an improvement. A drastic one. Something she probably wouldn’t have been able to achieve on her own.

But it’s worse. It just feels worse.

Blood spews from a headless body, cartoonishly fake. Kiyoko squirms, and she doesn’t flinch.

★⋆. ࿐࿔

The bell on the door to the sports shop dings as the it closes, and a customer leaves with fresh tennis balls. She rests her cheek on the palm of her hand as she leans up against the counter. She’s drawing the earth as it explodes from the inside, splitting into dozens of chunks of land and ocean. “Who the fuck buys tennis balls in November?”

Kiyoko slides behind the counter to stand beside her, peering over her shoulder to watch her draw. “I dunno. Maybe he’s going somewhere warm,” she offers as a solution.

Kiyoko doesn’t hate people the way she does. She can’t ever hate someone just because she wants to; Kiyoko doesn’t ever want to. It makes her feel mean, since the feeling of hatred comes to her so naturally. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Noya thinks you’re cute,” Kiyoko says, suddenly stiffer when she talks. “He asked if you were going to go out with us tomorrow night.”

She doesn’t know who Noya is. She probably should. He’s probably someone that she’s met more than once. But she can’t conjure up the face that’s supposed to go with the name. “Which one’s he?” she asks, well past the point of caring if she seems rude to Kiyoko.

Kiyoko knows she’s rude, at this point.

“The short one,” she answers. “The one with the blond in his hair.”

Her pen digs into the notebook paper, adding shading around a blown-up chunk of earth. “Yeah, he’s cute, I guess.”

Kiyoko makes a noise of acknowledgement. “But you’re not into him.”

It’s not a question, so she doesn’t answer it. Kiyoko sighs, and rocks on her heel. “That’s fair. As long as it’s because you’re actually not into him, and not because you’re not over Iwaizumi.”

Hearing his name spoken so casually makes her flinch. Kiyoko notices and leans her head down on her shoulder. “Well, we’ll get there.”

★⋆. ࿐࿔

At her lowest point, she calls her father.

She dials his number so many times she loses track of it. She stares at the numbers for so long they start to lose meaning. When she closes her eyes, she sees them burned into the inside of her eyelids. She hits ‘call,’ and then hangs up, only to dial him right back up again.

She doesn’t know what she’s doing, and definitely not why. She just sort of acts, moved by impulse and a craving for something unknown.

It rings. It rings three times before he answers. His phone is gruff and worn on the other line. “Hello?”

Her hand slaps over her mouth, and she tries to quiet her breathing, like she’s hiding from him. Her eyes prick and burn. “Hello?” he repeats on the other end, more impatient this time. Her heart pounds like he’s just on the other side of the door. She doesn’t know what she’s doing.

“Fucking hell,” is the last thing she hears before the line goes dead. The phone clatters to the floor of her bedroom, and she cries. The first time she’s cried like this in months.

She really doesn’t know what she’s doing.

★⋆. ࿐࿔

Most of her time is spent lying in her bed, doing nothing, thinking about everything. Sometimes she goes along with Kiyoko when she goes out with her friends, and she sits in the corner and tries not to draw too much attention to herself. She hates that. Sometimes she tries to pick up extra shifts at work just to pass the time. She hates that too. Sometimes she goes to this cheap dive bar just two blocks away from her new apartment, just to have a drink or two in a place that’s not her bedroom.

She orders a second drink. It’s bone-chilling cold outside, and the alcohol makes her feel warmer. Just a bit. She thinks it’s sad that this is the most exciting part of her week.

At least the festering rot that tore her up from the inside was interesting. Now her life is boring and depressing.

The call of her name is sudden and jarring. She spins around in the barstool with an elevated heartrate and her fingers reaching for her keys. She doesn’t recognize him, at first. When her eyes first land on him, she continues looking for a second, before it catches up to her. Her heart leaps up to her throat. “Matsukawa?”

Matsukawa chugs, his head tilted back and his Adam’s apple bobbing, downing the pint until there’s nothing left but traces of white foam. Her fingers tap against her own glass, looking at the condensation that leaves a ring around the wooden bar. It reminds her of the plastic cups of coffee Iwa brought her daily. She didn’t drink coffee before that. Now every morning she finds herself crawling out of bed at eight in the goddamn morning, throwing on whatever clothes are on her floor so she can get to the closest coffee shop before it gets too busy.

“Is he over me yet?” she asks, tips of her fingers collecting droplets of condensation.

Matsukawa slams his glass down on the bar. “Nah.” He wipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “Not even a little. Iwa’ll never get over you.”

Her eyes roll. Matsukawa sees this and narrows his own. “Don’t think I don’t mean it.”

There’s an awkwardness that hangs between them. She takes a sip of her own drink and swishes it over her tongue, trying to distract from it. “He’s got a long time to.”

“Doesn’t matter. I know him. You were it.”

“Then he shouldn’t have left me.”

She says this, she realizes, with familiarity, the kind that no longer exists between her and Matsukawa. She hasn’t seen him since her father’s blood was on her hands. Any closes between them granted by the lifesaving has since evaporated, and now, they’re as good as strangers. At least to her.

Still, Matsukawa leans back in the bar stool. “Yeah, he probably shouldn’t have.”

She shifts in her seat uncomfortably. It would’ve been better if he argued. “Yeah,” is all she can manage, her fire dulled.

“You don’t look like you’re doing that much better than he is,” Matsukawa remarks, and she offers no reaction. It’s not like he’s wrong. “You two are both idiots. You’re perfect for each other.”

Her lip furls up. “You got a lot of fucking opinions on this.”

“Hard not to. Iwa’s heartbreak is everyone’s problem.”

Iwa’s heartbreak. She doesn’t like the implication of it. Like it’s just his. Like it’s nothing something he caused for her. Like it’s not something they share.

“C’mon,” Matsukawa says, hand clapping on her back, like he can see the thoughts brewing in her head, and he wants to cut her off before they can work their way over to him, “let me walk you home.”

He does. He walks her home and he talks about his recovery post-stabbing and he rants about Oikawa and he talks about this girl he’s been talking to that he’s not really that into and he talks about how good Makki’s been looking lately but he doesn’t ask about her and he doesn’t bring up Iwaizumi again.

At least that she’s grateful for.

And when he deposits her at her front door, he grins, and tells her that he’ll see her later.

★⋆. ࿐࿔

It’s snowing. She stands outside of his apartment, box in her hands and something caught in her throat. It’s been a few weeks since she’s seen Matsukawa, and she’s done little but think about him and what he said and fixate on it and let it gnaw away at her.

So she’s outside Iwaizumi’s apartment, snow getting stuck in her hair and fingers going numb.

Her list of problems doesn’t really exist anymore. They’re not as material, harder to pin down. Her anger issues have simmered down into this lethargic mood that has much less daily wear and tear. The split rent and the consistent income have dissipated the money problems. She doesn’t worry about things the way she used to. Things don’t really plague her the way they used to.

It’s really just him. It’s really just Iwaizumi.

She sighs. It was easier in her head. Everything’s always easier in her head.

Now that she’s here, all she can think about is everything that can go wrong. Matsukawa being wrong, and Iwaizumi being over her, so much so that he’s not even moved at the sight of her and there’s already someone else in there warming up her side of the bed. He could be working. He could hate her. It could go as badly as it did last time.

Kiyoko disapproved of the plan. Kiyoko wanted her to move on. She wanted her to find a life outside of Iwaizumi, purpose outside of him, drive outside of him.

But people like Kiyoko don’t get it. People like Kiyoko don’t know what it’s like to be infected with something so consuming and persistent and chronic. Kiyoko doesn’t get it. Iwaizumi gets it.

He gets it.

She inhales slowly, and forces herself to move forward.

Breaking into the front door of her old apartment building is something she’s done more times than she’s proud of. It’s oddly nostalgic to pop that old lock open, and it feels the same as she creeps up the stairs. It was like this when she first moved in. Bitter, winter air floating up the stairs like all the windows were left open. She remembers shaking as she hauled up trash bags of her belongings, and taking breaks to wrap herself up in the first blanket she could unpack.

She feels that way now as she stomps up the stairs, the bottom of her boots heavy against the wood. She wonders if he can hear her coming.

By the time she reaches the top of the stairs, her hands are trembling, and she’s slightly out of breath. She takes a moment to catch it before she’s shifting the box to hold in one hand, and she knocks. She does it before she has the chance to talk herself out of it.

The door swings open sooner than she thought it would, like Iwaizumi was just standing there on the other side, waiting for her. Waiting for her this whole time.

When she sees him, she holds her breath. She holds her breath as she counts the one, two three, four bruises and the one, two, three cuts that decorate his features. He’s paler than he was before. The bags under his eyes are darker.

Still, he looks pretty. She always thinks he looks pretty.

His reaction to her, standing at his doorstep after six months, is the same as his reaction to everything else. His brow slightly furrowed, mouth curled up in something that looks like annoyance. She’s not surprised when he doesn’t say anything.

“Um, hey,” is how she starts out. It makes her flinch. “I’m sorry to just like, pop up out of nowhere but, I just kinda wanted to see you. I, erm, I missed you. A lot.”

Iwaizumi says nothing to this either. She feels oddly like she is shooting herself in the foot, and she loses the ability to look him in the eye.

“I feel really bad about how everything went down,” she confesses, now staring at her shoes. He’s still looking at her, she can feel it. “I’ m not proud of the things I said or how I acted. I don’t-I don’t hate you, not at all.”

She thinks she can see his chest rise and fall with heavy, deliberate breaths. But she’s not sure. Could be imagining it. The corners of her vision are starting to blur. She holds the box up to him.

A CD player. Brand new. The same one he got her.

“I got you this. As a sorry. I felt like shit for breaking the one you got me. I feel like shit for a lot of it, but that gift meant a lot to me. Just like you do. And I break things a lot and I have a lot of issues and I don’t think you-“

She does not get to finish her sentence. Iwaizumi grabs her by the arm and pulls her into her chest. The force knocks the box out of her hands, and CD player slams to the ground between them. Before she can realize what’s happened, her feet are hovering above the floor, and Iwaizumi’s arms are tight around her.

It’s automatic, the way she returns the embrace. Her arms snake around his middle, and she leans her head against his chest. She started crying at one point, without realizing it.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Iwaizumi says, pressing his face into the top of her head, lips kissing her hair between words. “You have no fucking idea how sorry I am.”

She does, because she feels it. It gnaws away at her chest the same way it does to his. She shakes her head. “I get it,” she tells him. “I know it.”

“Please say,” Iwaizumi pleads. “Please. I would do anything for you to stay.”

If she were someone like Kiyoko, she would say no. She would leave. She wouldn’t have ever come back. Because she knows, she knows that Iwaizumi is not going to change. He’s not going to become someone different overnight, or over six months, or a year or a dozen. Iwaizumi is always going to be who he was the day that she met him.

People like your father only care about one thing. And it’s not you, and it’s not me.

She holds onto him tighter, and thinks that that’s okay. She is too. “I’ll stay,” she promises. “I’m not going anywhere.”

an: ok let’s try this again

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[itsabouttimex2]

Saccharine Snacks

Platonic Yandere Sun Wukong Drabble

Something feels different about today. Not necessarily wrong… just a little off. Just a few seconds after you wake up, the feeling sinks in. Nothing is inherently off-putting or uncomfortable, but that gnawing pang persists. The air feels strangely thick, like it’s trying to restrict your movement. The brightness of the sun that streams in from the window feels almost artificial.

But nothing is different. Everywhere you look, and everywhere you check… it’s all the exact same as it’s always been. It almost feels like a challenge, your brain racing to find the reason for this feeling, searching for the smallest difference, some minute variation in your room that would justify the strange feeling plaguing you. Predictably, you turn up nothing.

There’s no new additions, nothing taken away without your notice.

Maybe you really are just being paranoid. Maybe the air is just off. Maybe it was something as simple as a bad dream throwing you off. Whatever it it, you can’t quite shake the feeling. Not even as you get dressed, grab your staff, and head out to meet your mentor to get started with your training.

As always, he greets you with a cheeky smile, waving you into the kitchen.

“It’s not often that I see you in here,” you very casually point out. Once, it had been a little strange to speak so openly to someone so revered and powerful. But it had been by his own request that you spoke to him as an equal and friend rather than a mentor. There was no need to be so serious, after all.

“Except when we’re training. Then you really do need to take me seriously, bud,” he had told you. “Cause what I’m teaching can be just a smidge… dangerous, you know? Don’t worry, don’t worry! Nothing that’ll kill a little mortal like you, I swear!”

Even his reassurances can be goofy and heartening, with the way he acts. Just another thing you’d gotten used to. He gestures for you to come into the kitchen, waving you to the chair across from him.

“Well, I wanted to try and make something special today! I was in a kinda… ‘cooking mood’, y’know?” He looks up at you, holding a knife awkwardly as he unevenly slices cores cherries into disks.

“That doesn’t look like cooking to me,” you lightheartedly point out. “And your knifework could use some practice.”

“Yeah? So could your staff-work,” he teases back, dumping the segmented cherries into a large bowl. He grabs a handful of strawberries and moves them to his cutting board, raising an eyebrow as he looks at you, only half-focused on his task. “And what would you call it, huh? Baking? Broiling? Grilling? C’mon, bud-“

“Preparing,” you somewhat smugly interrupt. “I’d call it preparing a salad.”

He chuckles at your semi-confident tone before sliding you a cutting board and knife.

“If you’ve got time to sass me, then you’ve got time to help me, bud. Take two of those peaches from the sack over there and slice ‘em up.”

The fruit is soft and plump, fitting snugly in the palm of your hand. With two in tow, you return to the cutting board and slice them lengthways, splitting them in half and prying out the pits.

“Those are good peaches,” he explains unprompted. “Took me a while to get ‘em, actually. So I wanted to share with you.”

Sun Wukong is a good friend. He likes to dote on you when he gets the chance, and always works his hardest to keep you in good mood. He’s taught you a lot about martial arts, and never seems to get impatient with your progress, even when you find it nearly impossible to keep up with him.

Sun Wukong is a good friend.

So you trust him without hesitation when he snatches up a chunk of peach and lifts it to your lips- he shares his food with you all the time. This is nothing new for either of you.

The peach is soft all the way through, fuzzy pink skin unblemished by marks or spots. The white flesh is perfectly saccharine.

“It’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted,” you say with a smile.

Your friend doesn’t answer. He’s too busy smiling. It’ll take you a while to figure out why, but there’s no need to worry.

You’ve got all the time in the world, now.

[bananafire11]

Oh, Tents

A sequel to my previous one-shot, Squirrels, Squirrels, and More Squirrels Summary: Reader's having tent problems and ends up sharing Daryl's tent. TW: none!

Today was really not your day. Of course, living in a zombie apocalypse wasn’t really ideal all things considered, and while things were scary and new to you, but you'd held your chin high and tried to deal with it. Keep going forward, and stay alive.

Today, though, was a mess. First, you’d woken up with a splitting headache, then you’d slipped right into the chilly creek nearby, and had to withstand the embarrassment of Carol getting both you and your clothes dry. The icing on the cake to finish the day was you tripping over a stone and falling onto your tent, collapsing upon it and ripping a ginormous gap in the fabric. So yeah, your day was going great.

________________________________________ You put off what to do about your predicament until after dinner. The least you could do was cook alongside Carol, who unknowingly calms your nerves enough to keep you from exploding half the time. Her easy-going mood mingled with your jumbled nerves, smothering the fire in your mind to ashes. Your cooking didn’t turn out to be a complete disaster, at least. After all, the amount of dead squirrels hadn’t exactly decreased. Daryl still left them for you and you used the meat to cook up something good for the group. It was routine now. The arrangement didn’t particularly mean you saw him much. He was mostly glued to his older brother's side or off on a few-days long hunt. It was pretty obvious he didn’t care much for human interaction, only smarting off to those who approached him or avoiding the spotlight of topics. This left a lot to be desired, which frustrated you to no end. You glanced up from your spot on your selected log around the smoldering fire pit and scanned the surrounding faces, finding yourself subconsciously looking for a certain head of ashy-blond hair and blue eyes. You knew a good chunk of the campers had gone on the supply run into Atlanta, but he hadn’t been one of them. It didn’t surprise you that he hadn't shown up for dinner though. You’d saved a bowl of food for him regardless. After you finished your helping, you slipped off into the darkness with his bowl and away from any onlookers wondering where you were headed. Daryl’s tent was set up farthest from the fire, shrouded by darkness and instead illuminated by moonlight. Merle’s tent was a few feet away, thankfully vacant. Your converses crunched through the fallen leaves and you knew if Daryl was in his tent, he’d definitely heard you by now. You paused in front of the entrance, staring at the glimmering zipper. The meat in your stomach seemed to come alive again with nerves, throat closing up. You gulped, breathing in once and then twice before calling out, “hey, uh. Daryl?” You listened over the faint sound of the group at the firepit laughing about some unheard joke and the everlong blaring of insects and critters in the surrounding trees. Sure enough, the light rustling of fabric could be heard inside and the zipper pulled toward the sky, revealing the mussed profile of the hunter. His hair stuck to one side of his face, flattened against his cheek. He’d most definitely been asleep and you’d woken him up. You pushed the thought that the image was cute because, what the fuck, this was Daryl Dixon, and glanced down at the steaming bowl in your hands. “I, uh. Well, I brought you your dinner, but I see you’re..busy sleeping so…,” you shuffled a step away before he blinked at you and held a hand up as if to tell you to stop, so you did. “Gimme,” he grumbled. You stared at him before processing what he’d said and quickly came closer, handing the bowl off to him, fingers brushing his in a fleeting moment. Daryl shuffled back on his knees and you scrambled for words. “Wait–” you choked out, watching as he paused and peered up at you from underneath his lashes. Here goes nothing, “my tent, well, it’s got a big hole in it and I don’t have anywhere else to go.” His eyebrows furrowed, but you pushed the idea that that was just his thinking face to the front of your mind and watched him chew his lip. “Can’ crash wit’ anyone else?” came the low mutter and you weren’t sure if your heart did a flip for his sweet morning voice or the possibility of rejection. You swallowed, chewing the interior of your cheek, “I don’t think anyone else has room,” you glanced back at the fire where most of the residents had gone to their respective shelters. “Otherwise I’d ask.” Daryl huffed, “Alrigh’, c’mon, ‘fore I change mah mind,” and he retreated back into his lair, food still in hand. Your mind raced because, underneath all your hoping you really hadn’t believed he’d cave and let you in.

You crawled in beside him, the space just big enough for the both of you. The smell, which you’d describe as deep forest and woodland, was all entirely Daryl. The man sat back against the sheets, legs crossed underneath him as he set the bowl down onto his lap. You scooched over to sit beside him with a good foot separating you two. You sat there as he downed the food you’d made and took in the off white walls and the dark covers you both sat upon, cushioning you surprisingly well. Your eyes roamed over to the prone weapon that was his crossbow set in a pile of bolts in the corner.

The scraping of the metal fork hitting the bottom of the empty bowl brought you out of your head and you looked over at the man, watching him wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. He hummed, and your chest filled with warmth that he must have enjoyed your cooking.

He leaned forward and set the bowl down beside his crossbow, the utensil clinking against the rim. Daryl shifted back, lifting his hips to pull the covers out from underneath him and you fumbled to do the same. Fuck, could you stop being so damn jittery.

He lay back and you did the same, the two of you staring up at the tent ceiling, gazing at the shadows of the trees overhead, casting you both in a soft light. You glanced over at the man beside you to find his eyes drooping, and you raced out a, “thank you,” before they shut completely. He turned his head toward you, cheek pressing against the old, cigarette-burned pillow in a way you found endearing.

You held eye contact with him for a long few seconds, taking in the smokey blue of his eyes. He grunted, “yer welcome.”

You allowed a small smile to cross your features and his eyes flickered down to your lips for a brief moment before he looked back up at you, eyelids looking oh so heavy again. You pulled your gaze away and turned onto your side, facing him. You pulled your limbs in, knee nudging his hip for a moment.

You stole small glimpses of his face as he drifted off, one hand over his belly and breath evening out into deeper inhales and exhales.

Maybe today wasn’t so bad after all.

[wrestlingwithlife]

Where The Wild Things Are

Most people preferred buying a horse at a nearby stable, or even stealing one that was already owned; However, you are not most people.

Arthur Morgan x Male!Reader

————————————————————————

Two chunks of wood fell to the side as the brutal swing of an axe split them apart. The axe wielder let out a puff of air, sitting his axe down to wring out his sore arms.

His usual heavy brown coat had been discarded on the second day of their stay in Horseshoe Overlook, leaving him in his slightly unbuttoned blue button up. His sleeves rolled up to sit just below his elbows.

Arthur raised his hand up to tip his hat down a bit, blocking out the harsh sun.

“Arthur! Arthur, come here a minute would you?”

Said male looked to his right, seeing  Hosea waving him over from a nearby table. Arthur gladly dropped his axe and made his way over to the older male.

“What can a do for ya, old man?”

Hosea scoffed a bit at the nickname, pushing his cup of coffee further into the table before turning his body to fully face Arthur.

“I need you to do me a favor. You know how Y/n has been itching to go find himself a horse?”

Arthur perked up a bit at the name. Y/n had lost his last horse Colter around the same time Arthur had lost Boadicea, Arthur knew that the male had taken it just as hard, if not harder.

“Yeah I know. Might take him a minute though, you know how he can be with his pickings, gotta be wild enough for him.” Arthur chuckled a bit a the last part.

There was not a single horse Y/n had ever ridden or been around that did not love him. Even The Count seemed to trail him around camp like a little lost foal. Despite all that Y/n liked his horses wild, he liked them rough. Not a single horse Y/n ever rode could be ridden by anyone else, despite the many attempts that were made.

“Well he went out this morning on one of the cart horses. Didn’t even have a saddle or reins on it, just a rope. I figure he’s going to go bareback until he finds something he likes.” The silver haired male informed him, taking a sip of his coffee.

“What’s that got to do with me?”

Hosea rolled his eyes. “Don’t play dumb with me, Arthur. I can tell you two are sweet on each other. Besides, you know how I feel about him trying to break wild horses when he’s out on his own.”

Arthur’s ears burned a bit at being called out. He had thought him and Y/n had done a good job at keeping it on the low, but then again Hosea was an observer.

Hosea picked up the paper on the table he’d been reading, using it to swat Arthur away. “Now go on, he should be easy to find. Doubt he’s gone to far yet.”

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

Arthur rode along the trail that Y/n’s tracks had led to, eyes peeled as he watched for the male. Y/n’s tracks suddenly veered off the trail and Arthur followed them. It wasn’t long before the man found the cart horse grazing under a tree. The massive beast lifted his head, completely unbothered by his presence. The horse let out a whinny of greeting before ducking his head back down to continue eating.

Arthur slid down his own horses, patting her on the back as he looked around. The peace of the moment was suddenly broken by loud and wild laughter, Arthur recognized it immediately.

There was a sudden crashing sound in the bushes beside him and Arthur hardly had the chance to move before a massive mustang came charging from the bush, Y/n clinging onto his back with ease.

Arthur cursed at the sudden shock, dodging the wild horse again. “Jesus, Y/n!” Arthur shouted, moving a hand to adjust his hat.

There was a wild look in the horse’s eyes, but Y/n’s were even wilder. Arthur had never seen him smile so widely.

Arthur swore this went on for another thirty minutes before the horse seemed to accept the fact that Y/n wasn’t going anywhere. Y/n patted the horse on the neck, and Arthur had to admit, the mustang was gorgeous.

Y/n slid from the bay mustangs back, smiling at Arthur. “Ain’t he something?”

Arthur hummed. “He sure is.” Arthur’s eyes glinted from the stallion to Y/n. “Reminds of you already.”

Y/n rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help the smile that played on his lips. The h/c haired male stroked the horse’s forehead.

“What are you going to call him?” Arthur questioned, coming up behind the other male. Y/n hummed in thought, eyes trailing down the mustang’s striped legs.

“I think I’ll call him Ferus.”

“Mmm, what’s it mean?” Arthur’s thick arm found its way around Y/n’s waist. Arthur went to stroke the horse’s nose, but he pulled his hand back when the stallion pinned his ears at him.

“It means ‘wild’.”

Arthur snorted. “How fitting.”

Y/n tossed his head back with a laugh. He slipped from Arthur’s hold and moved to Ferus’s side. “Come on, I need to get a saddle on this guy.”

Before Y/n could swing himself back up Arthur reached out, grabbing his belt loop and tugging him back. Arthur twisted Y/n in his hold, crashing their lips together.

Y/n’s noise of surprise was muffled by the kiss, Arthur’s hands squeezed his hips. Arthur broke the kiss, letting go of Y/n’s waist and making his way back to his mare. “Yeah, let’s head back.”

Y/n swallowed thickly, a hand on his horse to steady himself. Arthur pulled himself up easily, giving Y/n a teasing smile. “You coming?”

The h/c haired male’s trance was broken and he scrambled onto his mount, chasing after Arthur.

————————————————————————

Not really happy with this one but oh well ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Author-Chan out ✌️

[werewolf-cuddles]

So yeah, as it turns out, trying to avoid making one ending canon over the other doesn't work all the time.

It worked reasonably well in the second game and Wavelengths because Max and Chloe were not directly involved in the story, so that final choice was the only thing they needed to account for.

It doesn't quite work as neatly when you bring Max back and make her the main character again. If you're treating both endings as canon, then you need to explain what happened to Chloe in the event that players chose to save her over Arcadia Bay.

And quite understandably, having them split up during the timeskip has not gone over well with a good chunk of the fanbase. Whether it makes sense for them to drift apart or not isn't relevant, breaking up a couple offscreen is inevitably going to make fans of that couple feel shitty.

No matter what, it's impossible to have Double Exposure respect both endings equally, because having Chloe and Max break up offscreen inherently disrespects everything they had to go through to be together in the first place.

This may or may not end up being an unpopular take, but in my opinion, Double Exposure should have only taken place in the Sacrifice Chloe timeline. It makes sense for the Max of that timeline to end up where she does in DE, not so much for the Max of the Sacrifice Arcadia Bay timeline.

Also, because people are being rubbed the wrong way by the "We were high school sweethearts" line, I should point out that it is very unlikely that she will say those words verbatim. The reveal stream did not show us what she actually says if you pick that option, and the actual dialogue always differs from the choices.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 13 - Supernatural

@wolfstarmicrofic July 13, word count 990

The Marauders had been called to yet another haunted mansion. The owner had begged for the gang to come and help remove the spectre from the building. 

James drove the rickety old van, Lily sat beside him, her red hair catching the summer sun as it shone through the windscreen. Peter sat in the back pouring over the books he’d collected on ghost-hunting and Remus and Padfoot sat at the very back of the van sharing a box of their favourite snacks. 

Padfoot stuck his nose into the empty box and snuffled around it just in case they’d missed a crumb. Remus patted the top of his head. 

“Good, boy. Are we nearly there?” He called to James in front. “Pads and I are out of snacks,” 

“I don’t know how you two don’t explode with the amount of food you eat,” Lily scoffed at them. Remus shrugged, he’d been asked this so many times over the years, and he still didn’t have an answer. Padfoot just woofed happily at her and wagged his tail, hitting Remus in the mouth and leaving him with multiple dog hairs on his tongue. 

They pulled up outside the castle and the Marauders' van gave a grateful cough before the engine shut off. It had been a long, steep drive. The owner, a little old man with a long white beard tucked into his belt, welcomed them as they walked up to the main entrance. 

“Ah, the Marauders, welcome, welcome. Please, come in,” He said, waving them forwards. The castle looked even bigger from the inside. Remus had to crane his neck just to see the ceiling.

“Wow, bud, this is amazing,” He said to Padfoot. 

“So, Mr Dumbledore, how can we help?” James asked, puffing out his chest.

“Well,” The old man started. “I’ve been having a bit of trouble with things moving about the castle. I’ve had socks being thrown at me as I was walking down the stairs. My pears have flown off my plate and been juggled midair. And many other odd things happening all over the castle.”

“Don’t worry,” Lily told him, resting a hand on his. “We’ll take care of everything,” They split up to explore the castle. 

Remus picked the short straw, and while James, Lily and Peter all headed upstairs, he and Padfoot had to go down into the dungeons to check it out. 

It was dark and damp down there. Padfoot whimpered quietly the further down they went. Remus stopped beside a painting of a bowl of fruit and sniffed. 

“Mmmmm smells like chocolate.” He sniffed some more, touching the frame. It shifted. He swung it open, revealing a kitchen behind it. “Pads bud, I think we hit the jackpot!” He clambered into the hole and stood back so Padfoot could jump in. 

The kitchen was huge, with four long tables set out in a row. They moved further in and Remus opened the huge walk-in fridge door. He gasped at the abundance of food and immediately started picking at the food, making sure to give Padfoot a good share as well. He was chewing on a chunk of roast chicken when the door suddenly shut on them. “Cripes, Pads, what do we do now?” He asked his faithful friend. Padfoot sat back on his haunches, lifted his head and howled. Remus started banging on the door and shouting for help. 

It took a long time for the others to find them.

“Shouldn’t have been stuffing your faces,” Peter teased them when they ran out of the fridge once the door opened. 

“Hahaha.” Remus rolled his eyes, “Have you found anything?” Lily nodded.

“Yeah, we think it’s a poltergeist,” She told him.

“We just need it to reveal itself, and then we can deal with it,” James added. 

“You can’t catch old Peeves, he’s far too clever for the likes of you!” A cackling voice echoed around the room.

“Show yourself!” James yelled. Food began to hurtle itself out of the open fridge at them. They quickly took cover as sandwiches, treacle tarts and a myriad of other food crashed into them. 

“We need to trap him,” Peter yelled over the sounds of trays being dropped. 

“How?!” Remus asked. But before Peter could answer, Padfoot raced across the kitchen and jumped at the door, slamming it shut. 

“Hey! That’s cheating! Let Peeves out now!” The Poltergeist cried angrily from inside the fridge. 

“Good job, Pads,” Remus grinned, opening his arms, so the giant black dog could jump into them for a hug. “You’re the best boy,” Padfoot responded by licking a very wet tongue all the way up Remus’s face. “Eww, I love you too,” He laughed patting Padfoot’s huge head. 

“Well done, well done!” Mr Dumbledore appeared from nowhere clapping his hands. He wandered over to the fridge and opened the door. A little man dressed in bright orange clothes and pointed blue shoes hovered in the middle of the area. 

“Dumble wumble, Peeves isn’t happy!” He sulked. 

“There, there Peeves,” Dumbledore cooed. “If you promise to behave yourself, I’ll let you out,” The poltergeist sighed dramatically. 

“Fine,” He spun upside down and zoomed out of the room. Dumbledore turned to them. 

“Thank you, Marauders. He’s been pushing his luck for ages. I may need your services in the future if he starts getting out of hand again.” He handed James a pouch full of gold coins and waved as he left the kitchen. “You can see yourselves out when you’re ready. Thank you again.” He called. The Marauders looked at each other flummoxed by the odd behaviour, but quickly left the strange castle and its even stranger inhabitants. 

James got behind the wheel to start the long journey home while the others relaxed. Remus curled up on the floor of the van, pulling Padfoot close, snuggling into his soft fur as they both fell asleep, their stomachs full and tired from their adventure. 

[munsonsreputation]

21 (already under)

eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: [3.2K]

warnings: warnings: no use of y/n, lovers to strangers, mentions of underage drinking, crying (mentions of breakup), isolation, brief talk of anxiety, cursing, angst...ambiguous ending (maybe part 2)

summary: it's eddie's 21st birthday and though you two have been broken up for 2 years, you can't help but wonder if you should call him up and wish him a happy birthday. but to your surprise, it seems he has already beaten you to it.

Pacing back and forth in the living room of your apartment isn’t ideally how you imagined to be spending your Saturday night, but in hindsight, these days you practically spent the entire day confined to the four walls.

Your days used to be filled with stops at the trailer park to visit your favorite metal head and nights spent at the Hideout being his biggest fan in the crowd. But all of that, including him was now gone in the rearview for quite some time.

So much time had passed, but at the same time it felt like it was just yesterday where you and him went your separate ways, living two completely different lives in the same small town where you did your best to avoid each other.

But how could you avoid him without running into his friends or stumbling into Uncle Wayne at the grocery store from time to time?

All of it was just fucking impossible, and a huge chunk of you wanted to pack your things up and move away, but you knew his ghost would follow you everywhere no matter where you were in the world.

Even tonight, in the confines of your apartment, you couldn’t avoid him.

It was his twenty-first birthday today. The big 2-1 that marked the age where he could finally drink legally without facing any repercussions from Hopper. A coming of age that was supposed to be celebrated with you next to him at the Hideout.

You two had planned it out years ago when you were just seniors hanging out at Lover’s Lake with your hands intertwined and the sun setting down on the both of you.

“Hopper is gonna lose his shit if you get busted for underage drinking again.” You chided quietly, feeling him pull one of his hands away from your waist to reach over and grab an ice cold beer from the small cooler he packed.

He rolled his eyes playfully, taking a swig of the bitter before holding it out for you.

“He did the same thing when he was our age…maybe even a little worse! He’s got to cut me some slack.”

“In three years, you’ll be 21, then that’s when he’ll cut you some.”

Eddie scoffed, slinging his arm across your shoulders, tugging you close to him as you squealed, trying not to spill the beer all over the both of you. Resting your head on his shoulder, you got comfortable, taking a sip of the drink that was definitely not your choice of beverage on a scorching afternoon, but it would make do for now.

“My 21st is gonna be at the Hideout, obviously.” He said, rubbing his hand up and down the expanse of your arm.

You looked at up him through your lashes, blinking kindly, “Yeah? I just know the groupies are going to have a field day with you.”

He met your eyes followed by a dramatic huff as he shook his head and squeezed your skin lightly, almost in a soft, scolding way.

“Stop that. You know you’re my favorite fan…my one and only groupie.”

You scrunched your face up at him lovingly, puckering your lips and silently asking him to grant you with one of his famous kisses that you would never get tired of — even if it was a little peck.

“Do I still need to RSVP or will the offer still stand?” You mumbled against his lips.

You could feel his smile against your skin, before feeling another kiss come down on them.

“It wouldn’t be a celebration without you there.”

Yet here you were years later anxiously pacing your apartment and contemplating whether you should pick up the phone and at least greet him on his birthday before the clock strike midnight.

Part of you wanted to think that the split between you and Eddie was amicable, but in reality it was something so far from that. You had always thought that maybe Eddie would have seen it coming — that the growing distance and constant fighting was a telltale-sign of a break.

But he didn’t see it at all. In fact, he was completely blindsided.

“Just tell me how to make it better.” Eddie pleaded, holding your face in his hands, attempting to try to change your mind about your decision.

You couldn’t bear to look at him, to see the desperation, heartache, and confusion cluttering his features in the worst kind of way — the way that you couldn’t fix because it was coming from you.

“There’s nothing you can do,” you whimpered, shutting your eyes tightly as the salt poured down your cheeks and you forced your face away from his gentle touch.

He pursed his lips together, rubbing a rough hand down his face as the silence ate him up whole, not knowing if he was man enough to go in for a hug or ask you to leave and forget that you two ever existed in a world where you two loved each other.

Because he still loved you, even when you were standing in front of him, breaking his heart into a million pieces that were bound to be shattered all over again if he tried to make any other offers to fix it — fix you two.

Your sobs filled his bedroom, cries that even you couldn’t explain because no matter the distance or stupid fights you and Eddie got into, this was the last thing you wanted to do. Desperately you wanted to see it through, to know that you and him would grow out of the phase together and come out of it stronger, but you knew deep down that this was what you needed.

What your heart needed.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, swiping your fingers over your eyes as you finally opened them, met with the sight of him still crestfallen.

You couldn’t stand to be there any longer, brushing past his figure as you dashed through the trailer and dug for your car keys in your pocket. He didn’t chase after you — you had already left him standing there and he couldn’t bear watching you drive away too.

You weren’t sure what you were sorry for — perhaps everything.

The way it went down.

For not giving him any warning signs.

Leaving him with no closure at all.

If he was taking the heartbreak personally, you wouldn’t blame him because if he had done you the way you did him, you’d be avoiding him, too.

In defense, he avoided you first, ignoring phone calls where you wanted to check up on him and see how he was doing. Instead, you were met with Uncle Wayne’s voice telling you that the boy was busy — busying himself with trying to forget you.

“Who is it?”

You could hear him asking in the background, quickly covered up by his uncle clearing his throat trying to mask his nephew’s voice. It was then that you understood that things would never be the same, that Eddie couldn’t even bring himself to talk to you anymore because for him it was like torture.

But sometimes you’d imagine it would be different had you gone a different route with ending things with him. That maybe if you had let him down slowly you two would still be friends, maybe even the potential of getting back together someday.

Late nights since the breakup were spent dreaming up the scenarios where you and Eddie could co-exist—

“How are doing?” You asked honestly, reaching out a steady hand that you rested upon his watching the way his eyes flickered with content.

“Fine. I’m doing really fine.”

But then you wake up, the black and white in your dark bedroom and the empty spot beside you, a reminder that it wasn’t real, and it sure wasn’t forever. That you had left him unexpectedly with a flame without yours…leaving him on fire.

The sound of your landline ringing halted your undying pacing. Your stare burning a hole through the phone that rattled on your coffee table. It was nearly eleven, just an hour left before his birthday would be done and over with.

He was probably at the Hideout celebrating with his band, so it couldn’t possibly be him.

“H-hello?” You answered, kneeling at the table while one hand picked up the phone and the other held your forehead.

“Hey you, how is it going?”

Robin Buckley, the only person in Eddie’s life that still remained in yours, but from a distance. No in person hang outs or daily phone calls, just occasional check in’s to see how you were holding up because she knew that the breakup was still affecting you the way it was doing Eddie.

You sighed, shutting your eyes as your fingers rubbed your temples.

“I—I’m fine…you know, just hanging around. What about you?”

There wasn’t much energy you had left to try to convince her that you were doing something way more interesting than overthinking the night away. Despite you and her not being really close or acquainted, Robin was an expert at one thing, and that was reading between the lines and picking up on things.

She didn’t want to put you on the spot. To tell you that from your voice alone, she could tell you were lying through your teeth. She already knew it was hard enough already and her pointing it out would only make you feel worse.

So she cut to the chase.

“I saw Eddie tonight…at the Hideout for his birthday. Nance and I stopped by to buy him a few drinks and give him his present. He’s wasted. I mean just completely shit faced—”

You took a sharp breath in, squinting your eyes that were about to turn salty all over again.

“Why are you telling me this?”

It came out harsher than you wanted, but really the last thing you wanted to hear about was how Eddie was having such a blast without you there. Part of you wanted to think that he would relocate his birthday celebration, assuming it would bring up too much hurt partying in the place where he planned to do it with you.

There was a hitch in her breathing, probably partly taken aback by your tone, but she worked past that.

“I just thought you should know…”

Her voice teetered on the edge of wanting to say more, to tell you the full story, but she didn’t. She didn’t know if it was her place to tell you everything Eddie had said tonight, how his birthday celebration came to shit the second he got an ounce of tipsy.

“I appreciate it, Robin, but really, I’m—I’m over it, him,” you corrected, “I know he’s having fun.”

You didn’t mean to just hang up without allowing her to speak or say goodbye, but you couldn’t help it. One more second on the line with her and even just another word spoken of his name, then you were sure that you’d end up a crying mess with her consoling you through the phone.

You didn’t want to picture him half drunk happy, chugging down shots without a care in the world for the hangover he’d have the next morning. The way he’d have to wake up without someone taking care of him and holding his hair back as he’d throw up everything in his system. The thought of thinking about who was going to drive him home and get him back to the trailer safely.

It was sickening…the worrying thoughts that still lingered in your head when it came to him. How you shouldn’t even be concerned in the first place because he was an adult and capable of taking care of himself. Yet here you were still worrying, imagining the life you two would be living if you stayed in each other’s lives.

Even two years later this feeling didn’t budge and you were sure that if it kept up, it would be enough confirmation that you had made the biggest mistake of your life — letting your one true love slip through your fingers and now all that he would be was a painful reminder of the love you lost when you were younger.

And you were afraid that how it was going to stay.

You ran your fingers through your hair, giving the ends of them a particularly hard tug out of pure frustration and annoyance. Taking a deep breath, your hands ran down your thighs before you stood up and for the first time tonight you stopped pacing.

Instead, you began flipping the light switches off, ready to turn in for the night and accept the fact that wishing Eddie a happy birthday would do neither of you any good.

Reopening that wound would make it hurt more than it already was. Just because you were hurting and searching for that closure didn’t mean that he owed you that. He didn’t owe you the light of day, not even fifteen seconds of his time on a phone call.

It was already over and it was best you left it that way — to move on and keep trying to forget as everything just kept pulling you under.

You glanced back at your dim living room, fingers ready to pull on the beaded string on the lamp to make the whole place dark before you proceeded to walk towards your bedroom and sulk the night away, being greeted by the love of your life in your dream.

But instead, before the whole place could illuminate black and white, there was a knock at your door. One that pounded hard, almost banging, followed by grumbles on the other side of it.

“A—are you in there? I wanna…wanna talk!”

Another round of loud and noisy knocks and for a second you thought you were in a dream. Pinching your skin to try to wake you up from the horrible nightmare that was tormenting you and your frail little heart. But to no one’s surprise, it was real — more knocking and his garbled talking confirmed it.

Your feet moved quickly against the wooden floors, crossing the boundaries between the living room and entrance where you stood on the other side of the door, fingers moving nimbly to undo the lock and chain before you pulled it open.

There he was in the flesh, leaning up against your doorframe, lazily keeping himself steady. He reeked of alcohol and you weren’t sure if it was merely his deep breathing that pushed the sharp smell of vodka and whisky towards your nostrils — or if he had spilt a drink or two all over himself, but it was clear that he was wasted.

Just as Robin had told you — maybe even more.

You wanted to avoid eye contact, to try to focus your sights on somewhere other than his deep brown orbs that could see right through you, but it was futile. Immediately your eyes met, the stare lingering so intensely, speaking volumes in the most silent and torturous way possible.

Though he was intoxicated, he still knew you like the back of his hand. Could read every emotion that covered your face and even beneath the exterior that you tried to put on. He knew you had been crying.

The swollen skin around your eyes dropping them down and making them look sadder than usual.

The tip of your nose red from the constant sniffles and swipes of tissue.

The frown that remained on your face and the slight quiver of your top lip that indicated you were holding it back all over again.

“W-what are you doing here?” Your voice was small and gravelly, breaking harshly, and though you coughed to try to play it off, he still knew.

Eddie watched you. The way your arms crossed over your chest and you finally had the courage to flicker your sights away from him, looking down at his covered feet instead. Your fingers tips pinching and tightening on your skin awaiting his response.

“I don’t know…t—to say that I’m sorry.”

You pinched your brows together, snapping your head up to look at him, “Sorry? Sorry for what, exactly?”

He shrugged his shoulders as he frowned deep and shook his head like he didn’t even know why he was here standing in front of you.

“Before you left, you said sorry…b-but you didn’t give me a chance to say it.”

You didn’t know what to say, hell you didn’t even know if you had any words left to speak even if there was still so much left unspoken. You stood there, eyes glued to his droopy ones that blinked slowly before he finally leaned off the wood and took a step back further into the hallway.

He was stumbling over his feet, but you didn’t dare take a step forward to help him. Eddie didn’t need you to. He regained his balance with his head down, holding a finger out towards you in a sign for you to wait. To not shut the door and leave him out again.

“Why couldn’t you just…just let me fix it?”

He tumbled over his words, keeping his head low in an effort to not break down here right now, but he couldn’t help but look at you when all he got was silence.

You swallowed, biting your tongue while the tips of your fingers turned white from the harsh pinching, desperate to want to run away and hide even when this was all you wanted for the past two years.

“You didn’t even let me try. Do you know how much it h-hurts?”

The end of his question broke with his voice, a whimper and a crack that let you know that the salt would start pouring any second now. And it was the same for you, his figure now a blurry mess as you croaked and shook your head, still not speaking.

He jabbed his finger into his chest while his face scrunched up, almost turning red with the tears that began to pool in his eyes.

“I…I still love you and you were supposed to be there tonight. I kept hoping you would show up. T-that you didn’t forget—”

Your foot stomped against the floorboards as you finally let up on your arm and brought your hands up to your cheeks to whip the tears away.

“I didn’t forget, Eddie! How the hell could you think I could ever forget?”

Here you two stood yet again, resorting to this…whatever this was.

You didn’t try to shut the door or step back as he finally stepped closer, closing the space between the both of you and just leaving inches. His face was nearly nose to nose with you as you both stood there and breathed in everything.

The regret.

The longing.

The pain.

The loss.

The love that never left.

All of it flooding your senses and screaming at you to say everything that you had been bottling up. To release everything that you had taken with you under the waves of wicked currents in winless fights. That even if the lights were on or off, life without him was black and white, the cruelest kind of way to live because he showed you color that you could never see with anyone else.

And unlike the last time you and Eddie stood in front of each other, this time you didn’t pinch your eyes shut or move away from his hands that clutched your cheek. He didn’t have to be the love of your life inside your head when he was standing right before you.

“I missed you…and I’m sorry.”

💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!! 💌

taglist: @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world @givemeth @steveharringtonswife @astolenkiss @loving-and-dreaming @awkotaco24 @engenelxver @elfiaaaa @pbs-theundeadmaggot @johnricharddeacy @gaysludge @scoopshxrrington @micheledawn1975 @ihatepeanutss

a/n: my first pure angst feel kinda fic that i've written! i don't have a part 2 planned for this yet, but maybe i'll write one depending on how i am feeling and what i think the future would look like for reader and eddie!! i love "21" by gracie and this song just screamed eddie vibes...i hope you guys like it!!!

[izpira-se-zlato]

JO Paris, 22.03.24

Gig report! Compiled this morning in the car to Antwerp with help form @zadig-fate and @yoda-bor 💛 I recorded everything except Katrina (bc my camera app crashed in the middle), so I'll upload this once I'm at a place with stable wifi again :D

all my buses were delayed so I power walked to the train station. Then that train was delayed so I almost missed my Eurostar. Then my Eurostar was also delayed. "That's what I call a Deutsche Bahn special, actually." – Kris ("when your first train is late but then it's okay because the second train is also delayed")

so many people I knew in the queue. From Helsinki. From London last year. From Utrecht. 😊💛

when I grabbed my number, Jan and Nace returned to the venue (and they were so pretty in daylight and in person)

Nace said hi as they walked past 😊

their postures??? Nace has definitely worked on his posture, meanwhile Jan appears so slim and small. It's wild.

Jan and Jure returned to the venue together, looking… Pissed is too harsh a word, but frowning? So we first kinda thought they were actually pissed off. But then Nace showed up a minute later, his usual sunny self, and was immediately accosted by fans. So. I assume it was less "pissed off" and more "do not approach" (and it worked)

soundcheck was Gola and Vem da greš, which we could hear every time they opened the doors (this was my last general access gig. It's EA from here on out, baby!)

Kris and I had decided to go on the balcony and got spots right next to the sound booth, where we were joined by @thisismyobsessionnow 🫶

it was warm but the sound was really good (duh)

also we had nice cushy seats like the old people we are 😂

first opener was a duo of brothers made up of discount Jure and Käärijä if he was French. Discount!Jure had a nice chest (Jure at home)

their music was eh, the lyrics cringe

Kris says they spoke french but I spent most of their set on tumblr/discord so I wasn't listening, but it was a Choice since pretty much none from the EA crowd spoke French

speaking of EA, there were allegedly 60 EA tickets though I saw numbers up to 62 (500 people venue)

JC Stewart was fun

he was told he looked French prime minister. He got confused by president vs prime minister but he also got kinda flustered. He was shown a pic and was "oh yeah, I see it"

we got Katrina opener

Nace. Jfc.

the venue was super hot so I tried to appreciate the fit while he had it on in full – white buttoned shirt with a sweater vest over it and a proper tie and glasses, going for the full teacher look except hot???

I still spent a good chunk of the gig looking at Jure though. The elevated balcony spot gave ussuch a nice view of him

Bojan was smiley and sounded way less congested than in Utrecht (maybe he's on the mend?)

Kris on the other hand was sipping tea on stage. In particular very sassily during Demoni

Kris had guitar problems at the beginning of Šta bih ja and went to Kiki to get it fixed but Bojan didn't see and so was actually worried for a moment that Kris had gotten sick off-stage. Kris was adorable in reassuring him that he was fine

they were all so mobile again

og demoni scream. In the middle. Might have been Bojan letting out his anxiety over Kris having disappeared from stage

"Kris, honey" and then that moment. What in the BoKris was that. I just turned to Kris and said that out loud bc what the fuck

There was a sizeable crowd of Slovenians in the audience and Bojan was delighted

fairly even split in the crowd for French vs foreigners, though the French were louder in yelling

the most hilarious to me moment: Bojan did his spiel about "who here experiences panic attacks?" And the crowd cheered, and he was like "yay! Panic attacks! It's me!" And Kris next to me went "I'm the problem, it's me," and literally on the last syllable, Bojan started saying the exact same thing. One brain cell. Or maybe he has the stream on his in-ears

Barve oceana 🫶🫶💛💛

according to Astrid, I looked ridiculously happy (I was ridiculously happy)

best galaxy of me version tonight. I still don't like it though 😂 it's gonna be my metulji 😂

Bojan went into the crowd for Umazane misli

it's so fun to watch from above

Vita was his trusty shadow and also a beacon of light to spot Bojan with

this time I don't think they forgot her in the crowd

Bojan made the balcony sing while he was still in the crowd. But it was mostly just Kris, Madeleine, and me, at least on the bleachers/seated part. We still gave our best 😂

Carpe Diem was not part of their "encore" but came before

no Tokio :( might be the first show without it?

fucking Novi val

the way Jure jumped up and sprinted to trade a drumstick for a baguette, it was so hilarious

he was so happy, and he first made fun of Nace for being unable to eat it

he shared it with Jan

Jan got chocolate and they put it into the baguette and then shared it.

Jure let everyone else also take a bite, including Bojan who was ostensibly singing

Nace bottle feeding Kris. What the fuck. Can someone make sure they still don't know about AO3?

no Umazane shenanigans even though Jan and Nace had talked right before it so I'd been hopeful

so many um versions in other langauges. It wasn't the longest rendition, but we also

when Bojan said we'd get the original Slovene version, I thought it would be the one he made up on the spot when they went on stage to play it all the way back? When they were babies. So it was a small disappointment when it was just the regular Slovene version 😂

Bojan asked the Slovenians if they were able to tell that they weren't playing at home and they said no and Bojan was so so delighted

he's also given the mic to people in the audience outside of Umazane misli (ne bi smel and plastika, I want to say)

he sang galaxy of me with a guy from the front row (Josh?)

not a lot of Jance, possibly because they were looking after Kris?

still a lot of eye contact

or maybe it was the fact that they apparently were out in Paris together in the afternoon 😏

my phone was so hot by the end (and I have 4gb left of memory)

after the gig I couldn't find my hat so I was worried I'd left it, so I went back in. Which was how I got JC and Vita to sign my gig memory book

I had forgotten about wanting to grab Vita's signature so if Astrid hadn't reminded me, I would have missed out

the boys got JC Stewart sick, he said his voice was going

It was raining so the boys ran out of the venue towards a van while we cheered. Bojan took a group selfie

Jan and Jure left first with the crew in that van so we assume that the others took a second car

[dem-obscure-imagines]

I Know the End | Vol. 3

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.

Sentimental or Superstitious

You could tell when Poe walked into your meditation room that he didn’t exactly have good news. Your eyes were closed. You were floating in the back of the room, a few wooden balls floating in rings around you, like moons in orbit. You felt him in the doorway, watching, a certain warmth swirling in his chest.

“You can say hi, you know.” You told him, eyes still closed.

“Didn’t want to scare you.” He admitted, walking inside, steps slow.

“You couldn’t. I always feel when you’re here.” You finally opened them, letting in the light, dim though it was. “Your energy is pretty hard to ignore.”

“I’m flattered, your Highness.” He put a hand to his chest, his smile hiding something. You could tell. Maybe it was the Force, or maybe it was something else entirely, but you were always able to read him like a book.

You walked closer, using the Force to close the door behind him, then the curtains, granting you some privacy. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

“Mission. Black Squadron. Outer Rim. We’re gonna be gone for three days.” He said, taking your hand. He fiddled with your fingers absently, waiting for your response.

“Oh. Yeah, alright.” You nodded, that bittersweet feeling sinking in. It was familiar, in a way. That was how the Rebellion had been, too. People left sometimes for days at a time. Sometimes, they wouldn’t come back. It was a war. That was the nature of those sorts of things. “Be safe.”

“That’s…it? You’re not gonna try to stop me?” He asked, almost sad about it.

“I know I couldn’t if I tried.” You said, slipping your hand further into his. “You’re nothing if not stubborn. I happen to love that about you. And this…isn’t my first war. I know how these things go.”

He nodded, eyes locked on the way your fingers looked together. Yours in his. His wrapped around yours. You’d held his hands so many times, and yet, he still got chills from the feeling. Everything about the two of you together felt so right. He couldn’t remember a part of his life without you in it anymore. It both thrilled and scared him.

“I just…I need you to know that every time you climb into that cockpit, you’re taking my heart with you.” You said, taking a step closer, raising your hand to rest against his cheek. “Be careful with it.”

He’d shaved a few days before, but now he had some decent stubble growing back already. It suited him.

Poe closed his eyes, let out a long breath, letting your touch soothe away the cresting doubts in his mind. He reached up and held your hand against his cheek, eyes big and sad and brown. “(Y/N), you can’t just say that and still expect me to leave.”

You chuckled. “I know. I mean it, though. You…” You’re the love of my life, Poe Dameron. “You mean a lot to me, you know. I need you and that droid of yours to get back to me in one piece.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He smiled, pressing a kiss to your thumb.

“What time are you wheels-up?”

“About an hour from now. Hour and a half maybe.”

“Great. Then meet me in my quarters in five.” You told him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. With a flourish of your wrists, the curtains opened again. You used the Force to push the door back open, into its welcoming, propped position.

BB-8, who was sitting just outside it, whirred in greeting, promising to help the mission go smoothly.

“Oh I know you will, Bee.” You reassured him, glancing back at Poe as you left him standing there, your heart in his hand. “You’re one of our best.”

***

You sat on your bunk, fingers fiddling with the Mariposan Healer’s Pendant, which you had strung from a leather cord. It was the same cord your kyber crystal had been strung on, repurposed. When the door slid open, you set it on your nightstand, looking up to find Poe, still in his leather jacket and a soft shirt.

He shed the jacket almost immediately, depositing it on the chair at your desk. He walked over to the bed, hands finding your waist quickly as he kissed you. It was different this time, slower, more passionate, deliberate and careful. He brought one hand up to the back of your neck, guiding it into your hair.

Poe leaned forward, urging you onto your back, movements hardly domineering, but steadfast and sure. Guiding, not demanding. A request, not an order.

You laid back, a hand on his cheek, the other guiding him down on top of you.

He rested his head on your chest, letting out a long breath as you started playing with his hair, his arms looped around your waist. His breathing was slow, relaxed. He knew if he closed his eyes, he was at risk of falling asleep to the lulling forces of your warmth on his cheek and the smell of your sweet perfume wafting through his nostrils.

“Is this an okay position for you?” He asked. “I just…your wings. I don’t wanna crush you, baby.”

“They’re flexible like that. They’ll be fine.” You reassured him, fingers still buried in his soft curls. “It’s like falling asleep on your arm. Cuts off circulation for a little while, but no real harm done.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, the vibrations gentle against you.

“I’ve never seen you scared like this.” You told him. “Is it a bad one?”

“Pretty routine.” He shrugged. “Nothing particularly dangerous. It’s…well, it’s all dangerous on some level, but you know what I mean. I just…I’ve always flown with nothing to lose. That’s not really the case anymore.”

Your heart just about melted. You kissed the crown of his head.

“You know, Rose says that…this Resistance…it’s not about fighting what you hate, it’s about protecting what you love.” You said. “That’s how it was for us, too. You can’t think about the what ifs too hard. You have to think about the celebration after. You picture all your friends there. Alive. Happy. Safe. And you fight for those victories, the ones where everyone gets to celebrate.”

He smiled, tilting his face up to kiss your cheek, then your lips. He hovered above you for a moment, admiring you, that flyboy smile returning to that handsome face. “You’re wiser than your years, you know.”

“I’ve been told that, yeah.” You chuckled, leaning up to kiss him. “I, uh, have something for you.”

“Oh yeah?”

You sat up as he sat back and reached for the necklace on your nightstand, pressing it into his palm. He stared at it for a long moment, He thought about this rock a lot, the one he’d used to wake you up, the one he’d journeyed across several planets to find. He couldn’t fathom why you were giving it back to him now,

“Baby, this is yours.”

“You used it to save me once. It’ll bring you back to me in one piece.” You said, curling his fingers around it. “Call me sentimental or superstitious…”

“Thank you.” He said, grasping it tight. He slipped the cord over his neck, the metal clinking against the ring there. His mother’s ring. “I’ll get it back to you. I promise.”

You pressed one final kiss to his pillow-soft lips before murmuring, “You better, flyboy.”

History Echoes

You saw the Squadron off from your spot on the hill at the edge of camp, watching as their X-Wings took off into the air, getting into formation before blasting away at lightspeed. Your hair blew in the breeze. Artoo beeped beside you, comforting.

“Oh I know, Artoo. He’s the best there is. And BB-8 will take care of him.” You said.

He beeped out a message, basically calling you out for being too emotionally invested in a pilot.

You laughed. “I know that, too. But this flyboy is different.”

Artoo agreed and the two of you returned to camp.

In the afternoon, you stood in the patch of dirt outside the kitchens, fenced in loosely. You’d been saving food scraps, propagating the ends of heads of lettuce, producing sprouts from fruit pits, collecting seeds. With so many troops, fresh food was a luxury you could not take for granted. Being able to grow more food would be crucial.

“I knew it was a matter of time before I found you out here with your hands in the dirt.” Laesynda said, gliding through the gate. Posture straight, eyes warm.

“Took me a while to get things to sprout.” You confessed. “And I recently stumbled into some free time.”

“Mind if I help you?”

“If you don’t mind getting dirty, Admiral.” You said, a glint of mischief in your eye as she knelt in the dirt beside you, despite her long, flowing Mariposan garb. You used a trowel to create little holes in the dirt, carefully placing sprouts roots-down in the moist soil. You covered them carefully, sweeping the dirt into place with your hands, patting them down flat.

Laesynda helped, very obviously trained by the few Mariposans that remained. Gardening and plants had always been important to your people. You were glad that your sister had learned that, despite the circumstances.

“I heard Black Squadron shipped out.” She said, voice even. “You doing okay?”

“Oh yeah. I’m fine.”

“So this isn’t stress gardening?”

“No. Well, maybe a little.”

“How are things with you and him?” She asked. “I heard him lying to some of the rookies that Jedi aren’t allowed to fall in love.”

You burst into laughter, able to picture it so easily. “He would say that, wouldn’t he? Well, it’s good. We’re good.”

“I noticed you two touching less. In public, that is. I figured that either meant your little gala went very well, or very wrong.” She said with a laugh.

“I think you and Soren are the only two that have it figured out.”

“Not Rey?”

“She doesn’t pry, which is nice. And if we tell one person, we’ll have to tell everyone, and we’re definitely not ready for that.” You admitted. “I do plan on telling Leia, though. She’d want to know.”

“She’s been rooting for you two since the beginning.” Laesynda confessed. “She and I talked about it one night over a bottle of Mariposan wine.”

You missed those days, gossiping with Leia. It was…weird, being in different age groups. You hoped it was something you would grow back into, being friends with her again. Now, whether she meant to or not, she treated you as something of a niece. A child of hers, even, which only made sense, given the circumstances on her end. But still.

Chewie stood at the fence and let out a curious roar.

“We’re starting a garden. Growing some fresh fruits and veggies for the food supply.” You told him. “Do you want to help?”

He agreed, walking over and setting to work with you, helping move heavy piles of soil, and once things were planted, he helped move some stepping stones into place. You set out large barrels to collect rainwater. It rained a decent bit on Ajan Kloss, but it was also pretty warm. It would be nice to have some water saved in case you hit a dry patch.

The three of you worked out there for hours, a few other volunteers helping until you had several neat little rows of plants, as well as paths through and around them, the fence reinforced to keep out the native species of animals that lived on the planet. Most of them were friendly, at least as far as you knew, but you were sure they were more than likely to end up nibbling on your veggies.

Laesynda wrapped an arm around you, Chewie standing on your other side as you looked down at the literal fruits of your labor. If you all lived on this base long enough, you could only imagine the kinds of things that would start to take root.

***

In the canteen, after dinner, the room was filled with various recruits, passing their idle time before bed. Some played cards, some read quietly by themselves. Some were sharing drinks, telling stories from home.

You were sitting in there, getting some reading done yourself. Luke had left you some notes he’d taken during his studies. Experiments he had done, learning new tricks and abilities with the Force. He’d written about a Force-sensitive tree that he and Poe’s parents had planted on Yavin IV. He’d written about a young Yoda-like student he’d had, a baby who was fifty years old, raised by a Mandalorian. He’d written about Force healing, that is, how to use your life force to heal most injuries. Extreme ones were risky, supposedly, but minor injuries could be patched up mostly harmlessly.

It was good to know. You had never tried it. Though you hadn’t had all that much training before going to sleep for thirty years. But that was what the notes were for, you supposed. To fill in those blanks.

“This seat taken?” One of the new recruits asked. He was a pilot, that much you knew. Not Reggie. This guy was tall, covered in lean muscle. He had something of a mullet, hair a dark brown color.

“Not at all.”

“You’re the princess, right? The Jedi?”

“That would be me.”

“I’m Foxx. I’m with Blue Squadron.”

“Cool. Nice to meet you. Welcome to the Resistance.” You said, turning back to your studies. You could feel his eyes on you, though. 

“Commander Dameron was spreading a rumor, I thought I’d find out if it was true.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

“He said Jedi aren’t allowed to fall in love. Thought I’d ask you out. See if I could change your mind.” He asked.

You thought he was joking. Wanted him to be joking. But when you looked up, his eyes were dead serious. You laughed.

“Is this that? This is the…asking me out part?” You laughed again and the cocky look on his face flickered. “Listen, kid, I’m flattered. But…Commander Dameron never lies. I don’t date. Especially not flyboys like you.”

You packed up your book and gave him a friendly shoulder pat, chuckling at the irony of it all before moving towards your room to read there instead.

“You don’t date, huh?” Leia asked, walking somewhere. “You and Luke must have changed your minds on that, then.”

You laughed. “Yeah something like that. That or it keeps these ogling rookies off my back.”

“You can’t blame them, you know. I remember when we were the elusive young princesses on base.” She chuckled. “You alone get to share that burden now.”

“The weight of the galaxy on these shoulders.” You said, reminiscent. “How have you been, Leia?”

She offered her hand. “Why don’t we have a talk? It’s been a while.”

“I was going to say the same thing.” You agreed, taking it. The two of you walked back to her quarters and sat in the chairs she had by the window, overlooking, ironically enough, your garden. A flowering tree was growing just beyond the window’s edge, purple and pink hues framing the sight perfectly.

You looked around. There were a few projected holos of her and Han, their wedding, and a boy you could only assume was Ben, or more accurately, Kylo. You shivered.

“How has your training been going?” She asked first.

“Really well. Soren is coming along nicely. He’s a little unsure at first, but once he’s done something a few times, he really gets the hang of it. And Rey, as I’m sure you know, is a natural. I haven’t seen the Force this strong in anyone since…well, since Luke.”

“I barely believed it myself when Han brought her along for the first time. He really warmed up to her. You know how hard that was to pull off.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” You replied, letting out a breath.

“And no one around here has been giving you trouble?”

“Oh, no. Everyone’s been nice.”

“Even Poe?”

“Especially Poe.” You said, lips curling around his name with warmth. 

You met her eyes and…you could tell she knew. She was your best friend, had been since you were girls. Your dads had been friends growing up. Well, her adoptive father, but Bail Organa had been nothing but good to her, whereas Vader had a muddier track record.

“He’s a little reckless,” she said, tone indicating this was the beginning of a list. “Headstrong. He’s got a bit of a rebellious streak. But…he’s incredibly loyal. Brave. I…well, I see a lot of Han in him.”

“I can see why.” You nodded. You saw it too. Hell, you’d thought he was Han, that first time you’d laid eyes on him, your vision blurred.

“Did he tell you about his attempted mutiny?”

“His what?” You asked, sitting more comfortably.

She explained to you what had really happened just before the battle of Crait. The dreadnought incident, Admiral Holdo, and Poe’s attempted mutiny against her before he got stunned. You couldn’t help but chuckle a little, imagining where you’d have fallen in all that. It would have been tricky. Especially if you’d have had higher clearance than Poe, which you would have with his demotion. 

But at the time, Luke was still alive. Part of you was pretty sure you would have been off with him, untangling whatever web was still hanging between you, training Rey together.

“He’s learned a lot since then, I think. It taught him to take a step back, to look at the bigger picture before getting too trigger-happy.” Leia said softly. “I think if we need him, he’d be a great leader. A great general.”

“You’re not going anywhere.” You said, layering your hand over hers. “And you make a great general too, if I do say so myself.”

Her eyes twinkled. “It means worlds to hear you say that.”

“Leia…Poe and I…we’re…”

“Oh, I know.” She laughed. “You’ve never been able to hide things like that from me. I could feel it coming since the two of you first stepped off the Falcon together. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. I knew then that I’d sent him for a reason. And I think you’re good together, for the record.”

“Thanks.” You chuckled. “So you knew…when we went to that gala…”

“I was hoping you would. Figured it would help get both of your minds back to where they needed to be, instead of dancing around each other like Han and I.”

“We’re still keeping it kind of quiet, though.” You told her. “Just for now. We haven’t talked about…telling people.”

“I know.” She winked. “Take your time. We have a war to win, after all. There are stranger things we have to face than a princess and a pilot falling in love.”

It was like history was echoing, in a lot of ways. You could feel the way it bounced against the caverns, threads interlocking into something new, but familiar. This life, your new life, was made of the same cloth as the old one, after all. But this parallel meant something else to you. Leia and Han, though not forever, got their life together.

You could only hope to get to that point with Poe. A life after the war, a home to settle down in. A wedding. And you hoped Leia would be there, too. You hoped all of them would.

***

In the morning, the second day of Poe’s three-day mission, you laid in bed alone. You hadn’t really dreamt, aside from murmurs of him. His voice, his soft hair between your fingers, his lips. It felt different than your other dreams, the ones you’d had of him in your life before.

They weren’t prophecies anymore. They were real. He was yours.

But it still hurt when you opened your eyes and saw the empty pillow in front of you, didn’t even feel his presence down the hall in his shared room with Finn.

You hoped he was okay out there.

After a quick breakfast, you set out into the forest for more flight training with Soren. You’d set up a few variations on courses, training yourself as much as him, challenging the both of you to fly higher, further, faster. Covering distance would make you indispensable in a fight. Like an X-Wing on the ground, but with a lightsaber instead of a giant blaster. It would also make it easier to get away from a fight, if you needed a quick escape. There weren’t many enemies that could counter that kind of maneuver.

After that, you went into your meditation room to find Finn there, sitting on one of the cushions. Eyes closed, breaths slow and even. Ribbons of sunlight danced across his skin, through the billowing curtains that hung in the window. In front of him, one of your wooden balls wiggled once, twice, before lifting, very slowly, a few inches into the air.

Your eyes widened, staring. You weren’t doing it. Rey and Soren weren’t even there. No, it was Finn, moving it with his mind. With the Force.

“Finn.” You whispered.

His eyes opened and the ball fell. He met your eyes, confused almost, as to why you looked so shocked. “What?”

“You just…You’re Force Sensitive!” You pointed to the ball.

He stared up at you.

“What?”

“You were lifting the ball! I saw it!” You insisted, heart racing with excitement. You’d always known there was something about him. That spark of potential, waiting to be honed.

“I wasn’t trying to. I’ve…been stressed, so I thought I’d try meditation, like you and Rey do.”

You crossed the room, taking both of his hands in yours. “I always knew it. I could feel there was something there. This is…you’re one of us. I don’t want to spring all of this on you at once, but…if you want to, if you’re ready, you can start joining the rest of us for training. See if this is something you want to pursue.”

“You’re being serious.”

“Of course I am.” You nodded, wings fluttering a bit behind you. “We’d have to find you a saber, but…”

“What’s going on?” Rey asked, walking into the room with her staff slung over her shoulder.

You beamed at her. “Finn is Force Sensitive!”

“I knew it!” Her face lit up and she raced into the room, hugging him tightly. “This is incredible! I can’t wait to tell Poe!”

“Me either.” He grinned, opening up the hug to let you in. You hugged them gladly. This was the beginnings of it, you could feel it. These two and Soren. Your class of Jedi.

You were finally setting out to finish the work you had started some thirty years ago.

And you couldn’t wait to tell Poe either, when he finally got back.

***

After dinner, some of the mech crew had a bonfire outside. A small one. Roasted some ronto sausages that were in danger of going bad, cracked open a few saved bottles of liquor. You sat next to Finn, warming in the flickering light.

“He named me, you know. Poe.” He said, voice soft. You could barely hear him above the chirps of the crickets out in the grass.

“I didn’t know that.”

“He and I…when I escaped the First Order, we stole a TIE fighter and blasted our way out. Crashlanded on Jakku. That’s where I met Rey. But during that flight, he asked my name. I didn’t have one. They don’t give Stormtroopers those, just…numbers. An identification code.”

“Mmm…” You hummed, listening. In all your years, Finn was the first defected Stormtrooper you had met, had talked to. You were so glad he’d gotten out.

“And he wasn’t having it. Took the first two letters, F-N, and named me Finn.” He said, a smile pulling at his lips. “I…thought he was dead for a while. Didn’t see him after the crash. But, he’s nothing if not a fighter.”

“Definitely.” You agreed. Your eyebrows furrowed. “Do you…have a last name?”

“No. I don’t even know if I have a family out there, somewhere.” He admitted. “The First Order takes kids from all over. I doubt they keep track of which kids come from where.”

“I’m really sorry, Finn. That must be hard.”

“It was. Is sometimes, if I’m being honest. But Poe, Rey, you…you’ve all made it easier. You’re the closest thing to family I’ve ever had.”

“We are family.” You assured him, reaching over and putting a hand on his shoulder. “You’re more than a brother to me at this point. And someday, wherever we all end up after this war, you’ll always have a place in my home. I mean that.”

He let out a long breath, smiling warmly at you. “Thank you, (Y/N). Would, um…would you mind if I joined you tomorrow morning? For training?”

“I’d be honored if you would.”

Rugged Good Looks

Finn did indeed join the three of you for training, armed, as Soren had once been, with a large stick. You ran him through some basic techniques, since he already had experience with a saber, that seemed like a good place to start. The Force stuff would come in time, but it was clear he already had it, you’d just have to get him to build on it from there.

You sparred with Rey a bit after. She was really good. Her experience with a staff was evident with each flourish and move. You wondered absently if a double-bladed saber would suit her, or where you’d get the kyber crystals for that. Soren would soon be getting to the point where he should be building his own anyway, but you’d have to take a trip for that. A trip you weren’t sure the Resistance could afford, as things were currently.

But Finn would need a saber soon, too…

Soren and Finn ran some drills, Finn watching as your nephew did the first few, the sound of your legacy saber familiar. You were proud that he was wielding it. Proud of him, really. He’d come so far in such a short amount of time. You were sure he’d be ready for field work soon. Couldn’t imagine his mother would be thrilled about it, but you knew he was itching to get out there, to see the galaxy and make a difference in the fight against the First Order.

Just before you and Soren were set to switch to flight training, the sound of several X-Wings coming in for a landing breached the atmosphere. Black Squadron. They were home. A quick headcount of the incoming ships confirmed what you already knew to be true. Poe was fine. He was here. Your heart raced at the thought of it.

“Black Squadron is back!” Rey said, smiling.

“Let’s…call it a day today.” You said, reaching for your water canister and taking a long drink. “Good work today, everyone. We’ll pick up there tomorrow.”

Rey and Finn exchanged a knowing look, but didn’t call you out on it.

“What about flight training, Aunt (Y/N)?” Soren laughed with a chuckle.

“Uhhhhhh I mean, I think we’re both doing pretty good at that, actually. One day off isn’t gonna hurt.” You said, heat blossoming across your cheeks.

The four of you began the long walk back to camp. You were a lot deeper in the woods than when you’d started training with just Rey all those months ago. More Force users meant it was a little more dangerous, the kinds of things you were doing. You didn’t want any unsuspecting comms technicians to stumble on your exercises out there and get seriously hurt.

You were maybe a quarter of the way when you spotted him,  BB-8, barreling towards you at top speed. At first, you thought he was just excited to be back, to see all of you, but then you caught wind of his beeps telling you that Poe was injured. That they’d taken him to the infirmary.

It was like time stopped.

Before you could say anything to the others, make any kind of plan, your wings flexed to their full span and you took off, racing through trees, about seven feet higher than you’d ever flown, soaring right past the mechs and engineers running through camp to take stock of the X-Wings that had just landed. Your speed alone would give a pod-racer pause.

You hung a right, never touching the ground once until you were at the front entrance of the infirmary, dodging through nurses and droids to find where they had him. You were breathless, wings burning. A nurse spotted you and ushered you towards Poe’s room.

From the doorway, you could see his battered orange flight suit. You stepped closer, breaths still heavy, scanning him over for damages as best you could while the nurse took his vitals. It was mostly concentrated to his face, it seemed. Two swollen, purpled black eyes, a broken nose.

“(Y/N)? How did you get here so fast?” Snap asked, standing on the other side of the cot.

You shook your head. “Not important. What happened? Is he okay?”

“I’m fine, sweetheart. Does it look that bad?”

“Can you see?” You asked, taking a few steps closer. It didn’t look like it, the way his eyes were nearly covered by the bruised flesh.

“We’re gettin’ there. Doc said these meds should help with the swelling.” He said, reaching for you, following your voice.

“Does it hurt?”

“Again, lots of meds.”

You chuckled, tears welling in your eyes at the sight of him. Maker, you were glad he was okay. “That wasn’t a no.”

He heard the crack in your voice and the sarcasm immediately melted away. His hand finally met its target: your own, fastening quickly around yours. “I’m fine, baby. It’s okay. Hey, look at me.”

Finn, Rey, and Soren walked in, BB-8 rolling in just after. He beeped out a long string, incredulous.

“You flew here?!” Snap asked, clearly impressed.

“You WHAT?!” Poe asked, wincing after, the enthusiasm of it hurting. “I didn’t know you’d worked up to that already!”

“She didn’t.” Soren said with a laugh. “Just flew. Straight over camp. Didn’t touch down once.”

“Heard you were injured and took off.” Rey added, walking over to stand with you. “Didn’t stay long enough to hear BB-8 say you were okay.”

He let out a lovesick sigh, squeezing your hand as Finn joined the two of you beside his cot. You could tell he wanted to say something else, but held it in with your friends all congregated there. “You should see the other guy.”

“What happened?” You asked.

“Fight with some spice runners in the Outer Rim. They intercepted one of our shipments, so we went to get it back.”

“Poe fought a guy three times his size.” Snap recalled. “Knocked him out, but not before…that.”

“Wow. Sounds like you’re a hero, Commander Dameron.” Finn chuckled.

“Feelin’ real heroic.”

“Looking real heroic.” Rey said, earning laughs from the rest of you.

“Take a scan. Might last you longer. They’re gonna have me back to normal in no time.” He assured, thumb tracing circles in the back of your hand. “What else is goin’ on around here? I was gone three days, I can’t have missed that much.”

“Actually, I just started my Jedi training.” Finn said.

Poe laughed. “Good one.”

“Poe.” You said, trying to meet his eyes. It was hard, with the swelling.

“Wait, what?! Are you serious?” Poe looked from you to Finn, who smiled nervously. “You’re Force Sensitive too? Finn, that’s great! That’s…wow. Maybe I should go on missions more often if you guys are so productive while I’m gone.”

“We need you here, too.” Rey said, smiling softly. “Glad you’re back. Glad you’re okay.”

Finn, Rey, Soren and Snap finished saying their well-wishes to Poe and then got out of there just as the nurse finished up, giving you some time alone with him.

He scooted to the far end of the cot, patting the space he’d left there.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Poe.”

“Don’t care. Come here. I’ve been waiting three days to hold you, I’m not letting some flesh wound get in the way of that.”

You chuckled, sitting on the edge of the cot, facing him. He reached up and took your face in both hands, his touch careful, but definitely more or less affected by the heavy meds they had him on. He pulled your face closer until your nose was touching the end of his and winced when your skin made the lightest contact.

“Careful.” You warned.

“I am being careful.” He insisted.

“Uh-huh. Sure you are. You are known for that.”

He grinned, ignoring the comment. “So tell me again about this flying over the whole base to get here?” He looked down at BB-8, who was still in the room, watching the two of you. “Did you get it? Can you show me?”

BB-8 beeped in affirmation and projected into the air, his memory of you getting the news, eyes zoning out as your wings spread to their full span, and then you took off towards the infirmary at top speed, leaves blown apart by the gust of wind you stirred up behind you.

Poe gasped. “Play it again. Slow it down fifty percent.” He said and BB-8 did just that, playing the clip again, showing the two of you your first full flight ever. You were the first Mariposan in generations to do so. “Wow, baby, you were worried about me, huh?”

“Can you blame me?” You said, turning to look at him, his eyes locked on you, gaze as soft as it could be despite the circumstances.

“I don’t think I could, showing up looking like this.” He chuckled. “I’ve still got my rugged good looks, though, right?”

“Always, hotshot.” You smiled softly. “You’d look badass if you weren’t in so much pain.”

His hand slipped into yours, fingers intertwining. He reached up and tilted your face, doing everything in his power to keep his very broken nose from brushing against yours on the way to your lips, but jolted when it did anyway, letting out a frustrated sigh. “This is gonna be really hard…”

You frowned, looking at his pathetic, pained state. And then Luke’s notes came to mind. Maybe your ex-boyfriend was good for something after all.

“Let me try something.”

“Are you gonna Jedi Mind Trick me into forgetting it hurts every time I try to kiss you? Because that could work…”

Laughter bubbled from your lips. “It would not work, actually. Those wouldn’t work on you.”

“Why is that? I’ve been meaning to ask.”

“Because they only work on idiots.”

He smirked. “Well, like I said, I’m on a lot of meds, so now is the time to experiment with that.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “I’d hit you if you weren’t already injured.”

“What were you thinking instead?”

“Permission to use the Force on you?”

“Uh, sure. I trust you.” He said, sitting up a little straighter, wincing at the effort it took.

Your hand tightened on his and you zoned in, taking a deep breath and focusing your energy. Your Force. You reached out with the other hand, holding it in front of his injured face. You closed your eyes, fingers splaying as you transferred energy from you to him.

He let out a little breath of astonishment, vision clearing as his swelling went down, bruises clearing to nothing. With a twitch, his nose set back into place. His mouth fell open, realizing what had happened. You’d healed him. You’d used the Force to heal him. Maker, the things that did to him…

You opened your eyes to find him staring back at you, eyes wide, mouth still hanging open. There he was, your Poe, his injuries from moments ago a mere memory. You lowered your hand, waiting for him to say something.

“What the actual fuck. How did you…do that?” He asked, reaching up to touch his face, experimental. When it didn’t hurt, he looked even more surprised.

“Luke left me some notes.” You admitted. “Finally read them. Apparently this is a thing you can do with the Force, transferring your energy to someone or something else. I didn’t know it would work until now.”

“Mmm…” He nodded, unable to fight the smile spreading across his newly healed face. “The nurses are about to be very confused.”

You laughed, leaning towards him, your nose brushing against his. His hands settled on your hips, pulling you a little closer as he finally kissed you, melting when his lips found yours. He reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, tilting your head as he deepened the kiss.

Part of you worried about someone walking in, seeing the two of you. Part of you didn’t care. You’d waited so long to kiss him again.

He let out a sigh, pressing his forehead to yours, eyes drifting shut for a moment. His lips grazed yours as he whispered, “Three days without you in that cockpit was driving me crazy, starlight. I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too.”

“Let’s get outta here. Go back to yours. Make up for lost time.” He said, eyes half lidded as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, tugging your waist closer. “Before we get caught in here recreating all the fantasies that have been haunting me.”

You gasped, playfully scandalized. “In front of BB-8?”

He glanced over, as if reminded his droid was sitting there. “Oh. Right. Bee, you wanna go recharge? It’s been a long few days.”

He agreed with a series of beeps, rolling out through the curtained doorway towards his charger in Finn and Poe’s room.

You stood from the bed and helped Poe up after. Once you were both upright, he couldn’t fight the urge any longer, an arm hooking around your back, just beneath your wings, sweeping you into a dip and connecting his lips with yours.

A wistful hum pulled itself from your throat, eyes fluttering shut at the passion in his movements. He really had been thinking through this for three days.

Poe stood you on your feet again, punctuating it with a kiss to your nose, then a kiss to your cheek, and then finally to your lips again. Then, he straightened himself out, leading you out of the room and into the bustling heart of the infirmary.

“Hey, uh, Nurse, am I good to go?” Poe asked, grinning when she looked him up and down, eyes widened at his suddenly healed face.

“Y-you…your face.”

“Don’t compliment him, it’ll just go to his head. Trust me.” You advised.

“Those meds really must have been something. I feel great. I’ve got some work to get back to, though, if you could clear me.”

“Uh, s-sure. Yeah, you look…yeah, that’s fine. Let us know if anything changes.”

“Will do.” Poe saluted, a hand settling on the middle of your back, a painfully neutral position as he guided you through the camp that you’d flown over not twenty minutes earlier.

Some of the recruits watched you, whispering to each other. You weren’t sure if it was about you and Poe, being seen together once again nearly as soon as he’d touched down, Poe’s injuries miraculously vaporizing, or your little flight. Maker, you really had given them a lot to whisper about lately.

You walked back to your quarters, waving amicably at friends of yours. A few stopped for smalltalk, but Poe was on a new mission, continuously guiding you back to the bedrooms. You punched in your code, ushering him in first while no one was watching.

As soon as you were both through the door, he closed it with his palm on the control panel, grabbing you by the hips and pulling you into him, crushing his lips against yours. You let out a gentle moan, hand wandering up into his curls, the other settling against the fabric of his jumpsuit.

You reached for his zipper, fingers fastening around the metal and tugging it down, earning a groan from him, a rasped breath.

“You know, I love it when you do it with the Force, but the other way is great, too.” He said, backing up towards the bed before pulling you down with him, wriggling his shoulders out of the restrictive suit.

He pulled it off, leaving him in an undershirt and boxers, laying on your bed, an orange heap on the floor. You hovered over him, a leg on either side, straddling his hips. One large hand ghosted over your thigh tattoo before they both found new spots, one against your cheek, keeping your face close to his, the other massaging circles on your lower back, edging closer and closer to your wings, but not daring to brush against the spot between them. Not yet, anyways.

The two of you made out for a while, eventually settling into a comfortable cuddling position, you slotted to his side, a leg thrown over his. His arm was wrapped around your waist, your wing spread like a blanket across him while his other hand gently ran down its silken surface.

“I can’t believe you flew to me, baby.” He whispered, still in disbelief. “Flew right over camp. No Mariposan has flown in…what, four generations? Five?”

“You would have too, if you had wings.” You smiled warmly, fingers wandering across his broad chest, stopping to linger on the healing amulet. It had done its job. It had brought him back to you, although a little more injured than you would have liked. But that hardly mattered now. He didn’t even have a scar to show for it. “You’ve been doing your research.”

“‘Course I have. I’m dating the Mariposan princess, after all. I take the responsibility very seriously. Someday, when everyone knows, they’re gonna ask me all the questions, and I’m gonna need to have all the answers.”

“Leia knows. She…figured it out a while ago, I think.”

He chuckled. “That checks out. Snap’ll probably figure it out if he hasn’t already. He heard me call you ‘baby’ today, and he knows I don’t just throw that word around. We can blame it on the meds, though.”

“You think he’ll buy it?”

Poe grinned. “No.”

You laughed, tilting your head up to press a kiss to his cheek, then the corner of his lips.

“Will you grab my jumpsuit?”

You nodded, extending a hand and using the Force to raise the jumpsuit off the floor. He plucked it from the air, digging into the pocket to pull something out. A thin strap of braided leather, light and dark brown woven together. Carefully, he wrapped it around your wrist, clasping the ends so it fit comfortably against your skin.

“Got this for you. At a little market. I read something, maybe it’s not true, about…Mariposans and bracelets. That you’re supposed to give them one to tell them you’d like to…court. I know it’s old-fashioned, but…”

“It’s true.” You smiled, lacing your fingers through his. “So we’re super official, then.”

“I was hoping so.” He murmured, pulling your arm up over his shoulder, drawing you closer and pressing his lips to yours, moving slow, savoring every taste of you. “I’m yours, (Y/N). Always have been. Since the moment you opened those beautiful eyes in that pod. Said you liked my hair and thought I was Han Solo.”

“Is that the way to your heart?” You asked, reaching up to play with the curls in question.

He smiled, taking your hand and kissing up your arm, past your shoulder, up to your lips. “One of ‘em.”

You murmured sweet nothings against his lips, finding them again and again, over and over, his hand gently sweeping down the length of your wing.

Eventually, the two of you would have to go back out there, figure out what came next. What the next move was, both for the war and your relationship. But for now, it was you and him.

Your pilot. Your Poe. And maybe someday, your prince.

Downpour and a Bottle of Wine

A few days later, Leia called another strategy meeting. This one was smaller, essential folks only. This, of course, meant your boyfriend and almost your entire friend group, thankfully, as well as your sister and the rest of the Admirals.

“Our recruitment numbers are at an all-time high, which is…really great. Our new recruits have been training and fitting into life on the base very well, and despite our new garden, courtesy of our Mariposan royals, our supplies are…dwindling. We’ll need to get our hands on more ships, more weapons, more raw materials, more food.”

One of the analysts spoke up about some allies at farms a few systems out that were willing to provide animals, food, crops. The gardens would have to be expanded for the longterm as well. Chewbacca offered to reach out to some of his friends to secure even more resources to keep everyone fed.

“The Hoth base. Is that still there?” You asked, fiddling with the braided leather bracelet on your wrist. “We didn’t clear the place before we left it. In theory, there’d still be stuff there. Weapons. Potentially ships.”

“Definitely ships. If they haven’t been stolen, scrapped for parts.” Wedge spoke up. “We had four X-Wings we had to abandon because they needed repairs. A few transports, too. Plus plenty of building materials we could mine from the structures, if we aren’t planning on going back there in a permanent capacity.”

“It’s cold.” Leia said, unable to hide her smirk. “The team we’ll send will have to bundle up.”

Chewbacca volunteered himself, being more than equipped for the cold. Artoo would go, Threepio.

“Black Squadron can go to recover those ships, General.” Poe volunteered. “We’ll need some mechs to help us fix them up.”

“And some Jedi to dig them out of the snow.” Leia looked to the three, now four, of you, seated all in a row.

“Absolutely, General. Whatever you need.” You agreed, Poe’s eyes flicking to you and then away, a small smile all but concealed on those plush pink lips.

Leia finalized the team. Soren smiled when his name was thrown into the ring and agreed gladly to go. His first mission. But you knew he was ready for it. He’d trained for so long. He was confident with a saber, he was good at using his wings, and the Force was strong with him. He’d be fine. More than fine, if everything went smoothly. It would just be on you to make sure he didn’t freeze to death.

The higher-ups would notify the rest of their teams of their upcoming mission so they could pack warm enough clothes. Undershirts on undershirts, all the jackets that could be spared. Thick socks and scarves and knitted masks.

You left the meeting and started packing immediately, grabbing some warmer clothes from storage.

“Will you help me pack?” Rey asked, walking in there right after you.

“Absolutely. You’re a desert girl. The key to not dying on Hoth is layers and layers and layers. Heavy layers. The opposite of what you’re used to, I’m sure.” You said, and she nodded. 

Out in the heat, light layers that covered your skin were necessary to keep the sun off your back. On Hoth, the air itself was trying to kill you.

You helped her pick a few undershirts, warm leggings and snow pants and snow jackets. Gloves and hats and goggles, and then the two of them hauled it all back to your room to lay it all out for the morning.

“Would you mind terribly if I spent the night in here? We’re leaving so early tomorrow, I thought…” Rey asked. She looked around. “I can sleep on the floor.”

“Oh no, here.” You reached up above your bed and pulled the second bunk out of the wall, the bunk you never used.

Her face lit up. “Oh! I didn’t know they did that!”

“They never gave me a roommate, I’m assuming because they wanted me to adjust to…being alive again. But the bed has always been here. Ideal for sleepovers, one might say.”

“Excellent.” Her arms were wrapped around herself. “There’s…there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you about.”

“Yeah, sure, what’s on your mind?” You asked. You fully expected it to be about you and Poe. Compared to what it actually was, you kind of wished it was about Poe. It would have been easier.

Instead, she said, “I’ve…been connecting to Kylo Ren a lot. I keep having dreams about him and…sometimes when we’re awake, I can see him and he can see me. Never where we are, but…we’ve been connected for some time. I’m not sure why. I was wondering if it was normal, or…how to stop it if it’s not.”

“I’ve never heard of something like that before.” You admitted, very serious. “Luke and I were definitely connected, but not like that. Is he…mean to you? You get nightmares about him?”

“They’re not really nightmares, they’re just…we talk. He’s wanted me to join him. I obviously wouldn’t. He’s…”

“Right.”

She took a breath, thinking. “Do you ever…feel the pull to the dark side?”

There it was. Leia had told you, a long time ago, that this was something Rey struggled with. And obviously, Ben had as well, but he’d lost his fight.

“I think we all do, Rey. There’s nothing wrong with you. The Force isn’t just light or dark, it’s both. When we use the Force, we all open ourselves up to the temptation of the dark side, abilities locked to us, the secrets it promises to share. No person is completely good or completely evil. I think Luke was pretentious about that. But he had to be, his dad was Vader, you know? He and Palpatine were constantly trying to get in his head.” You said, letting her think for a moment before saying. “You’re my friend, Rey. I see the light in you, I always have. You’ve been through so much pain, but still cling to hope. That’s all we can do. One fight at a time, one morning at a time, letting the Force guide us.”

She smiled at that, reaching for your hand. You gave it to her. “Thank you.”

“Any time.” You nodded. “We have to get you a new saber soon. Finn, too. I was thinking about asking Leia after the Hoth trip. Seeing if there’s any way we could get our hands on one. Or some kyber crystals. Unfortunately, those things are not just lying around.”

“A new saber?”

“It’s a coming of age thing. Traditionally, you start training with an heirloom saber, but eventually, you should build your own, unique to you and your journey. There’s no rush to do so, but I feel like you’re ready. Soren, too.”

She nodded. “That would be nice.”

Your door slid open and Poe came in, staring at the two of you wide-eyed. You were just lucky he didn’t hit you with the standard greeting of, “hey, baby, I got a cut, can you kiss it better?” Would have been a little harder to explain away.

“Oh. Hi, ladies.” He said, looking back and forth between you.

“Poe, do you know my code?” You asked him, eyes narrowing.

“Might have picked it up at some point…” He admitted.

“You’re looking awful recovered for someone who had an estimated three weeks of recovery ahead of them.” Rey said, arms crossed. “How did that happen, anyway?”

“Don’t look at me, look at her.” Poe said, pointing at you.

“Turns out, I’ve got some stuff to teach you, actually.” You told her. “Luke left us some notes.”

She pointed to his face, looking at you, impressed. “You did that?”

“Can’t take credit for all of it, but yeah. The rest is just good genetics.”

“Heh, thanks, Princess. Anyways, the guys were thinking of having a little thing out at the cantina if our Jedi would like to make an appearance.” Poe said, which explained the patterned button-down he was wearing, top buttons unbuttoned just far enough to reveal the Mariposan healer’s amulet underneath. “Before we all go freeze our asses off on Hoth.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice.” You chuckled, looking to Rey. “You coming?”

“Yeah, absolutely.” She smiled. “We’ll see you down there.”

***

You and Poe made your appearance at the party, separated from each other, which was…odd to anyone who knew you. You made your rounds, having a drink or two, joking and laughing and catching up. You talked about the mission, figuring out who all was going. Aspen was, as it turned out. It would be one of her first field missions. Rose was going too, to help get the heating system working so you didn’t all freeze to death spending the night there. Chewbacca was going, too, which brought back memories to say the very least.

You played a few rounds of Space Pong, danced with Rey, and then caught Poe’s eyes. He was holding a bottle of wine, standing by the door, eyes saying everything his mouth could not from that distance.

You got the hint.

He slipped out the door first and you followed after a few minutes, claiming to want to get to sleep earlier for the busy day ahead. You gave Rey your room code and then left, walking out towards the clearing.

You looked around for any sign of him, out in the dark, but you didn’t see him. Just before you reached out to see if the Force could guide you to him instead, he jumped out from behind a tree, grabbing you around the waist and spinning you around.

A surprised squeal fell from your mouth and he kissed up your neck, shushing you.

“Gotta be quiet if you don’t wanna get caught, your Highness.” He murmured, kissing behind your ear, voice soft and sultry.

“Been a while since you’ve hit me with the your Highness, Commander.” You chuckled as he set you down. You turned to face him, one hand tugging him in for a kiss.

“I can use it more often, if you want.”

You shook your head. “No thank you. I much prefer the other names you call me.”

He grinned. “Like Princess?”

You laughed, giving his chest a playful push, nose scrunched. “I don’t like that one either.”

He perked up. “Wait, you seriously don’t like your titles?”

“Not particularly.” You admitted with a shrug.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” He asked, fingers sliding into their natural place, intertwined with your own.

“Well, it’s just…I mean, they’re practical when people are slinging titles around, I guess. General this and Admiral that. A ‘your Highness’ is fine there. But I like when people just call me (Y/N). And I like when you call me all sorts of things.” You said, wrapping an arm around his neck and pressing a kiss to his lips. “You can call me whatever you want, Poe. It always sounds right when you do it.”

His arm tentatively wrapped around your waist, still holding onto the wine bottle he’d snagged. “Well then, (Y/N), might I steal you away for the rest of the evening?”

“I’d be honored.”

The two of you walked up to the clearing together, hand in hand, swinging them between you as you stood beneath the stars. No wonder Poe loved flying so much. It looked like this all the time up there.

You sat on the grass, Poe beside you, leg against yours. He popped open the wine bottle and offered you the first sip. You almost giggled, tilting it back. You couldn’t count the times you’d been sitting just like that, sharing bottles with his mother. You had the same taste in wine, after all.

He took a drink from it next, setting it in the grass, twisting it a few times into the soft soil so it stood upright. He wrapped an arm around your waist, the other hand turning your face towards his, searching your eyes as though they held the keys to the universe.

He exhaled, staring at you like you were a painting in a museum and he was committing every detail to memory. “I’ve been fighting hard to keep the new recruits off of you.”

You giggled. “I heard about that. Apparently Jedi aren’t allowed to fall in love, huh?”

“Well, we’ll just have to hope that is a vicious rumor someone started.”

“Someone!” You laughed, pushing against his chest.

“Yeah, they must have gotten it wrong.” He said through a smile, arms grasping onto yours. “Because…this feels like that to me.”

He left the door open then, for you to say it in words. For him to say it back. And you did love him. Had for longer than you’d known. But saying it outright still felt wrong.

Instead, you replied, “I think we both know it is.”

He melted against you like a wave on the shore, sweet with the taste of the wine you were sharing, sip by sip. The two of you watched the sky for a while, sharing the wine until the bottle was nearly empty and the two of you were tipsy on the warm feelings swirling between you.

You barely noticed when the first raindrop fell. Nearly missed the second and third. But the downpour after was pretty hard to ignore.

“Maker, this came out of nowhere.” You said, wings flaring as you got to your feet. Poe stood beside you, eyes following a drop of water that trailed down your nose. “We should get back.”

“Wait,” Poe grabbed your arm, turning you towards him as he kissed you, his lips warm in the rain that was steadily soaking both of your clothes, your hair.

Your arms wandered up, hands linking around his neck as his wrapped around your waist, head tilting as a raindrop ran down the slope of his nose, onto your lips. You reached into his rain-soaked curls, grasping the collar of his jacket with the other hand. It was breathless, reckless, your heart racing in your chest flush with his as the lights of camp glowed in the distance.

Tomorrow, you’d be on a planet covered in feet of snow, but tonight, you stood in the warm rain, kissing Poe Dameron. There was no other place in the entire galaxy you’d rather be.

Eventually, you wandered back, held each other’s hands until you got close enough to get caught by whoever was on first watch. You nodded at acquaintances and coworkers, walking back to the housing quarters. Finn, Rey, and Rose were sitting in the front lounge when you came in, both absolutely soaked, head to toe.

“I thought you two came back here an hour ago.” Finn said, eyes narrowing.

“(Y/N) heard something outside. Concerning noises. I offered to go check it out with her, but we got caught in this kriffin’ downpour.” Poe said, taking off his jacket and shaking the water from it. He’d thought about letting you wear it for the walk back, but you were both already soaked. And you showing up in his jacket would only be more incriminating.

You shook our your wings in the same manner, water splattering across the floor. A cleaner droid powered up automatically, its brushes swirling to dry up the rain you’d tracked in. “Thanks for the help, Dameron.”

“No problem, yo–” he caught himself. “(Y/N). Glad to be of assistance. Have a good night.”

“You, too. See you tomorrow.” You said, walking back towards your quarters, Rey trailing after you, that knowing glimmer in her eye.

The two of you got dressed for bed, brushed your teeth, and got into your bunks, you on the bottom, Rey on the top. It was kind of comforting, the sound of her breathing. You’d missed having a roommate. Maybe after the trip, it wouldn’t hurt to open your door to a bunkmate again. But then that would severely limit your cuddling time with Poe, given that he also shared a room…

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes and willing yourself to sleep, lulled by the warmth in Poe’s chest across the hallway as he thought of you while he drifted off.

Hoth

The next morning, you and Rey got out of bed pretty early, throwing on the layers and layers of your cold weather uniforms. Jedi robes simply would not cut it on that planet. You’d learned that lesson once before.

You strapped your saber to your belt, a blaster to the other side, and set a pair of goggles on your head to protect your eyes once you got there. You met the others in the canteen to grab meals for the road, and then headed out to the transports, where the rest of the crew was slowly but surely assembling.

Soren was all smiles, helping Poe and Finn load up some boxes of supplies. Food, mostly. There was nearly nothing edible on that planet, aside from the wildlife, that was. But that would only be an option if the weather was nice enough to not immediately kill anyone brave enough to hunt out there. Nice being a relative term, of course.

“Ready for your first mission?”

“Yeah.” He replied, a boyish grin on his face. “Is it really that cold there?”

“Freezing cold. Constant blizzards. Trust me, you’d rather have too many layers than too few.” You advised. “Morning Finn! Poe.”

“You are looking rather…” Poe’s eyes scanned down your figure, obscured by the puffy jacket you were wearing. “Warm.”

“That’s one way to put it.” You chuckled. “You are not looking warm enough. Get those ears covered, Dameron.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He gave a nod, winking when he thought no one was looking.

Rose was coming along, Aspen, Black Squadron along with some of the new pilots. It would be a good mission for them, a relatively straightforward one. Well, in theory. Nothing was ever as simple as it seemed.

Chewbacca roared in greeting, his hand patting your head before he pulled you into a bear hug. You laughed, nodding.

“No, you’re right, I never thought I’d ever go back there either.”

Leia stood at the edge of the depot, smiling softly. She waved and you saluted, promising silently to get them all back to her in one piece, hopefully with endless bounties that would serve the Resistance well.

You and Soren said a quick, heartfelt goodbye to Laesynda and then loaded up into the transport with the others, watching as the planet got smaller and smaller.

You sat beside Rey and Soren on one side of the transport, Finn and Poe across the aisle with Snap. Chewbacca was driving, Threepio in the passenger seat up in front with him. You bent over and laced up your boots extra well, making sure your gloves were on tight enough, even though it was quite a ways out. Your wings twitched every so often, nerves building.

Suddenly, you weren’t so sure why would had suggested this place to begin with. You didn’t have many great memories of Hoth. Specifically, the outside stuff. Inside the base was fine, when the heaters were working as intended, that was. But the creatures outside were terrifying, and the weather had almost killed you. Literally.

Maybe you hadn’t prepared them well enough.

You felt Poe poking around your energy across the aisle, or trying to. Thinking very loudly. Reaching, watching. You met his eyes, giving him a pointed look.

He chuckled out loud, caught in the act, cheeks flushing red. Finn and Rey both turned to find out what was so funny. You focused your attention elsewhere and he blamed his chuckles on just how kriffing ridiculous you all looked, bundled up like marshmallows. It got a good laugh out of everyone.

Dread settled into your stomach as Chewie brought the transport out of lightspeed and into the planet’s atmosphere, the white globe familiar in the sickest of ways. He landed as close to the abandoned base as possible, but it would still be a bit of a walk.

You stood, taking a small canister from your pack while everyone bundled the rest of the way up. It was a specialty gel coating for your wings. You took a glob, gently rubbing between your fingers before spreading it carefully from the base of your wings outward. Soren did the same, making quick work of it.

“Can I help?” Poe asked, voice gentle, quiet, in case the answer was no because there were people around.

You nodded, handing the canister to him, showing him how to portion it and he helped, fingers gentle and careful, but thorough, grazing over the pink and purple extensions of your soul.

“What does this stuff do?” He asked, curious. He was always so curious about your wings. It was sweet, really.

“Protects them from the cold. Otherwise, they’d freeze.” You explained. “They’re delicate things, after all.”

“Beautiful, though.” He said, eyes warm, voice warmer.

“I happen to think they’re my best feature.” You said with a smirk, lost in him for a moment. His fingers gently finished up, fully sealing them from the harsh winds. You were ready.

You assembled the essential team. You, Rey, and Soren to move big chunks out of the way, and a handful of mechs to get the heating started as soon as possible. Plus, Chewbacca and a few fighters in case some scavengers were in the wreckage and didn’t take kindly to strangers.

“We’ll hold down the fort here.” Finn said, sticking an earpiece in his ear, same as the others.

“Good. Stay together. No one wanders off alone. Keep bundled up. Cover your skin. Even a few minutes out there can give you frostbite.” You instructed everyone. They nodded, listening intently.

“Good luck out there.” Snap said. He smiled a little, watching as you took control of the situation. Despite your appearance, you were wise and experienced beyond your years. “And may the Force be with you.”

You met his eyes. “And with us all.”

You led the others through the snow and blistering winds, face shielded by your mask, hood, and goggles.

The doors were sealed shut, thankfully. You held up a hand, working in tandem with Rey and Soren to pop it open without too much trouble. Three Jedi were far better than one. You could only imagine the things you’d be able to accomplish when Finn was with you, too.

Inside, a ceiling panel had collapsed, a great rush of snow covering a stairwell and one of the hallways leading to the bedrooms. You led the mechs to the utility room, where the controls for the heaters were while Rey and Soren worked to seal off the hole, holding the metal in place so it could be sautered shut, at least temporarily.

Chewbacca did a sweep of the perimeter, as quickly as he could, blocking off a decent chunk so you could get settled at least for now. You didn’t want to leave the rest of the team in the transport for too long.

With a triumphant thrum, the power kicked on, lights in the hallways flickering before illuminating the place in the stark, fluorescent lights. The team cheered, signaling to the others that it was safe to come in. And they did, marching up the hill in their snow boots. They’d have to try to move the transport closer later, you figured. Otherwise, loading the place up was going to be nearly impossible.

You walked down the hallway with the bedroom quarters, taking note of their state. Most of them looked fine. Dusty, but fine otherwise. You kept walking until you found the one you were looking for. Seventh room on the left. You punched in your code, still committed to muscle memory after three months spent sleeping there.

You stepped inside, careful, and looked around the room. It wasn’t terribly small, one of the perks of having a base dug into the inside of a mountain. Two bunks rested against the right side of the room, a small desk on the left, a wardrobe standing beside it. A few pairs of boots were sitting beside the door, under the floor-length mirror that was slowly defrosting as the temperature raised.

A book of notes sat open on the desk, a frozen inkwell perched on the corner in front of a few dust-covered books.

“This is quite the place.” Poe noted, stepping into the tiny room after you. “Bigger than I thought it would be.”

“Took the crew three years to dig it out.” You remembered, fingers lingering on the cold desk. “I only lived here for three months.”

“Is this…?”

“Our room.” You said, turning to look at him. “Shara and I.”

He’d taken off his goggles, the headband around his head. You dared to take off a glove. It was definitely warming up, slowly but surely. You shed your goggles too, threading the band through your belt.

He stared at the bottom bunk, where his mother’s name was painted in blue, the Aurebesh crisp and neat. His fingers slid across the letters.

You turned back to the desk, flipping through the journal. They were notes, mostly. Your notes, from your Jedi training. “I forgot about this book. It would have helped after Luke left.”

“Luke left you? Another time?”

“He went off to Dagobah to train with Yoda. I stayed with the Resistance–sorry, Rebels. They needed me. Or one of us, at the very least. Han and Leia were off dealing with…all sorts of stuff. I didn’t catch up with them until it was too late.” You said, continuing to flip through it until you found what you were looking for. Tucked between the pages was a scrap of paper Shara had scribbled on.

(Y/N),

Thanks for letting me borrow your earrings. Please get some sleep after that crazy night. I’ll save you some bacon before the pathfinders get to it.

-Shara

In the note, there were two small holes, where she’d punctured the earrings to make sure they got back to you in one piece.

You handed it to Poe, letting him read it. He smiled, eyes swirled with nostalgia and sadness. He forgot sometimes, but this was all the confirmation he needed. You had been friends with her. Passed notes back and forth like schoolgirls.

“Can I keep this?” He asked.

You nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

He reached for you, pulling you to his chest and resting his head against yours. It healed something in him, he was sure. Part of him, growing up without her, always mourned the fact that he would never get to introduce his future partner to her, the woman who had inspired him to fly in the first place, the woman whose ring he wore around his neck. But you’d already met her. And it was clear she’d been fond of you. It felt like fate, to him.

“Was Dad here, too?”

“Down the hall.” You nodded. “Three doors down on the left.”

“You two taking this one?” Finn asked, poking into the room. “We’re all picking quarters for the night.”

“Yeah, we’ll take this one.” Poe said, pointing to your name painted across the top bunk. “I’d say she’s probably got dibs.”

Finn smiled. “Fair.” His eyes wandered to the bottom bunk. “Who’s that?”

“My mom was her roommate.” Poe explained, eyes twinkling.

“I didn’t know your parents were Resistance.”

“They were Rebels.” Poe corrected gently. He nudged you with his arm, pride absolutely radiating off of him. “So was she.”

***

After hours of harvesting materials and packing up supplies into crates, Chewie had taken some of the others to hunt, most of them crazy thrillseekers that were desperate to experience the cold out there and see if it was really that bad. Rookies, in other words.

They were successful. They’d found a mammal of some kind. Nothing you recognized. Definitely not a Wampa. And everyone seemed to be okay, more or less.

“It’s kriffing cold as shit out there!” One of the rookies exclaimed, taking off their gloves.

“Nooooo, I never would have guessed.” You said quietly, nursing a cup of tea near the firepit in one of the lounges. There was a furnace that ran up through the mountain to vent the smoke.

Chewie got the beast ready, showing the rookies how to prepare the meat, how to cook it properly. You watched fondly. It brought back memories, it all did.

You’d finally taken off your jacket, just wearing a pair of sweats with a layer of leggings underneath, a sweater with a hole stitched in the back for your wings. You were working on another top by the fire, pulling the needle through, hemming the hole so it wouldn’t fray.

“What are you doing?” Finn asked, watching as you worked.

“Most of my clothes have to be modified like this for these things.” You waved a wing around aimlessly. “If I don’t, the fabric will fray and it’ll ruin the garment. I usually hem it as best as I can to reinforce it.”

“They don’t really make clothes for us anymore.” Soren said, familiar with the process, you were sure, having a pair of wings of his own. “Mom said there were seamstresses on Mariposas who made the most beautiful things we could wear with our wings. She still has some of them.”

“They were the coolest ladies ever. They’re the ones who taught me to do this. Knew I was gonna run off with the Rebellion and that most of their uniforms wouldn’t work for me.” You said, tying off the stitches with a little knot. You showed your work to Poe, who was sitting just too far, a few scooches to your right. You’d sewn a little X-Wing near the base of the slot, orange stitches on black fabric.

He smiled into his mug of warm caf, eyebrow quirking up the tiniest bit. You were his girl, after all. His chest swelled with pride at any reminder.

You set the garment to the side, following the others once Chewie was dishing out servings of food. Everyone settled in with a hot meal, like old times.

“What was it like out here back then?” Snap asked, everyone watching you and Chewie for answers. “What did you guys do out here for those months?”

“Hiding, mostly. It was the perfect base for that. The Empire never thought they’d find us on an oversized ice cube. It’s mostly uninhabitable, as many of you just learned. Signal was iffy out here, but we worked with what we had. We used to make what we called Hoth Ice Cream. We’d mix the cream from our milk batches with sugar and crushed berries and stick it outside for a few minutes until it froze.”

Chewie roared, explaining just how little you had to work with. How far your scraps had to stretch.

“Oh we were always scrappy. Had to be, we had so little. These days, we’ve got some support. Back then…no one wanted to stand up to Vader. Rebels were few and far between and we had a pretty bad reputation. I believe the word ‘Scum’ got thrown around a lot.”

Chewie laughed, nodding. He told a few stories about the tauntauns, about Luke’s encounter with the Wompa, wondering if there were more of them.

“I nearly froze to death out there.” You confessed, feeling the way Poe’s eyes jumped to you. “One of our communication dishes got caked in ice, so I flew up there to try to dig it out. Wind blew me off the roof and Chewie found me out in the snow, half dead. Carried me back, cuddled me to warmth. Saved my life.”

He roared affectionately, tilting his head.

“Of course I would have done the same for you, but I’m not nearly as warm as you. I don’t think my body temperature alone would have done much.” You chuckled.

He joked about you using your wings as a fan the next time he was really hot, and you agreed to that.

You told them about the music. At some point, you’d let it slip to the Rebels that music was a very important part of Mariposan culture, so the team had improvised instruments out of scraps. Drums made from scrapped ship parts and pieces of leather Chewie tanned, flutes carved from thick pine tree branches. You got up and dug around a box in the corner of the room, pulling one out. Hand-carved.

“One of the pathfinders made this for me.” You said, walking back to your spot and sitting down, dusting it off, brushing the mouthpiece with your sleeve before giving it a cursory test. It worked, making a gentle note when you blew into it. You tested some of the finger holes, trying out different combinations and building a clumsy little melody from home.

The room was quiet, listening as you played. You smiled, bashful beneath their combined gazes, and tucked the flute away.

Artoo beeped and rolled into the middle of the room, BB-8 watching from his corner. Into the air, he projected a video, Rebels singing and dancing to folk songs from their various home planets. Drums banging, someone hitting spoons against pots and pans. Flutes and improvised fiddles. Light and laughter.

In the back corner of the room, you and Luke danced, lost in each other. He spun you around, pulling you back to him. He looked so young there.

Shara was sitting next to Kes, who was drumming on one of the drums. He got boisterous with it, making Shara laugh, a melody in itself. Glimmering around her finger was the ring Poe wore around his neck.

He reached for your hand and you gave it to him, watching this piece of your life Artoo had been holding onto for all this time. You wondered what else he had stored in that seemingly endless memory of his. 

Poe’s thumb brushed over yours, and he used his foot to tug your chair closer to his, unwilling to be apart from you any longer, despite what the others would think. It seemed none of them noticed, or maybe they thought it was par for the course at that point. Poe had never been shy about touching you, or anybody, really, even before you had been dating in secret.

He smiled at you, eyes soft. And for a moment, you were glad you’d come. You were glad he was there with you.

Eventually, the guys found the alcohol that hadn’t exploded after thirty years frozen and the room cheered up significantly.

Rose motioned you over and you sat on the floor in front of her while she braided your hair. Rey shared a cup of something strong with you and you took a few sips, leaning back against Rose’s legs.

“Hey, when did you get this?” Rey asked, touching the woven leather bracelet on your wrist. “Is it new? I’ve never seen it before.”

“Oh! Yeah, uh…Poe got it for me.” You smiled.

“Poe got it for you, huh?” Rose asked. “That was nice of him. I didn’t realize you two were so close.”

“Yeah, we’ve really bonded since I woke up.” You said with a smile and a shrug, glancing over at him. “We keep…finding each other.”

He was knelt on the floor in front of Artoo, talking to him about something. You assumed he was probably trying to get a copy of that footage. You didn’t blame him. Droids, though pretty common, were still not something everyone had, especially back then. Artoo was probably one of the only droids with footage of his parents.

The other pilots started up a game of Truth or Dare, and it worked around and around the circle. You giggled at the antics, at the spicy secrets people spilled with their resolve weakened by liquid courage. Yours was dwindling, too. You were one well-placed dare away from kissing Poe Dameron hot on the mouth, right in front of everyone.

You supposed it was good luck, then, that he was the one asking you that fateful question.

“Truth.” You replied, knees tucked into your chest, hair braided down your shoulders like you were a teen at a sleepover. In some ways, you guessed you were.

“Why don’t you like it when people use your royal titles?” He asked, eyebrow quirking up in that signature expression of his. That Dameron smolder. He had used it to get the upper hand on many unsuspecting maidens, you were sure. It always did something to you.

“Mmmm, alright.” You thought, chuckling. “Poe, you can ask me any question in the galaxy right now, are you sure you want to waste it on that?”

“Yep. I want to know.” He shrugged, leaning back in his chair, sitting across the circle from you, painfully far away. This drunk, you wanted him next to you. Another drink and you’d be sprawled all over him, didn’t matter who was watching. “Why do you squirm every time someone calls you Princess?”

“Princess isn’t the worst. I don’t mind that one so much.” You said. “I don’t like the ‘your Highnesses.’ They just…maybe it’s stupid, I don’t know, but…everyone on base earned their titles. Everyone. Every general and admiral and captain and commander, all of ‘em. They all earned those fancy words and I did not. I was born a special person and got my titles handed to me on a silver platter. It feels like stolen valor. Even Leia’s a general now, and…yeah, that’s kind of it. Just feels icky sometimes.”

“You’ve earned them.” Finn said, eyes serious. “You’ve more than earned them.”

“You’re too kind, Finnley.” You replied, a hand on your heart.

“Finnley…” Finn chuckled to himself at the elongated name.

“No, he’s right. That first day I saw you in action, I knew you were the real deal.” Snap said, sounding impressed. Really, genuinely impressed. “All the stories started to make sense, the way you flipped through the air.”

“A Jedi of old…” Jessika agreed, Rey nodding along.

“And you wear those little crowns sometimes. Princesses usually wear those.” Aspen added, sitting beneath one of Chewbacca’s fur-covered arms, cuddled against his side.

You laughed at that one. “Valid point. I don’t know, I’m warming up to them. But you all can call me (Y/N), also. We’re friends.”

“Mom wanted to work titles out with you after the war.” Soren said. “She’s…well, she’s acting queen now, but technically–”

“Oh no I do not want to be queen.” You shut that down, holding up your hand. “That’s where the line is drawn. I was second-born. I was never supposed to be queen in the first place and then I died. Your mother earned that title. She’s been here, boots on the ground, helping the remaining Mariposans. She’s the queen and I’ll tell her that myself, Prince Soren.”

He grinned. “Why did I have a feeling you’d say something like that?”

“Because you know me so well, dearest nephew. Now, where were we…ah, yes, Rey, truth or dare?”

She smiled. “It’s going to have to be dare.”

The game continued until the group began to dwindle, retiring for bed one by one. Chewbacca put out the fire and the heaters were turned down slightly to conserve power overnight. If you guys blew a fuse, you were fucked. Heat was a commodity that could not be wasted on a planet like Hoth.

You walked back to the room before Poe did, tossing an extra blanket up to your top bunk. The beds here were smaller than your bunk back home. If you and Poe had a tight fit in the other bed, this would be near impossible. For that reason, you’d probably sleep separate.

You climbed up top, as you had done so many times, and sat up there, scrolling through your holo, making plans for the next day. It was a big one. X-Wing repair was the big ticket thing, unburying them from the snow that had drifted into the hangar. Everyone else would be working on packing up everything that wasn’t nailed down, and, well, some of the stuff that was nailed down.

The door slid open and Poe walked in, kicking off his boots while BB-8 rolled onto his charging mat. Finn peeked in after them.

“Goodnight, (Y/N)!”

“Night, Finn! See you tomorrow.” You said with a smile.

“Bright and early.” Poe added with a grin.

The door slid shut and he walked right over to the bunk bed, standing in front of you, expectant. Poe was not an overly tall individual, so his head cleared the top, but nothing else.

You raised an eyebrow. “Can I help you with something?”

“You want me up top or are you coming down here?”

“I don’t know if you’ve seen these beds with your eyes, but…they are pretty small, flyboy.”

“We’ve managed worse.” He grinned, resting his arms on the railing, looking up at you with those pretty brown eyes, eyelashes oh so dark and beautiful. “Won’t you get cold up there all by yourself?”

You laughed. “I think I’ll be okay.”

“Well in that case, goodnight. I’ll see you in the morning.” He leaned forward.

You took his face in your hands, kissing him deeply. He crooned at your touch, standing on his toes to chase your lips before finally pulling away and tucking into his mother’s bunk on the bottom.

***

About an hour later, the lack of heat really started to make itself evident. You weren’t sure what Rose had set it to for the night, but whatever it was had your toes freezing and teeth chattering.

Wordlessly, Poe got out of his bed, the fabric rustling in the bunk beneath you, and stood, his head clearing the top so you were nearly face to face. He waited expectantly for you to break the silence, to admit he was right.

“Alright, get in here.” You relented, lifting the covers.

He tossed his blanket up first and then climbed in after you, the tight quarters causing every piece of his body to be touching every part of yours. Talk about cozy. It made the X-Wing cockpit look like a five-star hotel room.

He laughed softly. “You were right. It is gonna be a tight fit.”

“And you were right about it being too cold.” You said, voice rasped with sleep.

“Here, let me…” He wiggled the two of you into a better position, him almost entirely beneath you, broad shoulders still boxed into the narrow bunk. He wrapped a warm arm around your waist, legs intertwined.

You adjusted the third blanket atop the two of you, wings tucked under, and then settled back on top of him, letting out a long, contented sigh at the warmth. “You comfortable?”

“Mmhmm.” He hummed, unable to stop smiling at you, oh so close to him. “Can you imagine if we really weren’t seeing each other and the others found us like this?”

“We’d never hear the end of it.” You laughed at the thought. “You guys, seriously, we were both just cold.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I really thought I could hold out. Not say anything until after the war was over. Find you in the crowd after whatever final battle, confess it all then and there. All romantic and heroic. And we’d kiss and the crowd would cheer and we’d fly in my X-Wing, off into the sunset with BB-8 in the back seat.”

You huffed a laugh. “Had it all planned out, huh?”

“This is better, though.” He admitted, thumb circling your hipbone.

“It’s a good thing I didn’t let you make the first move, like I was planning.” You said, tilting your head up to kiss the corner of his lips. “Saved us both a lot of pining and heartache.”

“To be fair, I was going to make a move during our little joyride that never happened.” Poe said. “I know it was kind of a joke, that it was a date, but it was real to me.”

“It was real to me, too.” You murmured, nose pressed against his cheek. “I could feel it coming. I knew you had feelings for me. But, of course, Kylo Ren has the worst timing in the galaxy.”

“Seriously. Fuck that guy.”

“Agreed.” Your fingers curled against his chest, his heartbeat steady and strong. You leaned up and pressed a soft, sleepy kiss to his lips, eyelids growing heavy, aided by the gentle lulling of his warmth. He was always warm. You had never been more grateful for it than now.

He smiled, skin moving beneath your lips. He rocked you gently, voice sleepy and playful. “You driftin’?”

“Mmm…” You nodded against him. “Getting there.”

“Good. Get some sleep, baby. Maker knows we’ll need it. Someone’s gotta use the Force to dig out those X-Wings tomorrow and it’s not gonna be me.”

Looking Forward, Looking Back

BB-8’s chirping alarm woke the two of you in the absence of sunlight. There were no windows in your room, being carved into a mountain and all. Your face was pressed into the crook of Poe’s neck, warmth encasing you, his dark curls tousled and fluffy.

He groaned softly, skin vibrating against yours. You kissed his cheek, long and gentle, a silent greeting. The groan melted into something else, then, as if he remembered you were perched there on top of him, like a wonky weighted blanket.

“Maker, what a way to wake up.” He murmured, nose brushing against yours on the way to your lips. “Can we do this every morning?”

“You’d have to break the news to Finn that you don’t want to be roommates anymore.” You reasoned, finding his hand and threading your fingers through his.

He hummed, thinking it over. “Well, you could come stay in our room.”

You laughed out loud. “Three is company. Might get a little too cozy in there.”

“Yeah…Well…we can negotiate.”

“Sure, I’ll let you pitch that one to him. And Bee can have my room all to himself.”

BB-8 chirped in approval, which made you laugh.

“How the hell are we going to get out of this bed?” Poe wondered, taking stock of the two of you, packed in like sardines.

“Carefully.” You giggled, trying to sit up. “Your specialty, flyboy.”

Poe used the railing to tug himself upright and you reached into his messy curls, gently combing them with your fingers into some sense of order. He grinned at you, eyes twinkling in the dim room, leaning forward and capturing your lips, like you were his first meal of the day.

Eventually, you pulled apart, peppering kisses across his cheeks. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Never could, but especially when you had moments alone like this.

“Poe.” You said, giggling as he reconnected his lips to yours, rhythm smooth and slow, but steady.

“What?”

“We’ve gotta go.” You murmured against him as the kisses continued.

“Mmhmm.” He nipped at your bottom lip, hand framing your cheek, keeping your face close to his. “Give me a minute. I’m busy.”

You laughed, hands resting on his chest as he deepened the kiss. Warmth tumbled from him onto you. Someday, you’d get a real vacation. A getaway. Once the galaxy was at peace again, and the First Order had been destroyed.

But now, you had work to do. A lot of it, before you could head back to base.

“Come on, hotshot. The sooner we get this done, the more time we can spend doing this in a bed that doesn’t completely box in those shoulders of yours.”

“Now that’s a good point.” He grinned, brushing the hair out of your eyes while pulling you in for one last kiss.

You flexed your wings as best you could in the limited space and flipped down over the railing, giving him room to get down.

You swapped out your layers, bundling up all over again. Undershirts, shirt, jacket, coat, plus your headwear, gloves tucked into your pockets. You laced up your boots and followed Poe out to the mess hall, where Chewbacca was serving leftovers from the day before for breakfast.

After, you, Soren, and Rey followed the pilots and mechs out to the hangar, assessing the damage. Wedge had been right. Four X-Wings. Unfortunately, the hangar doors had been left open, letting in thirty years of snow and ice.

First order of business, you did a sweep to make sure there weren’t any scavengers or creatures hiding out inside. Then you reached up, using the Force to pull the massive hangar door shut. The metal creaked and rumbled, dust falling from the mechanism as it lowered into place, enclosing the space in total darkness.

Rey reached for her saber, the blue lighting up the dark. Soren lit his after, and then you, Poe’s face awash in the pink hue, wonder in his eyes. Someone found the lightswitch and the overheads flickered a few times before kicking on. You powered down your saber and approached the nearest X-Wing, not nearly as buried as the ones closer to the opening.

“What’s your professional opinion, Commander?” You asked, arms crossed, looking it over. “Where do you want me to start?”

“Well, the wings would be a good spot, probably. The engines. We’re gonna have to pop her open to see if her parts still work.”

“Alright. Everybody stand back.” You advised, taking a few steps further from it yourself. You focused on the ice, using the Force to crack it into smaller pieces that could be pulled off of it. Then, you lifted the X-Wing into the air, straining to do so from the sheer weight of it alone. Rey joined, taking some of the pressure off, and you two set it atop the layer of snow on the ground, so they could get to it easier.

You all repeated this process for the following three X-Wings, getting them uncovered in record time. The pilots and mechs set to work, trying to see what all was in working order, what needed to be fixed or replaced. Wedge had given them the records he had from the olden days, but it was hard to tell what was still accurate.

In the meantime, you turned your attention to helping the demo crew scrap some of the internal walls and structures that were not lodebearing. Shelves, furniture, cabinets, that kind of thing.

Chewie led the crew, pointing things out, directing the rookies where they needed to be. Threepio translated for him as necessary and you used the Force to take some pieces down.

You fluttered higher, using your wings to help empty some of the higher shelves, taking them down one screw at a time.

Snap and Chewie went out into the snow to move the Transport closer. It would help, no doubt, as you all started to move things.

You and Rey went through the closets of each room to see if there were any stray blasters sitting around, uniforms that weren’t too outdated, even decent walking boots, taking anything that was useful and putting it in a wagon.

It was a productive day. At the end of it, you all had another dinner. It would be your last night there, if everything went to plan. The X-Wings seemed to be in working order. They’d run a brief test, and then take off first, escorting the transports to safety. There’d been one in the hangar as well, that some of the mechs had fixed up without too much trouble.

Weather seemed good for it, too. Any longer than that and you all risked getting stranded in a blizzard. Well, more of a blizzard than what was already raging outside those doors.

The evening was quiet. Everyone was tired from a long day of work. Carrying things, moving cargo, packing, and loading things until it was all ready to go. You sat on the floor in the mess hall, head leaned on Rey’s shoulder, Rose’s legs spread over yours.

You fiddled with the bracelet around your wrist, a small smile tugging at your lips when Poe made eye contact from across the room. His eyes wandered to the bracelet and he grinned, proud. He was sitting with Soren and Finn, talking about something with some of the other pilots.

Jessika came over and sat with you. In the corner of the room, Snap and Karé were talking, awfully close to each other. Touches lingering. Jess traced your gaze and said, “Oh, did you not know? Snap and Karé are married.”

“Huh? I did not know that. Wow.” You processed the information. It was like learning Wedge was Snap’s step-dad all over again. There was more to Snap then you thought, perhaps. Maybe a nice long conversation with him was in order. “They’re good together.”

Poe walked over, taking a seat beside you. He elbowed you lightly, smiling. You could tell he was starting to wind down, looking a little tired. “What are we talking about, ladies?”

“I just learned that Snap and Karé are married.”

“Oh! Yeah, yeah, they’re great together.” Poe grinned.

Jessika chuckled. “Yeah, they are. You ever…dated someone on base?”

“Yeah.” You admitted. “I’m no stranger to wartime romance.”

“She and Luke were…” Rey began to explain, letting Jessika fill in the blanks. “You know.”

“I did not know.” Jessika said, eyes wide. “Wow…that’s really…”

“Yeah, I know.” You shrugged. You felt Poe’s eyes on you, the way his chest began to burn. A twinge of jealousy hidden behind that famed Dameron smirk. “But, uh, I’m not completely closed off to dating this time around. I’m fifty-four, not eighty.”

“You look great for your age, Princess.” Poe complimented, eyes sparkling. He raised an eyebrow, voice dipping into mischief territory. “That mean I’ve got a shot?”

You laughed, heart racing at the look in his eye. “I dunno. Trigger-happy flyboys are not my usual type, but…never say never.”

“Keeping your options open?” Rose asked. “I know about twelve rookies who would die for the chance.”

“Oh I know. Been fighting them off with this saber of mine.” You chuckled. “They’re determined, I’ll give ‘em, that, but…”

“She’s already got a crush on someone.” Poe said, forcing his tone to be casual. “Doesn’t want to hurt their feelings.”

“We’ll go with that, yeah.” You agreed, letting out a yawn that Poe mirrored not long after.

The two of you decided to head to bed, exhausted. You bid the others goodbye and led him down the winding hallways, back to your shared room. The door opened with a whir and you stepped inside, BB-8 rolling into his corner.

Poe turned you to face him, hand tilting your face up towards his and kissing you, slowly. Sensually. Every movement was deliberate and careful. His tongue swiped at the edge of your lip, the other hand tugging your waist impossibly close, chest flush to his.

“Trigger-happy flyboy, eh?” He asked between kisses, teeth nipping at your lip as your arms latched around him, fingers toying with the curls at the base of his neck.

“Yeah. Might even have a crush on him.” You murmured, echoing his words.

“You drive me crazy.” Poe rasped, movements picking up speed, momentum, like an X-Wing headed towards a crash. Inevitable.

You smiled against him, meeting his gaze with starlit eyes. “I know.”

“Go to sleep, Bee. I don’t want you to see this.” He said, a rasp at the edge of his voice, sending a shot of electricity straight through you.

You heard BB-8 power down for the night. Poe wasted no time hooking your knees with his strong hands, tugging your legs up onto his hips and carrying you to the top bunk. You tore your boots off, chucking them across the room with a noisy thud as he climbed up the ladder, throwing his shoes off after. He pulled you on top of him, as you had been the night before, but this time, his hands were everywhere, lips exploring yours. He tugged your knee higher, moaning into your mouth as you played with his hair, giving his thick curls a gentle tug.

He kissed you eagerly, like he’d been waiting for it all day. You knew that was the case. You slotted a leg between his, leaning on his chest. Your other hand stayed anchored to his jaw, thumb brushing through the scruff on his cheek, a little longer than he usually let it get. It suited him, though. All of it did.

You let yourself imagine him a little older. Some gray in his hair, in his beard. Curls a little longer. Maybe he’d need reading glasses. You smiled at the thought, kissing him again, deeper, cherishing the little chuckle he let out when you did.

It sank in then that you wanted to grow old with him, and you were struck by the thought, movements slowing.

Life after the war was already a fantasy to you, but you never let yourself see the life you wanted. Those years of peace after. You’d had two of them, only to have it all ripped away from you, to be frozen at twenty-four for thirty years. But this time, you knew it was different. This time, you would get to stay.

So you let your mind wander. Guided by the Force or your own desires, you weren’t sure. But you saw him there, in casual wear, a few more years on that handsome face. A wedding ring on his finger. Lines that crinkled around those warm eyes. He laughed at something, the sound like music to you. You loved it. Loved him.

Poe could feel it when you slipped. Always could. That lull that hit you when you were zoned in, or zoned out rather. He held you, kisses slowing to a stop, watching, waiting for you to come back to him, for the Force to set you back in his arms.

It was strange, loving a Jedi. But he loved every second. Loved you.

“You’re having some big thoughts tonight.” He finally murmured, voice impossibly soft, like said thoughts were made of glass. You were back now, thumb stroking his cheek again. Breaths back to their regular cadence.

“Yeah.” Your voice broke, tears welling in your eyes.

His eyebrows furrowed. “Oh, hey, it’s okay. What’s goin’ on in that pretty head?”

“Nothing.” You chuckled, shaking your head. “I just…I…”

“You don’t have to tell me.” He handed you a boundary if you so wanted it.

“I just saw…you. After the war. Older and happy. And it just…got to me, I guess.” You admitted, a tear slipping down your cheek.

“A vision?”

“I hope so.” You shrugged, hand resting on his chest, smoothing out the fabric of his undershirt. Back home, he didn’t wear one to sleep, usually. On Hoth, the extra layer was necessary.

He wiped at your tears with his gentle thumbs, pulling you in for a long kiss. “I want that, too. But only if you’re there with me. A little gray in this pretty hair of yours. Not as much as me, of course. I am eight whole years older than you.”

You laughed through tears, surging forward to kiss him again.

“You want kids? We’ve never talked about it.” He asked, playing with your hair with one hand, the other brushing down the length of your wing. You rested your head on his chest, ear pressed to his heart.

“I do. Some little Jedi. One little pilot.”

He kissed your forehead, lips curled into a smile. “They’ll get my curls and your eyes. Big, beautiful wings like their mother.”

“I hope so.” You smiled, staring at him, eyes memorizing his face, just like this. You nuzzled your nose against his, melting against his lips. “I want it, Poe. So bad. I want to…get to live my life this time.”

“You will.” He promised, eyes serious, twinkling like stars. He took your hand and kissed each of your knuckles, lingering just a little longer on the ring finger, where someday, he’d slide his mother’s ring.

***

The next morning, last checks were performed. Threepio went over inventory, and Chewbacca did a final sweep, making sure everything and everyone was accounted for before you all started loading up into the transports and the four repaired X-Wings.

Poe walked over to you, both of you bundled up, though him less than you. You were headed to the same place, would be in ships side by side, but it was still a loaded goodbye building between the two of you, especially after the conversation you’d had the night before.

“You good to go, Commander?”

“All set, your Highness.” He replied, voice cradling the word so carefully. You didn’t mind it so much when he said it. “See you on the other side.”

You took a step closer. “See you at home.”

His face broke out into that flyboy grin, like he’d just won the lottery.

You walked through the base with the others who would be taking the transport out front, the one you’d arrived in. But before you got onto the ramp, you saw them. First Order soldiers on the ground, a shrouded figure leading them.

Your instinct said Kylo, but your heart knew it wasn’t.

TIE fighters flew overhead.

“Poe, we’ve got First Order fighters in the air. Troops on the ground.” Finn said into his earpiece.

You stared ahead as they approached, reaching for your saber, Soren beside you. Neither of you had coated your wings. Hadn’t expected to be outside for longer than a minute. There was no time to do it now.

You launched yourself forward, igniting your saber mid-air as giant snowflakes fell. Stormtrooper fire resounded, beams of red bouncing towards the handful of Resistance members there. You used your saber to take out as many as you could before confronting the man in the hood.

It wasn’t Kylo Ren. He was wearing a mask, but it was different. He raised a hand, trying to disarm your saber and failing.

“After all these years, I was hoping you’d died in that pod, dear princess.” The voice that came out of him said. Muffled, distorted like Kylo’s, but not Kylo.

“You’re gonna wish I did.” You breathed, giving your saber a twirl.

He unveiled his own, a dual bladed red saber, the blade unstable like Kylo’s, but familiar to you. You knew this saber. This saber knew you.

A chill ran up your spine and you launched into attack, deflecting hits from both ends of the staff-like weapon. Soren joined you, his movements careful. Scared. This was his first fight with anyone who intended to harm him.

The X-Wings cruised around the mountain, taking out a handful of TIEs in their sweep through the air. The second transport came around as well, Rey emerging from within, saber at the ready.

The hooded man took note of Soren’s posture, his nervous energy, and targeted him instead, leaving you the task of not only fighting whoever this was, but protecting your nephew. You used the Force to push Soren back, just out of the range of the glowing red saber, a swipe that would have taken his life.

The edge of the blade sliced your upper arm. You tried to flex your wings, to use them as landing gear as you had so many times, but the cold had rendered them nearly useless, hanging down prone, getting number by the second. But the numbness was giving way to prickling pain. You weren’t sure which was worse.

You yelled out, grasping at the smoking wound, the saber’s heat cauterizing the blood.

“(Y/N)!” Rey yelled out.

You stood, bracing yourself on a snowbank, fire in your eyes despite the raging blizzard.

The man went for Soren again, but this time you put yourself between the two, your saber sparking against the aggressive red of his.

“Lord Mothim, we’re taking heavy losses!” One of the Stormtroopers relayed, giving him pause, but not halting his attack.

Lord Mothim. The one Kylo had mentioned on the one occasion you’d met him.

“We will fight until they are dead. No surrender.” He said, countering a move, twirling the saber with grace.

He lunged at your nephew, but you reached forward, using the Force to pull back his cape, throwing him off balance and revealing what you already knew. This Mothim was Maddox. You would recognize your brother’s wings anywhere. Orange with a tinge of red at the ends. Fitting colors for a Sith.

You threw your saber, calling it back to you, straight through the exposed wings, slicing them off and watching as they fluttered to the ground. The cruelest thing you could do to a Mariposan. The thing that the very saber in his hand had done to your own, you realized, finally putting the pieces together. The saber was made of Insidia’s blades, merged together.

He let out a cry, collapsing to his knees, the shockwave of Force energy knocking everyone, including yourself, back in a wave. You soared through the air, unable to control your momentum.

The back of your head hit against a snow-covered pine and everything went blurry.

You watched, nearly out of body, as the First Order retreated, a pair of Stormtroopers grabbing Mothim and leaving. Soren ran over to where you were laying, fear flashing over his features.

“Aunt (Y/N)? Are you okay?”

“Mmhmm.” You gave a thumbs-up, pushing yourself upright. The last First Order transport pulled out of orbit. The X-Wings shot, but it was already gone.

Rey ran over, giving you her arm and pulling you to your feet. “Who was that?”

“My brother.” You exhaled, breaths ragged. “Maddox. Lando was right.”

You stared at the pieces of his wings you’d severed off, being steadily buried by the snow. Your stomach sank with the weight of what you’d done. Exploited his greatest weakness, hurt him in the way that had ended your life all those years ago. Yet, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to feel bad about it.

The X-Wings swooped in for a landing and Poe sprinted across the field, nearly tripping over his own feet on his way to get to you. His gloved hand reached out, stopping short of the blackened, burned slash through your jacket, across your arm.

“You okay? We alright? What’s the move?” He asked, counting heads while reaching out for your hand.

You gave it to him, squeezing his.

“We need to get back before the weather gets worse.” You said, laser-focused on getting off the planet. “Get everyone back in the transports and get the hell out of here.”

Finn nodded, turning to start corralling people back into the transports. You started walking towards one with the others, but Poe didn’t let go of your hand, eyes meeting yours, his energy…fraught.

“I’m going with Poe.” You told Rey, not even stopping to think about the logistics of it, how it would look to the others. You didn’t care. That look on his face…whatever was going on in his head, he needed you.

She nodded, not fighting you on the matter. Poe climbed up into his X-Wing, helping you in behind him. It was a smaller cockpit than the newer models, but the controls looked nearly the same. To you, anyway, from what you could remember about your one other time inside one.

He pulled a lever and the hatch closed, sealing with a hiss and a click.

“Bee, blast the heat.” He instructed, pulling the goggles off of your head, smoothing your hair back, his touch quick and clinical. He stared at the scorched mark on your jacket. “Can you…?”

“Yeah.” You unzipped it, tugging it down your shoulders, exposing the wound. You hissed as the fabric rubbed against it, still red and agitated and hot hot hot.

“Hey, hey, you okay?” He asked, tucking your jacket into a small cargo cabinet near his feet.

“Think so.” You nodded, shedding another layer, and then rolling up the sleeve, exposing the burn. “Yeah, he definitely got me.”

“Here.” Poe pulled a bacta patch out of a small first aid kit, carefully laying it over the wound.

A cooling sensation spread from the spot, the relief instant. You leaned back against him, head resting on his shoulder as you let out a long breath. “Thanks.”

“Mmhmm.” He hummed, flipping a few switches. His arms wrapped around your waist and he pressed his face into your neck, letting out a long, warm breath against your skin. “You had me so worried, baby.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“I know.” He nodded, curls tickling you with the movement. He pressed a long kiss there, then another, arms tightening as he inhaled your scent like it was oxygen. Eventually, he lifted his head, nose rubbing against yours as your face turned towards him.

You kissed him, lips soft, tender. You could tell his mind was elsewhere.

“Your wings…are they okay? You were out there for so long…”

“They’re okay.” You raised one to demonstrate. Its movements were still a little stilted, but they would be okay. You held his face in your hand, firm, forcing him to look at you. “I’m okay, Poe. Promise. I’m not made of glass. We have to get off this planet before we get stuck here, alright? The snow’s gonna get worse.”

“Okay.” He nodded, closing his eyes and inhaling a long breath. “Okay, yeah, alright.” He pressed a quick kiss to your lips and then pulled his helmet on, putting a wall between the two of you. “Yep, just adjusting the co-pilot in here. Wheels up, fellas. Let’s get outta here.”

The X-Wings lifted off, escorting the transports out of the atmosphere and into hyperdrive.

BB-8 took the wheel for the most part. Poe was quiet, an arm around your waist, the other on the control rod. Your back was completely flush against his chest, wings tucked under, still prickling as the feeling came back, little by little.

And it was so…quiet. He was so quiet.

“You alright, Commander?”

“Gettin’ there.” He replied, arm tightening around you. He pressed an awkward kiss to your neck, as best as he could under the helmet.

You laughed softly at the awkward position.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized suddenly, voice sounding heavy.

“Sorry? Why are you sorry?” You asked, turning to look at him, attempting to meet his eyes through the glass of his helmet visor.

He pressed a button on the dash, muting himself so the other pilots couldn’t hear. “I just…sometimes it’s so easy to forget that you’re…I mean…you’ve done this before. You’ve been through so much. But I see you out there in the field, face to face with a kriffing Sith, and it all just melts away. (Y/N)...I know you can handle yourself, but I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”

The words sat there in the open for a few moments that felt like minutes. You let out a breath, turning to look at him for a long moment, his eyes locked out the windshield.

“You’re a Jedi. You’re…you’re a legend, Princess. I know that, but…”

“Everyone treats me like I’m invincible.” You confessed. “Everyone. Even after my accident. It’s…nice to have someone worry about me. I just don’t want to be a liability to you. I need you to be safe too, Poe.”

He nodded, determination brewing behind those warm eyes of his. “We’ll just have to look out for each other, then.”

“Til the end of this war, and every day after.” You promised, turning your head at an odd angle to kiss the stubble on his cheek.

He chuckled a little. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get you up here sooner, baby.”

“Hey, at least we finally got our joyride.” You chuckled. “Our date.”

Poe pressed another kiss to your neck, the plasteel of his helmet brushing against the side of your face, drawing another laugh out of you. “I’ll pick a more romantic spot for the next one.”

The Illusion of Safety

After the Hoth debrief, the cantina was packed. Everyone wanted to hear about it. About the new Sith lord and how you’d sliced his wings clean off, the sheer cold of the planet. The rookies talked about nearly freezing their toes off.

You nursed a cup of Jet Juice, feeling tired, but relieved it was over. Relieved everyone was home safe with new X-Wings, new building materials, blasters, boots and uniforms. In the meantime, there had been some food deliveries as well, and Laesynda told you your garden was beginning to sprout.

Things were looking up, in other words.

The crew was caught in another game of Never Have I Ever, with updated experiences and ideas to throw at each other. Snap met your eyes, Poe seated beside you, his hand on your thigh under the table, impossibly warm, even through the fabric of your trousers.

“Never have I ever kissed a pilot.” Rose said.

You cursed under your breath, along with a handful of other people. Snap and Karé namely. You took a sip of Jet Juice, watching the wicked gleam in Poe’s eyes, the smirk that pulled at his lips.

Snap was next. He knew as well as you did that Luke Skywalker was known for his flying abilities, among many other things, of course. But just to be extra sure, he locked eyes with Poe, raising an eyebrow as he said, “Never have I ever kissed a Jedi.”

You took your sip, for Luke.

Poe’s tongue curled briefly over his lip, meeting your eyes for a moment, asking permission.

You flicked your eyes from his down to his cup and back. “What are you waiting for, Dameron? Take your sip.”

“I mean, it’s more like a hundred sips at this point, but…” Poe grinned into his cup.

Rey’s mouth fell open, everyone watching with bated breath as he chugged the rest of it. The table erupted in cheers.

“I knew it!” Finn exclaimed, pointing. “I knew it!”

Poe shook his head, all smiles. “No you did not!”

“How long?” Snap asked. “I’ve got a couple bets I need to cash in on.”

“The gala.” Poe admitted, the arm that had been resting on your thigh coming up around your waist instead.

“Really? Only since then?” Snap asked. “Maker, I thought it was longer than that, even. Saw you in the hangar one afternoon, kissing her hand.”

“Oh, that was step one of my grand plan.” Poe grinned, flyboy confidence plastered on his handsome face. “We then completely rerouted from said plan, but it worked out.”

You laughed, leaning against his shoulder. “He’s good at improvising.”

Finn deadpanned. “The morning after the gala. When you…?”

“Did the walk of shame? Yeah, sure did.” Poe admitted, earning laughs from the rest of the group. He leaned closer, breath sharp with the smell of alcohol, laced with whatever juice had been laying around the kitchens when the mechs whipped it all together. His nose brushed against your skin, lips aimed for your cheek, but you turned your head, kissing him full on the lips, heart racing at the way his mouth curled into a smile, proud.

The group cheered, offering their congratulations, saying how happy they were for you. You were happy, too. It was serious. Had been since your conversation on Hoth, but long before that, too. Poe was holding your heart in both of his warm, calloused hands. He knew that. And now they all did, too.

Tomorrow, you two would be the talk of the Resistance, the gossip of the day. But tonight, you were surrounded by your friends, laughter and warmth. Your family.

Poe pinched your side, arms curling around your waist. He pressed a long kiss to your cheek and then remembered the game. “Right, my turn. Uhhh, never have I ever been in a pod race.”

***

That night, you dreamt of a void. Empty and dark. Endless. A red saber ignited and then he was standing there. Mothim. Your brother.

He took off the mask, a wrinkled face beneath, eyes golden and gleaming in the shadows. A pair of jagged wings trailed behind him, their edges singed, glowing like embers. “You thought you could hide from me, you insolent girl.”

“Wasn’t hiding, actually. I was sleeping. Sorry if that’s confusing.” You retorted, voice echoing into the distance. “Maybe you’re losing it in your old age, Mads.”

“QUIET!!!” His voice echoed, pounding in your ears. You recoiled. “I’m in your head now, you insolent girl. You cannot escape me. You and that pilot of yours are done for. It’s only a matter of time before I find you and snuff out your precious little Resistance, like I should have so long ago.”

“You can’t. The fire’s been lit. You’re on borrowed time.”

He laughed, the sound spine-chilling.

He was suddenly right in front of you, long, clawed fingers grasping your chin and squeezing. Hard. You tried to run away, but you were frozen. You couldn’t move.

“It’s ironic, really. That you would say that.” He hissed, words sharp as blades. “You gave your life to kill Insidia, to stop her, but your sacrifice was in vain. You’ll see that soon.”

He lit the other end of the saber, its light piercing right through your chest, the pain real and burning.

You jolted awake, eyes shooting open. Your heart raced as you stared at the empty room, curtains blowing slightly in the breeze. You could hear the leaves rustling gently outside. You took some deep breaths.

Poe’s arm was curled tight around your waist, knees tucked up into yours, his nose pressed to the back of your neck. He felt you wake, humming softly and kissing behind your ear. “You alright?”

“Nightmare.” You said, voice shaking. 

You couldn’t get Maddox’s words out of your ears. He had threatened Poe. Maybe he knew somehow. Maybe he really was in your head. He had to be mad after you’d sliced his wings off. Seething. It was the worst pain a Mariposan could experience. Thousands of nerve endings severed all at once, white-hot. You knew that firsthand.

Maybe you should have saved a blow like that for a better moment.

“Mmm.” His voice rumbled against you, the vibrations comforting. His lips pressed against your neck, soft and gentle in the dark. “Mothim?”

“He…He said some stuff. About Insidia…” You confessed, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I…It’s…He threatened you.”

“We can tell Leia in the morning, starlight.” He said, brushing your hair back out of your face. “It’s alright.”

You nodded, but Poe could tell you weren’t convinced. He turned you over, pressing his nose to yours, eyes searching your tearstained face.

“Come here.” He pulled you into his arms, a hand skimming over your wing, the other cradling your head. “We’re fine, baby. We both are, alright? He’s not gonna touch me and if he sets foot near you again, I’ll kill him myself. All I need is a clean shot.”

You smiled softly, heart warming at the fire in his chest, in his eyes. Your Poe was a fighter. You didn’t know how likely that scenario was, but you knew he meant every word. He’d do anything to protect you, fight anyone, no matter the odds.

“You mean that, don’t you?”

“‘Course I do. I’d fight the fucking stars for you.” He pressed his lips to yours, soft and slow. “Let’s go back to sleep, alright? We both need it.”

You nodded, curling into him, leg hooking over his. You tucked your face into his shoulder, inhaling his scent, that warm mix of sandalwood and leather and his rain-scented soap. You felt so safe in his arms, like nothing and no one could touch you. You knew that wasn’t true, but it felt like it was. Like as long as the two of you were together, you’d be fine, that he could stop anyone from the cockpit of that X-Wing, neutralize any threat with only his blaster, before you could even so much as power up your saber.

You held onto that thought as you drifted off again, the illusion of safety. You and Poe, riding in his X-Wing off into the sunset, BB-8 buckled into the back seat.

The Weight of the Galaxy

You found Leia after breakfast, walked straight into her office and sat with her, told her about your nightmare.

“It might have…just been a dream.” You concluded, after giving her the details. What Maddox had said. His threat that Insidia’s plan had succeeded. That your sacrifice meant nothing.

“Did it feel like just a dream?”

“No.” You admitted, arms wrapped around yourself. “It felt…real. Or, like there was some truth to it, at the very least. I’ve dreamt about Insidia loads of times, but…never Maddox.”

Leia nodded and you could feel her, reaching with the Force. She had that look in her eye, like she was a million planets away, but right next to you. The frown that tugged at her lips gave you all the answer you needed. You’d been right. Something big was coming. Something bad.

“We need to…up the Jedi training regimen. A lot. I need all three of you ready.”

“Four.” You said. “But we’ll need a saber for Finn. I think he’s ready for it.”

“I can get one.” Leia nodded. “It’ll take some time.”

“I’ll get them as ready as I can in the meantime.” You promised.

You walked out of her office and out into the camp, feeling sick. Something in you fluttered, and not in a good way. Rey walked up to you, touching your arm, shaking you from the funk. Soren was with her, both of them waiting for the news.

“What did she say?”

“We’re on for training. As much as possible.” You said, letting out a shaking breath. “Leia’s intuition has always been…better than mine. If she thinks there was some truth to…what I saw…”

“Then we’ll just have to get ready for it. Whatever it is.”

Your stomach sank, thinking about it. “More like who.”

***

So you trained. All three of you and Finn. Soren and Rey sparred together nonstop, running agility courses, using a training remote, learning to deflect blasts faster. Faster. Faster yet.

You worked with Finn, handing him your saber, a trusting look in your eye.

“Oh, I couldn’t.” He shook his head.

“It’s just a loan, Finn. We’re still figuring out where to find you one. In the meantime, I need you to get comfortable with the weight of it, the movement. They’re a little different than the training rods you’ve been working with.”

He nodded, testing the weight of it in his hand. You set him on the training course, flitting from tree to tree, watching his progress from a safe distance, trying to stay out of his line of sight as much as possible. You spotted Poe, down at base, eyes tracking you while he stood with Leia and Chewbacca, flicking back down to the conversation every few moments. You ran through the branches, wings carrying you.

The blade of the saber caught on a thin tree and you used the Force to lower it to the ground, gently, out of Finn’s way. He was…hesitant, like Soren had been, but he had the raw talent. He moved like Luke, you reminisced, every move thought through, intentional.

You landed at the end of the course as he powered down the saber. He waited for your evaluation, shoulders stiff. It was moments like this when you were reminded of his upbringing. Didn’t come out often anymore, but when faced with people he saw as authority, it did tend to peek out from those kind eyes. The fear of correction. Of the punishment that followed.

You put a hand on his arm, dispelling the tension that bloomed in his chest. “That was great, Finn. You’re doing great.”

“I missed a few.”

“You’re using a borrowed saber. They’re not always easy to use when they’re not bonded to you. We’ll get you one of your own soon. Besides. I lied. That wasn’t the novice course, it was apprentice level. The work you’ve been doing, even with a stick, it all counts. You’re one of us, Finn.” You told him, hand curling around your saber as he handed it back to you. “I’m not your Jedi Master, I’m your friend. I’m here to offer advice and guidance. What you do with it is up to you. We’re all in this together.”

He smiled at that, nodding. “I like that.”

“I thought you would.”

“How’d it go?” Rey asked, walking over with Soren.

Finn let out a breath, tension rolling out of his shoulders, replaced instead with confidence, with strength from the Force. “We’re getting there.”

***

A week passed. Then two. Nonstop training. Meditating in the morning, breakfast, a trip through the training course, lunch, more meditation and some lightsaber sparring, dinner. After, you’d hit the books, curling up with Luke’s notes, with your own, studying every word like there was something you were missing. There had to be something you were missing.

Poe watched, your spark kindling a fire in his chest, but an ache in his heart. He’d never seen you so stressed. So driven. Like you were carrying the weight of the galaxy with those wings of yours. In some ways, you were.

“Baby…” He murmured, pressing a kiss to your neck, hands following the curve of your waist.

You were hunched over a book, sitting in the lounge. You curled into his touch, his warmth, crooning. “Mmm?”

“It’s late. Come to bed.”

“I’m fine.” You insisted. “I got thirty years of sleep, remember? I think it evens out if I cash in on some of that now.”

He exhaled, shaking his head. “You sound like me.”

“Ironic, isn’t it?” You chuckled, flipping the page.

“Alright, well, you give me no choice.” He said, closing the book with a firm hand, your eyes widening up at him. “Come on. Sleep time.”

“Poe.”

“I will carry you.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” You asked, a bit of a bite to your words.

“Both. Come on.” He pulled you by your hands, up from the table, and hoisted you right over his shoulder.

“Hey! I feel like there are more graceful ways to be handling a princess, you know.” You protested, kicking your legs.

“Yeah, but none of them give me the chance to do this.” He gave your ass a not-so-gentle pat.

You gasped, thanking the Maker that the hallway was completely empty, otherwise, the whole crew would be talking about you and him for new reasons, since the initial buzz of your relationship coming to light had finally dwindled. “Poe Dameron!”

“Scold me later, Princess, you know you need it.” He said, setting you upright in front of the door to your quarters. He rested his hands on his hips, looking you over.

His tired, overworked little Jedi Princess. Your wings were drooping more than usual. You kept them folded away typically, for practical reasons, but they looked more like fabric than tissue at this point. He frowned.

“Why the long face, flyboy?”

“I just don’t like seeing you like this.” He admitted, reaching out for your hand. He fiddled with your fingers. “You need sleep. You need to be drinking more water. Mariposans need it to perk up their wings. Look at ‘em, starlight, I’ve never seen them so droopy.”

“Yeah, I’ve been…distracted, I guess.” You relented, nodding. “I’ll drink some before bed.”

“Oh I know you will. I’m staying.” He said, pushing past you into the room. He pulled you inside, closing the door with a press of the panel. He plucked your drinking glass from your desk, rinsing it out in your bathroom sink before bringing it back with clean water and pressing it into your hand. “Drink.”

“Yes, Commander.” You replied, tipping it back and taking several long sips. He was right. You’d needed it.

He took your face in his hand, fingers gentle, but firm. He wiped a droplet of water from the corner of your lip with his thumb. “Good girl.”

You’d be lying if you said that didn’t do something to you. And you would have done something to him, if it wasn’t so late, if the initial point of his little wellness check hadn’t been sleep, or, more accurately, your lack thereof.

You brushed your teeth, put some lotion on your wings, aided by his careful touch, and then you both climbed into bed. You rested your head on his chest, listening to his heart beat, steady and strong. He played with your hair, pressing kisses to your forehead.

“Thank you.” You finally said, voice quiet.

His lips curled into a smile against your hairline. “What kind of a boyfriend would I be if I didn’t gently bully you into taking care of yourself?”

You chuckled. “Probably not a very good one.”

“Mmhmm.” He hummed. “Now, do me a favor and close those pretty eyes of yours. I’m thinking at least seven hours. Maybe eight if we’re lucky.”

You leaned up and pressed your lips to his, movements slow, loving. “Won’t Leia…”

“She and I both know we need you at your best. All of us, really, but…especially you.” Poe kissed you, gazing at you through those thick dark, thick eyelashes. He pulled you back down, kissing your temple, a hand grazing your wing, which was starting to flex to its former shape again.

You let out a long breath, his touches lulling you with expert precision. You mumbled into the crook of his neck, eyelids growing heavy at his warmth. “This is not fair.”

“There it is. Sleep, baby. I’ll see you in the morning.” Poe reassured, voice soft.

He listened as your breaths slowed, felt as you slipped off to sleep, the tension leaving your face, your body, your wings.

And then, once he was absolutely sure you were asleep, he pressed a final kiss to your forehead and whispered, “I love you.”

***

Sometimes, when Poe woke up before you, if whatever position the two of you awoke in allowed, he’d slip his mother’s ring onto your finger, just to see. Even with it still on the chain, it did something to him, the way it looked on your hand, that braided leather bracelet on your wrist, the one that meant that you were his.

It looked right. Felt right.

He felt you stir, so he pulled it off, gently, kissing each of your eyelids as you blinked awake. Refreshed and well-rested for the first time in weeks.

Poe wasn’t Force Sensitive, but he could tell there was something big coming. You all could. It made him cherish these little moments between you even more.

Leia got word from a scout named Boolio. There was some info he had on a hard drive, a potential spy in the First Order. Someone would have to rendezvous, download the files in person. Poe put himself forward. Finn, too. Chewbacca.

Poe tried to get at least one of the other Jedi to come along, but the three of you were staying behind to train.

“More training. Figures. I should have known you’d say that.” Poe said, deflated.

Your resolve softened. “Poe.”

“No, it’s fine, I get it, it’s just…”

You took a step closer, taking his hand, the other smoothing out the fabric of his button-up shirt, the one he claimed made him look like a sexy space pirate. He wasn’t wrong about that. “If you need me, I’m there.”

He thought about it, meeting your eyes. He knew you meant it. You always did. He shook his head, relenting, and pressed a long kiss to the back of your hand, stubble tickling against your skin. “They need you here. Finn and I will be alright. I just feel…better with you on board. Call me superstitious, or…”

“Sentimental?” You smiled softly, tucking a stray curl behind his ear. “May the Force be with you, Commander.”

He touched the Mariposan healer’s pendant, still hanging around his neck from its leather cord, right beside his mother’s ring. “It always is.”

You watched the Falcon take off, unrest taking root in your heart. You didn’t know exactly why, but you knew this was the mission that would change everything. That once the boys got back, everything would be different.

You let out a long breath, watching the ship until it shrank away into the sky, zapped away at lightspeed. There was no going back now.

Tags: @cap-lu20