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the feminine urge to write a modern coffee shop/college au for rey

CUTEEEEEE

this fic feels so cozy and so perfect to read during fall which it is and i will def be reading it over and over

Library Cards and Tree Drawings

Pairing: modern!single dad!Poe x teacher!reader(f)

Warnings: none, maybe cursing? a really shitty plot. also children, if that’s not your thing

Word count: 3.7k

Author’s note: I’m going to be honest, I’m not really sure what this is, but it somehow ended up in my mind and wouldn’t leave until I wrote this. This is the first substantial thing I’ve written in months, so here you go. Also, I feel like we’ve all just decided that when Poe has a daughter her name will be Bey, so that’s happening. So, here you go, and sorry if this is super fucking weird

“Hey, Bey!” You called out to the 7 year old as she entered your classroom. As a second grade teacher, you really shouldn’t have favorites, but you definitely have a soft spot for Bey Dameron. She was the sweetest little girl, who always used her manners, she was attentive and you could tell she loved learning. She was a natural born leader, and not in the bullshit way elementary school teachers say when they really mean bossy, the other kids in her class just seemed to listen to her. She was extremely well behaved, for a 7 year old, and in your short span of teaching, you would have to honestly say she was your favorite student. Not that you would ever say that, though.

“I have something for you,” you continue, and with this fact revealed, Bey all but throws her backpack on her little desk to practically run over to you. You pull out some books from your bag, and hold them out to her.

“I got these from the library yesterday, and thought you might like them.” She was always asking if you had more books for her to read, and since you didn’t feel like buying them, you often would just borrow them from the public library.

“Thank you! Only, I don’t really like outer space anymore.”

“You don’t?” You should have seen this coming. About once a month, Bey’s topic of interest changes. Before, it was sharks, and then it was outer space. And now, apparently, it was something new all together.

“Nope.”

“Then what do you like?”

“Airplanes. Just like my daddy.” She added that last part on with a large grin, so big you could see her missing teeth from where she’d pulled them out when they got too wiggly for her to like.

“Alright, next time I go, I’ll try to look for books about airplanes, how about that?” She nodded eagerly, and you held the books up before asking, “You still want these?” This was met with another eager nod, and you handed them to her before shooing her off towards her own desk, so class could begin.

——

You always had a soft spot for Bey Dameron. This had nothing to do with the fact that her extremely attractive dad was single, which is what the other teachers all said was your motive for being so nice to the kid. Hell, you were nice to all your kids, but between the books and the way she liked to come to school early to spend time with you, made it seem like you had ulterior motives. Which you absolutely did not. You’d really only met her father twice, once at the first day of school and once when she was getting picked up early. But, as fate would have it, you were about to see him again.

“Bey, do you have your project?” At the simple question, the girl’s dark eyes were going wide with fear. “No…” she trailed off as she sat down at her desk.

“It’s ok, do you want to call your dad to bring it in? Jackson has to go down to the office to call his grandma to bring it, so you could go together.” At this information, the girl was nodding furiously and sprang out of her desk, before rushing out of the classroom, the other student trailing behind her.

They returned a few minutes later, with the promises that they’re projects would be brought to them. When you got the call from the front office a few minutes later, that someone dropped off a project, you had another teacher watch your class while you took the two kids to the office. It ended up being Jackson’s grandma, so you walked him back to your classroom, poster board in tow, while one of the secretaries sat with Bey as she waited for her dad.

That’s who you assumed was crouching next to her when you returned, furiously apologizing to his daughter.

“I’m so sorry, Bey, I should have reminded you, I knew we were forgetting something-“

“Can I just take it and go?” She wasn’t mad, but that kid has priorities, and right now it was showing off her poster board on Mercury. Poe laughed, before handing the poster over to his daughter, who then turned to you, a triumphant smile on her face and her poster held out in front of her.

“See! I told you it was cool!”

Bey had been talking your ear off before class every morning this week, all about her poster. She was very proud of it, and she had done it all by herself. And, for a second grader’s project, it was pretty high quality.

“I’m sorry for all the trouble, I forgot to send an email out last night.” This was a lie, but it was clear that Bey’s dad was beating himself up over this, and you didn’t want to make him feel worse.

“No, no, I’m sorry, I completely spaced it this morning. Sorry for taking up class time.”

“It’s really not a problem.” This time you were telling the truth.

“Bye dad!” Bey decided she had enough of this conversation, and was ready to go back to class. He laughed again, before softly ruffling her hair and saying goodbye and leaving. He gave you a wave goodbye, which you returned with a smile. He really was quite attractive, but you didn’t have any time to dwell on that before Bey was turning to go back to class.

——

Parent-teacher conferences were one of your least favorite things about being a teacher. As a second grade teacher, you had hoped you’d get out of the optional conferences, but it turns out practically all of the parents wanted to talk to you about their kids. It was always the same things, parents worried their kids were falling behind and then you reassuring them that their kids were perfectly fine. You were proud that all the kids were doing well, but it made the whole ordeal rather boring.

You only had one more parent to meet with, and then you’d be able to finally go home. Poe Dameron. You expected it to be a quick conference, because of how smart, attentive, and well behaved Bey was. Although, you wouldn’t mind this particular conference lasting a little longer, if only so you could look at Poe for longer without it being strange or unprofessional.

“I don’t have any concerns with Bey. She’s always well behaved and ready to learn, she completes assignments on time, and she participates in class.” Poe seemed relieved at this, as if he actually thought his daughter was anything less than extraordinary.

“That’s good to hear.”

You smiled, and then added, “If you have any questions about class work or her behavior, I’d be happy to answer them.”

“I don’t have any concerns if you don’t.”

That almost disappointed you. You wished there was something you could say, just to make him stay a bit longer. And then, you came up with the perfect answer.

“Although, I would have to say that you should consider getting her a library card. It’s getting hard to keep up with her rotating interests and reading levels.” You meant this as a joke, but Poe seemed to take it seriously.

“That was you? Getting her the books?” You nodded, a bit scared that you crossed a line or did something wrong, and then he continued, “She said she was getting them from school, I didn’t know she meant from her teacher. I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? I’m perfectly happy to get her the books, it’s easier to get them from the library than to pay for them. I don’t mind, honestly, I look forward to hearing all about whatever new thing she’s interested in.”

The last part earned a small chuckle, before he continued talking, “You shouldn’t have to do that for her, I’ll start taking her to the library or something.” He still seemed upset though, which you hadn’t anticipated. You almost regret bringing it up.

“I’m sorry if I crossed a line, I just thought she might enjoy reading things that actually interested her. I should have made sure you were ok with it, I’m really sorry.”

“No! No, that’s not-“ And then Poe was cut off with another teacher knocking on your door. Instead of finishing his sentence, he changed course and said goodbye, standing up and leaving as quickly as he could.

——

Now you just felt dumb. In your short span of being a teacher, you hadn’t bonded with a student the same way you bonded with Bey. According to the other teachers, it was because she saw you as a mother figure, which you thought was bullshit. Sure, she didn’t have a conventional mom, but she certainly had mother figures, you’d heard all about Rey and Rose, her dad’s friends who she looked up to more than you thought possible, when she came to class early. Sure, you liked her, but there was no way in hell she saw you in an even remotely mother figure way.

While this didn’t seem like a big deal, you realize the weight of the gesture while staring at your ceiling that night. God, it had seemed like you overstepped. You definitely should have asked Poe first, and now you were thinking of ways to apologize. You would have done the same thing for any other student who asked. Hell, you had in the past, but for some reason, this was different, it carried a different weight, the gesture had a seemingly deeper meaning than when you’d picked up books at the library for kids the year before. At least you had the weekend to find a way to apologize.

———

You turn around in the aisle of shelves when you hear a surprised gasp. When you finish turning around, you’re equally as surprised to see the person in front of you. Out of all the people you expected to see in the public library, little Bey Dameron was not one of them, but there she was, standing there and staring up at you. You were surprised, not just because of the conversation you had with her dad, but also her avid complaining about her lack of a library card. Apparently, Poe had taken your words from the conference to heart, and had finally gotten the kid a library card.

“Hi Bey!” You attempt a wave, but your hands are full with a thick stack of books. Your conversation with the kid is cut off before it can even begin, when her father hurriedly turns into the aisle behind her.

“Jesus Christ, Bey! You can’t just run off!”

“Sorry!” She did look genuinely sorry, but her look of regret is soon replaced by one of pure joy. “But look who I found!” Poe follows the path of Bey’s extended finger, his eyes landing on you for the first time since he stepped into the aisle.

And you immediately wish the floor would just swallow you up, and extract you from the situation. You opt to instead keep your focus on the little girl, who’s giving you one of her signature toothy, or rather lacking-teeth, smiles. You can’t help but smile back. Poe begins to talk, and it unfortunately pulls your attention to him.

“Look, I’m sorry, I just-“

“I’m really sorry, but I’ve gotta get going.” You’re already retreating backwards down the aisle. “Bye, Mr, Dameron. I’ll see you Monday, Bey!”

The little girl yells her goodbyes at you, met with sushing from her father, who can’t help but to smile and reprimand her anyway, “Bey, we are in a library!” And you just laugh.

——

“Look at the book I got at the library!” Bey pulls the book out of her backpack, and rushes over to your desk as soon as she enters your classroom on Monday morning. She holds it up, and you see it’s a rather thick book about airplanes.

“Can I see it?” She eagerly places it into your hands, and you open it to see it’s mainly pictures and large letters, shutting it and handing it back to her with a smile. “Very cool!”

“Yeah, my daddy finally took me to the library! And then we saw you! But daddy was acting kinda weird, and I asked him about it, and he said that he made you sad, and he wanted to say sorry because he didn’t try to make you sad, and then-“ Bey’s rambling was cut off by the bell ringing and her friends calling to her, so she hurried back to her desk so she could talk to her friends while you set up for the day.

For once in your life, you were glad for the kid’s rambling, finally giving you insight into the situation. He felt bad. He didn’t need to, and you decided that next time you saw him you would tell him that. You’d say, hey, no hard feelings, I crossed a line, don’t feel bad it’s fine, and then it would be fine. Bey clearly didn’t seem to mind.

And, for a reason unknown to you, it made you feel significantly better that he wasn’t angry with you. You told yourself that it was because you craved approval, especially from parents, who you knew were constantly judging you. It totally wasn’t because you were starting to get a crush on the man. That was totally, completely, not even a factor in why it made you feel better.

——

The moment to apologize, apparently, came a lot sooner than you thought it would. You normally never had to worry about kids getting picked up in time, but on Friday, Bey was still there 20 minutes after school got let out. This was unusual, because even if her dad couldn’t get her, one of her dad’s friends, the people she called her aunts and uncles, would have picked her up. You just assume Poe got held up somewhere, and would be here soon.

“Can you call him?” Bey, who was normally completely fine spending extra time with you, was clearly extremely worried, evident by her constant asking, glancing at the clock, and the way her bottom lip was beginning to quiver.

“I’m so sorry, but I don’t know his phone number.” And now the office was closed, and you didn’t have a key. “Do you know it?” She shook her head, and was looking closer to tears by the second. “Here, I’ll tell you what we’ll do. We’ll wait until the big hand gets to the six, and if he isn’t here, we can go and find a janitor for the key to the office. Does that sound ok?” She nodded, but still looked extremely upset, which was understandable. “Wanna color?”

She nodded again, so you sat at a little table with her and colored, while looking out the window for her dad’s car every few minutes. She was still uncharacteristically quiet, which you just chalked up to her dad being late. You decided to distract her a little further.

“Do you have any plans for the weekend?”

“Yep! We’re going to drive and visit my grandpa. Only, he lives far away so I have to sit in my car seat for like, 100 hours. But it’s ok, because then I get to run around at my grandpa’s house. And my dad said this time I could climb the really huge tree.” She answered all of this without looking up from her coloring page.

“Hey, Bey? What color is your dad’s car?”

“It’s grey. And it’s kinda small so sometimes-“

You cut off what was sure to be another ramble by pointing out the window. “Is that it?” She gasped and sprung out of her seat, grabbing her backpack and half finished coloring sheet, as you watched her dad all but throw himself out of the car.

“C’mon, Bey, let’s get you home.”

By the time you made it out the door, he had already practically sprinted to the door.

“Daddy!”

“Im so sorry I’m so late, kiddo, I fucked up.”

“Daddy! You can’t say that!” She was laughing as he picked her up, and you couldn’t help but to smile.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. It hasn’t been a good day today.”

“Oh no! You have to tell me all about it in the car, because you were late. And then you have to buy me ice cream!”

“Of course I will.”

“Can I go in the car now? Or am I spending the rest of my night standing here?” This earned a laugh from both you and Poe. Clearly, she didn’t really care that he was almost 40 minutes late.

“Sure thing, kiddo,” he placed her down, and then shouted out as she started to run to his car, “Be careful! Look for cars!” She yelled something back, but you couldn’t really hear. Once she made it safely to his car, Poe’s attention was turned to you.

“Look, I’m really sorry, it’s been a shitty day, and I know that’s no excuse to leave my kid for 40 minutes after school, and I know you think I’m a shitty dad, but I really am sorry. Can I pay you back or something? A gift card?”

“It’s totally fine, accidents happen all the time. I really didn’t mind spending the extra time with her, I would have been here this late anyway, I just had some company.”

“At least let me get you a gift card or something.”

“No way, I don’t take bribes.” You grin, before continuing, “plus, I’m so sorry about the books. I should have asked first and I definitely crossed a line. So now we’re even.”

He’s shaking his head, and is about to say something, but Bey decides she’s over sitting in the car, and opens the window to yell out, “Hurry up! I wanna go home now please!”

“Don’t keep your kid waiting any longer, or I don’t think ice cream will be enough penance for you.” He huffs out a laugh, before thanking you again, and then turning to go to his car. You stand outside and wave as they drive past, laughing as you see Bey’s face pressed against the window and her overly enthusiastic face.

——

“Daddy?”

“What Bey?” Poe responds to the inquiry from the backseat with an only mildly exasperated sigh.

“I have to draw a picture of the really big tree right when we get home.”

“Ok.”

“Aren’t you going to ask me why?”

“Sorry,” he laughs, and any little bit of frustration he had with Bey during the 3 hour car ride was gone, replaced with only even more love for his incredibly smart and headstrong 7 year old daughter. “Why do you need to draw a picture?”

“Because I told my teacher about it and I told her how big it was and she didn’t believe me so now I gotta draw her a picture of it.”

You. She was drawing you a picture. Poe knew it was bad, it was wrong to be in love with his daughter’s teacher. Not love, he quickly corrected his mind, just a crush. A small, tiny crush that grows exponentially every time he sees you. And, to make it significantly worse, you probably hated him and thought he was a horrible dad. But he didn’t have time to dwell on that, because Bey was rambling on about what she learned during science last week.

——

Your other least favorite day of the year. End of the school year parent-teacher conferences. And, again, you were looking forward to finally going home, with one last conference in between you and eating your dinner. And, again, it was Poe Dameron. It looks like the universe decided to give you a do over.

The first thing Poe noticed when he walked into your room were the drawings taped to your desk. Specifically, a drawing of a tree that takes up most of the page, with his daughter’s sloppy signature taking over the bottom of the page. The second thing he noticed was how incredibly pretty you looked.

“It’s nice to see you again.” You start as he sits down, “I still don’t have any concerns with Bey or her learning. I’m sure she’ll do just fine in third grade.”

“Third grade, damn.” He sits for a moment, contemplating how quickly his little girl is growing up before he recognized that he had cursed. He wasn’t sure what the rules were, but it felt strange to be cursing in a second grade classroom. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to curse or anything, it’s just too crazy to think she’s growing up.”

“It’s fine,” you say through a smile, “Its always crazy to see them grow up through the year, they all seem so much bigger than they were before. I’m sure that’s the last thing you wanna hear though.”

“It’s not my favorite thing,” it’s his turn to smile now, “I don’t want her to grow up. Third grade seems too old.”

You nod, before adding, “She still has 3 weeks of second grade left.” He nods with a smile, and you continue, “If it makes you feel any better, I’m gonna miss her. She’s a great student, and I can tell she’s already becoming a wonderful person.”

“Thank you, I know she’s going to miss you. You’ve definitely made an impact on her. Now I have to take her to the library every week, she’ll be reading encyclopedias before 4th grade.” You both laugh at this, enjoying the small time you have with each other before it gets too unprofessional.

“Well, if you don’t have any questions for me, I think that’s everything. It was nice to see you again.” You add, and he can tell it’s an honest sentiment, and not just something you mean when you say it to every parent you meet with.

“I won’t take up any more of your time,” he says, standing, “but I do have one question.”

“Of course.”

“Do you… alright, this might be weird, please tell me if it is, but… would you, I mean, are you… do you want to maybe go out sometime? Not anything serious, maybe just coffee or something like that? And you can totally say no! This is probably super weird for you, I’m really sorry, I’ll stop now.”

“I’m sorry, Poe, but I’m still Bey’s teacher, and I don’t want this to be weird.” He nods his understanding, turning to leave, so you quickly add in something before he reaches the door.

“Ask me again in 3 weeks, I’ll have a different answer.”

CAT CAT CAT CAT CAT.

this chapter is so cute i got so excited when i saw the notif!!

A Cat Named Bee

Chapter 8 of You Are In Love

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: modern!Poe Dameron x reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: none

Author’s Note: can you tell I like when cats do that nuzzling thing?

It seems strange to you how strange normal life feels. You always expect to hear your friends busy in the kitchen when you wake up, to see them first thing in the morning and last thing at night. Only after a week living together, it seems odd to be apart.

Although, you really aren’t apart all that often. You and Rose work the same shifts at Maz’s more often than not, and Finn, Poe, and Rey come in at least once a week. The five of you always get together on Fridays, whether that’s at someone’s apartment, The Resistance, or somewhere else altogether.

And, you’re always texting each other throughout the week, so not a day goes by that you don’t talk to them at least once. But it really isn’t the same as being around them all the time. You’d been worried that they’d get sick of you, but you all seem to feel the same way: the more time you spend together, the more you want to be together.

You just keep finding more and more things to love about your friends. Sure, they have some negative qualities, all people do, but all in all they’re the best people you’ve ever met, and you’re thankful for them every day.

Even when Rose springs it on you that she’ll be gone for an entire week, off to visit with her family out of state.

So, not only will you have to brave all of your shifts alone, you won’t get to see her or Rey for an entire week. You can’t even remember a time when you weren’t spending at least five hours of your day with Rose.

But you know how excited she is to see her family in person after so long, and how excited she is to bring Rey home. You can’t help but smile whenever she talks about it.

You promise, or threaten, to send her updates every hour, and she responds by saying she’ll block your number. Knowing her, she’d do it. So instead, you just tell her to have fun and tell you all about it when she comes home.

The morning shifts go by so much slower without Rose to keep you company, even when Finn and Poe stop in to talk during your slow times.

“Just the three of us, huh?” Poe says, leaning his elbows onto the counter while you finish making their drinks. You ignore the wink Finn sends to you.

“You should stop by The Resistance later, annoy us while we work as much as we annoy you,” Finn adds, taking his to-go cup from you after placing a generous tip into the jar.

“Maybe I’ll make an appearance,” you reply with a shrug of your shoulders, as if it’s probable that you’d have any conflicting plans.

“We’ll see you later!” Poe shouts on his way out the door, letting you tend to the customers who arrived during the mid-morning rush while he and Finn were distracting you.

You spend your afternoon lazing around your apartment, staring at half-finished paintings with a brush in your hand before giving up and settling on the couch with a book, hoping that you’ll magically receive infinite inspiration.

When that doesn’t happen, you make yourself dinner and send Finn and Poe a text, confirming that you’ll be at The Resistance later. When they text you back, they try to upstage each other on the number of exclamation points they can send. You just watch the messages light up your phone screen with a smile on your face.

A few hours later, when you arrive at The Resistance, you find yourself a spot near the corner of the bar, and settle in for the night.

“Usual?” Finn asks as he slides over to you, your drink already half made.

“What if I said no?” You ask, with a nod of your head to the drink he's already placed in front of you.

“I would have given it to a customer who appreciates me,” he responds, ignoring your eye roll and heading off to tend to more of the customers leaning against the bar.

You don’t see Poe until a little while later, but you don’t miss the way his eyes light up when he spots you after stepping out of the back office to help Finn behind the bar.

“Look who finally showed up,” he says in greeting as he steps behind the bar, working on refilling your empty glass.

“I got here on time, you should pay more attention,” you quip back, accepting your drink with a smile of thanks.

You spend most of the night by yourself, with Finn and Poe coming up to chat whenever they have some down time. It’s not until they’re practically closing that the three of you have a whole conversation, interrupted only by their shouts of goodbye to the customers heading home.

Once they’re all done cleaning up, you slip off your barstool and make your way towards the door, only to be stopped by both Finn and Poe.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Finn asks incredulously, pausing in his wiping of the bar top.

“Home?” You reply, but your confusion makes it seem like a question instead of a statement.

“Alone? Are you walking?” This time it’s Poe, organizing the space behind the bar that descended into chaos throughout the night.

“I was going to Uber.”

“By yourself? At one in the morning? No fucking way, Poe’ll drive you.”

You know they’re looking out for you, but you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“Guys-“

“No arguing, Finn can finish up,” Poe already has his keys out and is shrugging on his coat, truly giving you no room to argue.

“Thank you,” you whisper as you buckle yourself in and Poe starts the car.

“It’s no problem, really,” he moves his hand off the gearshift, gently squeezing yours where it rests on your knee, and your body is full of sparks, “if you ever need anything, I’m always here.”

He says it with that signature smile that melts your insides to goo, so you only nod, even though he can’t see you. The rest of the ride is silent, in a comfortable way, only the gentle hum of the radio filling the car.

It’s over much too soon, and you linger a little too long outside of your building.

“Thanks again,” you say, leaning through the car door you’re still holding open, drawing out this interaction as much as possible.

“Like I said, not a problem.”

You’re turning and about to shut the door when you hear him clear his throat, so you turn back around and Poe looks like he’s about to say something. You raise an eyebrow in question, silently urging him on.

“Wanna get dinner tomorrow? Finn’s busy and it’s a Friday and that’s when we all do something together but everyone else is busy, so I thought-“

“That’s great,” you’re trying to play it cool, but you can feel your grin splitting your face apart, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.”

With that, you finally shut the door, and hope that he can’t see you silently celebrating as you walk up to your apartment.

Little do you know, he’s doing the same thing in his car.

As it turns out, the only thing Finn was busy doing was playing matchmaker. When you call him the next morning and ask what his plans are for the evening, you hear him chuckle to himself and immediately know he’s set this all up.

“You’re awful, did you know that?” You say through a smile, only making him laugh harder.

“You know you love me.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“Let me know how everything goes.” He’s barely containing his laughter, he’s just so proud of himself.

“I’m never speaking to you again.” That makes him cackle through your phone speakers, and you hang up without another word, not yet deciding if you’re going to be upset at Finn for setting you up.

You spend the day as an anxious mess, and nothing works to distract you. To try painting, reading, watching TV, taking a nap, and no matter what you do, you always end up thinking about Poe and overthinking what it’s going to be like to spend the entire evening together.

It’s not like you think he’s going to be rude or anything, you’re worried if you’re going to be able to control yourself and not let loose all the feelings you’ve been containing for months now. You’re practically a bundle of nerves the entire time you’re getting ready, and during the walk to Poe’s apartment, and by the time you’re knocking on his door, you’re sure you’re going to pass out.

You manage to stay upright when Poe opens the door, a broad smile on his face and a towel thrown over his shoulder. There’s a smear of flour across his nose that makes you fight the urge to gently wipe it away, and have your hand linger on his cheek.

“C’mon in!” Poe steps back, letting you enter into his space, “I tried to clean it up, but it’s still a bit cluttered. And dinner is almost done.”

You toe off your shoes before stepping deeper into his apartment, taking in all of his decor and furnishings.

“Wow, a chef and a bartender, what can’t you do?”

“Juggle.”

You snort, and it’s an ugly sound, but Poe breaks out in a grin while you shake your head at his joke, and you’d make that noise a hundred times if it means you can see that expression light up his face.

He goes back to cooking, frantically stirring at something simmering on the stove, while you take a peek at his kitchen and living room, looking through the items he has on his bookshelves and end table, the pictures he has framed and hanging on the walls.

There are pictures of him with Finn in front of jets, looking baby faced and bright eyed. There are pictures with him, Rey, and Rose, laughing around a table with a board game set up. There’s a picture of the five of you from your lake trip, and you can’t help the smile that grows on your face.

He had pictures with a man who you assume is his father, with the same nose and dark brown eyes, spanning from his childhood to what looks like a few months ago, in front of a large tree. He has older, weathered photos, with a smiling woman with curly hair and a curly haired baby on her lap. There’s a photo with him and an older woman, a different woman, with her grey hair in an elaborate braid.

You want to ask, want to sit and listen to him rememinse on every moment from the pictures, but you’re not sure how he’d react. The last thing you want is for the two of you to start growing close, only for you to ruin it by prying into his past.

While you have your dilemma, an orange and white cat winds itself around your legs, nuzzling its head as it goes.

“Oh, you must be the famed Bee,” you say to the animal, crouching down to give him a good scratch between his ears, delighting in the way he purrs and rubs against your hand.

You stay in your crouched position, cooing to the cat as he flips onto the ground, allowing you to pet him and making happy little noises as you do. Poe, for just a moment, stands in the entryway to the living room, smiling as he hears you speaking softly to Bee.

“Be careful, or you’ll inflate his ego,” he finally says, suppressing a chuckle as you jump in surprise.

“He deserves it, he’s adorable,” you reply, standing up, much to the protest of Bee, who meows loudly in an attempt to get you to stay.

As much as it pains you to leave the cat, you follow Poe back into the kitchen, Bee trailing behind.

“What can I help with?” You ask as Bee winds his way between your legs again, trying to get the attention back on him.

“Nothing, it’s almost done.”

“Then can I help set the table?”

“Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p’ sound. He truly is a headstrong, stubborn man.

So, you sit around and wait while Poe finishes up before plating the food and setting it on the table. It smells amazing, and you’re sure that it’s going to taste twice as good. Poe pours you a drink, and then you settle in at his cozy kitchen table.

You spend hours there, talking and talking about everything and nothing and all the things in between. You reminisce on your childhoods and cringe as you tell stories from high school and college, reliving your fondest memories.

You can’t remember a time in your life where you’ve talked with someone this much, where you don’t even realize the sky growing dark or the hours ticking by, you’re so enthralled with Poe and everything he had to say. Of course, he listens to you and your stories with just as much intensity, asking questions and humming along in all the right places.

At some point, you find yourself squished between him and the counter, helping him wash the dishes. He still insists that he wash and you dry, so he instructs you on where all of the dishes go. It feels intimate in an unexpected way, and it makes your heart thud against your ribs.

Though, you’re doing a much better job at keeping yourself together than you thought. You haven’t spilled your guts to the man yet, and it looks like you’re in the clear, as long as you remember how to breathe when he steps behind you to open up a cabinet and you can feel the warmth of his chest on your back, even through the layers of fabric that separate you.

It’s like he does it on purpose, acts all charming and lovely so you fall in love with him, and even though you know it’s not remotely true, that’s the only reason you can think of for why he’d torture you like this. Or, maybe, you’re being a bit dramatic and he’s just trying to put the dishes away.

Either way, he steps away all too soon, and you suddenly feel extremely cold without him pressed up against you.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry,” you blurt after a glance at the clock on his oven, worried you’d overstayed your welcome by about three hours.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he responds, looking confused until you jerk your heads towards the time flashing on his oven, nodding along as realization dawns across his face. “Well, now I’m sorry for keeping you here so late.”

It’s delivered with one of those classic Poe Dameron smiles that makes you weak in the knees, and you’re lucky you’ve got the sink at your back to support you.

“Alright, let me grab my keys,” he says, leaving no room for discussion as he turns away, heading towards his bedroom.

You shake your head, even though he can’t see you, and crouch down to give Bee some goodbye scratches. When you stand, he gently headbutts your leg, and your heart bursts at this adorable little animal. You see why Poe loves him so much.

When Poe comes back into the kitchen, you head towards his door and slip your shoes back on, waiting as he does the same. The two of you talk quietly as you make your way to his car, mindful of the late hour.

The conversation dies off into a comfortable type of quiet after Poe starts driving, and you almost think you could fall asleep like this, feeling warm and happy and safe. But, then Poe starts to talk, so you put off your nap for now.

“I’d let you watch him, next time I go out of town if you want.”

It seems random, out of the blue, but it makes your throat close up all the same. You remember the jokes about just how much Poe loved his cat, how he wouldn’t let anyone but Finn, Rey, or Rose pet sit for him.

You think you grasp his meaning, despite how well he thinks he’s hidden it.

“You’d trust me with your best friend?” Your voice is teasing, and your chest warms at the smile that graces his features.

“‘Course I would.” He’s pulling up to your building now, and you’d give anything to live in this moment for a little while longer. “Though he’s more of a handful than he seems.”

“Like you?” You ask, unbuckling and getting ready to bolt.

“Just like me.”

“No one’s just like you, Poe.” You say, voice going soft and tentative, “You’re one of a kind.”

You hope he grasps the meaning behind your words, while simultaneously praying he doesn’t.

“Goodnight, Poe.” You decide that no answer is better, so you hurry out and shut the car door without looking back at him, trying to walk to your apartment as calmly as possible, even though you’re rioting on the inside.

Your heart doesn’t stop pounding until you're laying in your bed, running through the night in your mind over and over, analyzing every single thing you’ve said. You aren’t sure how, but at some point, you fall asleep, still ruminating over every moment you’ve spent with Poe.

Tags: @aellynera @userspectors @andromeda-dear @dailyreverie @poopirate @luckynachos @creatively-analytical @stevenngrant @tiquinntheghost @fallinallinmendes @sabxism @ghostsongwriter-22

this is so sweet and cozy ! read it right after waking up and it’s so comforting i feel like i could go back to bed and sleep for two years i adore this

Birthday Surprise

You Are In Love universe one-shot

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: modern!Poe Dameron x gn!reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 1.6k

Author’s Note: another little birthday gift for y’all! This doesn’t necessarily take place after Chapter 7, just at some point in this little universe I’ve created :)

You had never really loved your birthday: sure, when you were younger, you enjoyed it. It was a day all about you, where you got tons of presents and all the attention. But, as you got older, the attention made you uncomfortable and the gifts were nothing to look forward to, because you rarely got anything.

You remember being in high school, and going out of your way to buy thoughtful gifts for your friends, and delivering them to their house if you didn’t see them.

None of your friends ever went out of their way to do anything like that for you.

Your birthday often leaves you feeling alone and forgotten.

It wasn’t like you were greedy, it wasn't about getting gifts or having people lavish you with attention. You would have loved to receive a card or even just a text that said ‘happy birthday’.

Birthdays were hard enough without feeling entirely alone.

So you never really mentioned when your birthday was to Rose, or the rest of the group. You didn’t want them to feel pressured into doing something for you when they didn’t want to, you never wanted anyone to feel obligated to celebrate your birthday in any form.

You didn’t even realize that you never told her when your birthday was until a few days ago. She’d been complaining about having to train a new hire during a morning shift, and then said, “But at least you’ll be here.”

“Hate for you to find out this way, but I actually took off.”

You burst into laughter at the look of shock on her face: not because she’s upset at you, but because you very rarely take off from work, unless you’re sick or there’s an emergency.

“And why in the hell did you do that?”

“I didn’t feel like getting up early on my birthday.”

At that, she freezes. You instantly regret mentioning it, because now she’s going to feel obligated to do something for you, because she really is a sweet person, but you’re going to feel awful about it.

You can see the gears turning in her head, but all she says is, “Enjoy sleeping in.”

You push that interaction to the back of your mind: it’s the only way you won’t dwell on it for the rest of your life. And, by the time your birthday rolls around, you barely even remember that you told Rose.

You sleep in, so much so that it’s closer to the afternoon when you finally roll out of bed. You make yourself a breakfast of your favorite items, and then luxuriate in the shower, standing under the stream of water for as long as you want.

After you pull on some comfy clothes, you settle in front of the TV with old sitcoms playing and some watercolors in front of you. You spend the afternoon just like that, painting and snacking while your favorite shows play quietly in the background.

And then, there’s a knock at your door.

You really hadn’t been expecting anything, and you highly doubt that any of your family members would surprise you.

So you’re incredibly shocked when you open the door to reveal Rose, Rey, Finn, and Poe, all decked out in party hats, their arms laden with gifts and balloons and cake.

“Surprise!” Rey shouts, and you couldn’t stop the tears from flowing if you tried.

“We all hated the idea of you spending your birthday alone,” Rose is quick to explain when she notices your tears, “I’m sorry, I really should have asked first.”

“No, no” you reply, wiping your eyes, “this is… the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.” You step back to allow your friends to enter your apartment, still wiping the tears away from your eyes. You can’t even remember the last time someone put in the effort to throw you a birthday party, let alone a surprise party.

“Now I feel underdressed,” you say with a small laugh, gesturing down at your lounge clothes, “I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time, we’ll be setting up here,” Rose responds, setting down one of the many bags onto your kitchen table as you disappear into your bedroom.

You know that you don’t actually have to change, they’ve all seen you in your pajamas before, but they went through all the trouble to put all of this together for you, the least you could do was put on some presentable clothes.

When you emerge from your room, the kitchen and living room have been transformed: there are balloons and streamers all over, a cake on the kitchen counter, and a pile of gifts on your ottoman. You have to fight the urge to cry again.

Where did you get such amazing friends?

“We know it’s not a lot, but we all thought you deserved to have a little celebration,” Rose says, and you pull her into a tight hug. You knew this was all her idea, and while everyone else was clearly keen to help out, you could tell she was the mastermind behind it all.

“It’s perfect, really,” you release Rose from your grip as you talk, only to be pulled into Rey’s arms, “thank you guys, honestly.”

“Cake or presents first?” Finn asks, pulling you into a side-shoulder hug: much less smothering but no less affectionate.

“Cake first?” You look around to see if anyone disagrees, because it really didn’t matter to you all that much. What mattered is that your friends were happy after they’d put together this wonderful little party.

“It’s your big day, we do whatever you want.” Poe responds, and you’d be worried that he’s bitter if you didn’t see that gentle little smile on his face, a smile that tells you that everything’s alright.

You all make your way back to the kitchen, and you take your first good look at the cake. It’s frosted in your favorite color, and you can tell that Rose made it from the handwritten, frosted ‘happy birthday!’ across the center of the cake.

You can’t remember the last time someone actually made you a birthday cake.

Then, the numbered candles are stuck into the cake, and your least favorite part of the whole birthday celebration begins: singing happy birthday. You never really know what to do with yourself, and it always leaves you feeling awkward and uncomfortable.

But, today, you find that you don’t hate it as much as you normally do. You’re sure it has everything to do with the people singing it.

After you’ve blown out your candles, you move to cut and serve the cake, but Rose immediately shoos you away.

“Just sit and relax, let us take care of you for once.”

And, as much as you it seems wrong to admit, it feels nice to be taken care of, to be surrounded by people who love you and who want to take care of you. It’s a foreign feeling, and you don’t completely hate it.

After the cake had been passed out and eaten, you all move back to the living room to open the gifts. It still shocked you that people would go out of their way to pick out something for you, to think about the things you enjoy and then buy something for you.

All of the gifts are so thoughtful you have to keep reminding yourself not to cry. Finn got you some new brushes, after you’d complained about how yours were falling apart after so much use. Rey and Rose bought you a small houseplant, complete with an adorable little pot, after you’d mentioned wishing you had more greenery in your apartment.

It completely baffled you that you could mention something once, in passing, and your friends would remember it.

And Poe’s gift was probably the best of all. It’s a picture of the five of you, all crowded around the bar of The Resistance, from the night your mural was first displayed. It’s something so simple, but so insanely meaningful, you wonder if you even had a chance at not falling for him.

You can’t take your eyes off of it, can’t look away from your smiling faces staring back at you from the TV stand where you’d displayed the picture. It fills your heart with warmth and makes your brain all fuzzy, in a way that you can’t name but isn’t wholly unpleasant.

It’s well past midnight when your friends leave, in a flurry of hugs and promises to get together again soon and to text when they get home safely. The night was spent playing card games and eating snacks, telling each other embarrassing stories and laughing so hard you cry at each other’s expense.

It’s the best birthday you’ve had in years.

Poe sticks around, citing the cramped elevator and needing to help you clean up.

Although, not much cleaning gets accomplished. Instead, the majority of your time is spent talking, doubling over in laughter as you attempt to clean up the gift bags and wrapping paper that litters your living room floor.

Much to your dismay, Poe leaves around 1 in the morning, with a hug that lasts a little longer than it should and a “happy birthday” whispered into your ear, making a shiver run down your spine.

You try not to think much of it as he shuts the door behind him.

Instead, you decide the rest of the cleaning can wait, and you get ready for bed in record time before curling under the covers and falling asleep, all to be greeted by the best dreams you’ve had in a long time.

Tags: @aellynera @disabledameron @stevenngrant @dailyreverie @creatively-analytical @luckynachos @poopirate @fallinallinmendes @sabxism @tiquinntheghost @ghostsongwriter-22

SCREAMS

i love how much you incorporate everyone’s friendship it makes this fic feel so warm and cozy i just want to curl up in it forever!!

What Love Is

Chapter 7 of You Are In Love

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: modern!Poe Dameron x gn!reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 3.5k

Author’s Note: can you tell how I feel about kitchens?

When you blink awake, the sun is already high in the sky. You yawn, stretching like a cat, and think over what happened last night, early into the morning.

You and Poe had sat there on the blanket, well past 1 AM, with your shoulders touching and nothing else. Once, you felt his hand shift, as if he was reaching for yours, but then he settled again. Once you’d both yawned no less than five times, you decided it was time to turn in for the night.

As soon as your head hit the pillow, you were fast asleep. And now, you’re being pulled from your bed by the food you can smell from the kitchen. You make your way downstairs, pulled towards the kitchen by the scent of the pancakes.

Finn and Rey sit at the island, coffee cups in hand, looking rumpled from sleep. Rose is the one cooking the pancakes, and the first to shoot a cheerful “good morning” your way. She’s always been a morning person.

That’s one of the reasons why you always loved working those early morning shifts with her. She was always so energetic, so happy just to be alive, that it was impossible not to have a good time with her, even though the sun wasn’t even up.

And when you see Poe, he almost takes your breath away.

His curls are all sort of tousled, sticking up at endearingly odd angles and falling into his eyes. He’s wearing a soft looking t-shirt and pajama pants that sit low in his hips, giving you a generous view of his lower stomach as he stretches his arms above his head with a yawn.

You almost want to avert your eyes, because you’re not completely sure if you can control yourself around him if he’s looking all sleepy and adorable.

So much for the promise you made yourself.

You make your way over to the stool you’d been occupying during meals, smiling your thanks when Finn slides you a cup of coffee, doctored up just the way you like it. Poe is standing on the other side of you, leaning against the counter like a goddamn model. Has he always smelt this good?

He smells fresh and comforting, like rain and bonfires and clean laundry. You resist the urge to stick your face into the junction of his neck and shoulders, and chalk it up to your brain still waking up, not the way your heart falters whenever you see that sleepy little smile grace his features.

You need to get a grip: both on the yearning and on the part of your brain that’s scolding you for your every thought. It’s not like you’re dreaming about him sticking his tongue down your throat or leaving marks on your thighs. You just want to give him a kiss on that perfect nose of his and tessellate yourself around him, koala-style.

It’s really just a crush, and you still aren’t quite sure why you’re acting this way. Maybe it’s because he’s one of the first friends you’ve made in a while and you can’t picture your life without him now. Or maybe it’s because Finn planted that little ‘he totally loves you’ seed in your brains and now you’re overthinking every single interaction you and Poe have.

You resist the urge to shoot Finn an angry glare, because he’s not the one to blame for your pining, and instead just sip your coffee and listen in on the quiet conversations that fill the small space.

Rose finishes with the pancakes, making a sizable stack on each plate before she hands them off and the five of you start eating. You’ve always known that Rose was a talented baker from all your shifts together at Maz’s, but that clearly rolls over into cooking too. All of the pancakes are perfectly round and perfectly golden, and you’re convinced she’s some sort of kitchen wizard.

Breakfast is a leisurely affair, as you all eat and talk over your plans for the rest of the day. Then, slowly, your friends filter out of the kitchen, returning to their rooms to shower and get ready for the day, leaving only you and Poe in the kitchen.

You briefly wonder if he plans these little moments, choosing to stay back because he knows you will and he craves this time as much as you do, but you dismiss that thought as quickly as it comes.

“Dishes?” He asks, and holy hell, that soft, gravely voice of his should be illegal. You’ve never heard a better sound.

“I’ll wash, you dry?”

“No, I’ll wash.”

“But you did yesterday.”

“Exactly,” he says, smiling at you, “If it’s not broke, don’t fix it.”

You shake your head at him to hide your smile, and make your way towards the sink on the other side of the kitchen island. You settle yourself into the little corner as Poe gathers the remainders of the dishes from the counter.

Just like yesterday, the two of you make the task ten times longer with all of your easy-flowing conversations. You don’t let yourself dwell on how lovely and domestic it feels: the both of you in your pajamas, doing a household chore, talking about practically nothing.

You don’t even realize that the two of you have been standing there, crowded against the sink, for far longer than it would reasonably take to do the meager dishes until Rey walks into the kitchen to start packing the snacks and drinks for the beach.

A bit awkwardly, you slip out of the kitchen and hurry up to your room, where you rush through getting ready to meet up with your friends back in the kitchen. Before you do, you take a deep breath, trying to calm the hell down and hoping that no one catches on to your little crush, especially not Poe.

You’re calling it a crush because it feels indecent to say: I desperately want to spend the rest of my life with this person who is one of my best friends and every single time I interact with him it feels like my heart is going to implode.

So you settle on a crush.

Thankfully, no one makes any comments about how long it took for you to do the dishes, no winks or raised eyebrows or teasing grins.

You gather up the towels, and make your way towards the beach, and set yourselves up in the same spot you were in yesterday. And, luckily, just like yesterday, the beach is practically empty with the exception of your group.

The entire morning is spent playing around and having fun with your friends, and the majority of that time is spent on the water, floating and splashing around. You don’t even realize how much time is passing, too distracted by all of your laughing.

You can’t remember a time when you’ve felt so light, so happy, in a way that you can’t possibly articulate. You can’t describe how even being near them makes you fill with a warmth that could only be described as pure joy and safety, but even that doesn’t reach the depth of your feelings.

They’re your home.

And you can’t figure out a single way to tell them that, to let them know just how much they mean to you. So, instead, you smile a little wider and laugh a little harder, and vow to hug them a little tighter.

When noon approaches, you step out of the water to lay out in the sun and dry off before you head back to the house for lunch.

After you all decide that you’re dry enough, you gather up all of your things and begin the trek back to the house, where you settle into your spot at the kitchen island. There’s yelling and teasing when Rose announces that she’s heating up a frozen pizza, and you couldn’t be happier.

There’s always so much life when you’re with the group, so much affection you can almost feel it, as if it’s a tangible thing. It seeps into every teasing yell and every serious conversation, every hug and silent moment.

You wonder, then, if that’s what Poe feels for you. Love, but not in the romantic sense. In the way that you feel whenever you share a smile with Finn or work a shift when Rose, whenever Rey goes out of her way to bring you something special when you feel down.

You love them like your family, but that is not the way you love Poe, if you can even call it love.

It’s a slow, simmering thing that lives and builds in the depths of you. It flutters to life in the moments you steal, in diners or near kitchen sinks or on beaches past midnight. It’s the desire to spend the rest of your life wrapped safely in his arms.

And you’re terrified that that’s not the way he feels about you. That he doesn’t get that flutter in his stomach whenever he sees you, that he isn’t fighting the urge to kiss you whenever you smile or laugh. That he loves you the same way he loves Finn and Rey and Rose.

Which is a gift itself. To have someone like Poe Dameron love you at all, especially to have him love you like family? You’re not sure how you got so lucky.

And you fear that’s the extent of your luck, and you fear that you want him to love you differently.

After you finish eating, the cooler gets refilled with snacks and drinks and the five of you head back to the beach to spend the rest of the afternoon the same way you spent the morning.

By the time dinner rolls around, you’re ready for a nap: you’ve spent practically all day in the sun, laughing and letting loose with your friends.

All of you head to your own rooms, to shower and spend some time alone and out of the sun. In the bathroom, you peel off your still-damp suit before getting in the shower, luxuriating in the cool water that seems to bring your body temperature back to normal levels after all day outside.

Afterwards, you change into some comfy clothes, deciding that you were done being outside for the day. As much as you loved it, you really wanted to enjoy this vacation, and you couldn’t do that if you felt pressured to spend every single moment living it up.

But, when you head downstairs, it’s clear that everyone else had the same idea.

All of your friends are dressed in their coziest, weather appropriate clothes, and Rose is putting together a tray of snacks.

“We decided on a movie night, if that’s ok with you?” Rey asks from where she’s leaving against the countertop, reaching over to attempt to steal food and faking shock when Rose gently bats her hand away.

“That sounds perfect.” With that, the five of you head to the living room, and you help Rose haul all of the snacks, even making a second trip to make sure nothing gets spilled or dropped.

When you return, there are only two open seats: one right next to Rey and one right next to Poe. Finn had taken the large chair, and looked all too smug about it. You narrow your eyes at him, with a meaning only he knows, before seating yourself next to Poe.

Despite the fact that you felt like your heart was about to beat out of your chest, you really had a great night. The movie marathon started with a mindless comedy, giving you all the opportunity to joke and talk without worrying about missing plot points, and then progressed onto childhood favorites, movies with low production value but high nostalgia factor.

You must have fallen asleep, because you come to with your head on Poe’s shoulder and your legs stretched out onto what should be Rey’s body.

“Where’d everyone go?” You ask sleepily, reluctantly pulling away from Poe and his warm body.

“They all went to bed.” Even with the faint light coming through the windows, you can see that he has that soft little smile on his face again.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you up.”

“It’s alright, really.”

“You should have just woken me up or pushed me off.”

“You looked all peaceful and comfortable, I couldn’t do that to you.”

And you were.

That was probably the best sleep you’ve had in months, and Poe’s shoulders were surprisingly comfortable. If it were up to you, you would stay on the couch and sleep with your head resting on his shoulder all night. And Poe would probably let you.

But, you would never actually do that, so you stand and stretch and yawn, regrettably making your way to your own bed.

“Goodnight, Poe. Thanks for letting me nap on you.”

“Anytime.”

If he was serious, you would absolutely take him up on that offer.

Still, you make your way to your room and all but collapse onto the bed, barely pulling up the covers before you’re asleep.

——

The rest of the trip passes much like the first two days: you spend most of your day on the beach, swimming and playing around on the sand, only going back to the house for meals. Sometimes, you’d stay in and play board games or watch a movie after dinner, and sometimes you’d hear back outside for a fire and stargazing.

And, by the end of the week, you have a nice little collection of water colors. You have plenty of the lake, and a few of the kitchen, and tons of your smiling friends. You even woke up early one morning to paint the sunset, and it was so beautiful you wished you did it more.

On the morning of the last day, you all decided to switch it up a little.

You all got dressed, and headed into the little town to grab breakfast at the local diner, a family restaurant that’s been open for over 50 years. It’s small, and painted a bright, happy yellow. You imagine it would be packed on the weekends, with tourists and locals alike.

“These might give those other pancakes a run for their money,” you say to Poe, shoving the last bit of your meal onto your fork. He sends a wink your way, and Finn has that smug look on his face again. You simply roll your eyes, and savor your last bite of food.

After you’ve all finished your breakfast and sat and talked for a while, you decide to take a walk through the town. The whole place feels oddly nostalgic, even though you’ve never been before. It feels homey and safe, and you wonder how much of that feeling is due to your company.

You spend the morning leisurely walking and wandering through the small shops. It’s an interesting little town, and you almost wish you had spent more time there. But, you were just as happy with all of the time you spent at the lake.

By the time you return to the house, it’s deep into the afternoon and far past lunch time. So, you quickly whip together some sandwiches, taking everyone’s preferences into account.

You all decide to eat on the back porch, soaking up as much time outside as possible. Afterwards, you change and head down to the lake one more time, trying to get as much as possible out of your last day.

As you try to avoid getting splashed by Finn, you can’t help but think about how lucky you are to be surrounded by people who love you and who love being with you. You’ve never really had a place to belong before, but now you have four amazing people who you know would do anything for you.

If you think about it too much, it’s practically impossible not to get emotional, so instead you change your focus to enjoying your last few hours here and getting Finn back for how much he’s splashed you this past week.

As much as you all wish you could stay outside forever, you have to start packing up, planning on making the drive back home after dinner. You take as much time as possible drying off, laying in the sun and soaking up the last bits of your vacation, before trudging back to the house to shower and get ready to leave.

In your mind, nothing is as nice as a vacation shower, after you’ve spent all day in the sun, spending time with your favorite people. Still, reluctantly, you need to dry off and start repacking, despite how much you wish you could stand under that stream of water forever.

Really, you want to stay in that house forever, with your friends and an endless summer mindset. You don’t want to go back home to your lonely apartment or go back to work, to have to deal with all of the problems of real life again. Mostly, you don’t want to go back to seeing your friends only once or twice a week, when you’ve grown accustomed to them being the first and last thing you see every day.

So, you take as long as possible packing up your things, trying to prolong your peaceful fantasy. But, all good things must come to an end, and even with all of your procrastinating, your bags are in the living room within an hour.

And, surprisingly, you’re the first one packed. You imagine, or hope, that your friends are having the same dilemma you are, trying to stretch out these last hours as much as possible.

You use your extra time to make dinner using up all of the leftovers and fresh food that you have, to try and reduce your waste as much as possible. While that cooks, you empty out the pantry and divide the remaining snacks between the five of you, something to keep you all from getting too cranky on the ride home.

Poe is the first one down, and slides himself into his usual counter spot after placing his bags next to yours. Finn follows almost immediately after him, with Rey and Rose coming down a little while later. All that matters is that dinner is still warm.

Despite how you wish to slow it down, time moves on and your departure gets closer and closer.

“We should do this again soon,” you say as you all do a final sweep of the house and the backyard for any items you missed early, and it’s a little embarrassing how much you hope they’ll agree.

“Definitely,” Rose responds, squeezing your hand briefly and shooting you a knowing smile that seems to lift a weight off of your shoulders, especially when the rest of the group agrees.

You all pile back into the car, returning to the same spots you occupied on your drive down. This time, however, everyone is much more talkative, and you watch as the sky fades from a vibrant blue to red and orange and pink before settling as a deep navy.

There’s music playing softly on the radio, and the sounds of your friends’ laughter fills the car and your heart. If you could freeze one moment in time forever, you would choose this one. You’re carefree and full of life in a way you’ve never felt before.

As much as you're disappointed about leaving your vacation behind, you don’t feel nearly as sad as you thought you would. That’s practically impossible to do when you’re surrounded by the people you love most, their happiness infectious.

The drive goes by much quicker than you’d like, and soon Finn is parking outside of your apartment and you’re shouting your goodbyes to everyone except Poe. He slipped out of the car and insisted on helping you bring your bags up, and you’re so eager to spend more time in the presence of your friends that you accept.

“Thanks for inviting me to come along, I had a lot of fun,” you say when you make it to your door, key in hand.

“I’m glad you could make it,” he says and smiles in a way that leaves you breathless, “I had a lot of fun too.”

You feel bashful, in the same way you felt talking to your crush in first grade. It’s a juvenile, childish feeling, but there’s a part of you that loves it, that revels in this feeling that reminds you of simpler times.

“Well, I shouldn’t keep them waiting,” he says, but he looks like he’d be content standing in front of your door all night.

“Thanks for helping me with my bags.”

“No problem.”

You’re not sure what prompted you, but next thing you knew you had placed a soft, quick kiss to Poe’s cheek, leaving him looking slightly stunned.

“Goodnight, Poe.” You don’t wait for a response, unlocking your door and hauling your bags inside as quickly as possible. You don’t hear him respond through the door.

Tags: @aellynera @disabledameron @dailyreverie @stevenngrant @creatively-analytical @poopirate @luckynachos @tiquinntheghost @ghostsongwriter-22 @fallinallinmendes @sabxism

AHHHHH

this is such a perfect ending to a perfect story!!

Team ‘Weekend Trip to Asgard’

Relationship: Loki x Fem!reader (SFW)

Summary: When Bruce invited you to a quick weekend getaway, you’d hardly expected your destination to be Asgard. Just like you’d hardly expected to be accompanied by two gods – one of whom you’re convinced hates your guts. But who would have thought that the God of Mischief has a thing for flowers, a talent for reciting Shakespeare, and knowledge of all the best places for stargazing? Certainly not you.

But in a weekend filled with sunny fields and boisterous feasts, with accidental skinny dipping and drunken magic tricks, you would begin to realize all the different ways Loki could surprise you.

Word count: 5.6k

A/N: Thank you all so much for your support!! So many nice things have been said in the notes and I’m so glad that this fic has resonated with people in the way that it has. There’s always a potential that I may continue this story; I really do love these characters, though I don’t have anything specific planned at the moment. But regardless, thank you all for reading. It’s been lots of fun. Love you all <3

Also on Ao3

Previous chapter Masterlist

Chapter 11 Final

Horses were waiting for you at the edge of the Bifrost bridge. Immediately you could tell that Yrsa wasn’t there. The realization, though not entirely unexpected, made you a little sad. You had hoped to give her one last goodbye before leaving Asgard, knowing that you’d probably never see her again.

Despite continuing to insist that he didn’t read your mind, Loki seemed to pick up on exactly what you were thinking. Coming to stand behind you, he placed a subtle hand on your back, giving it a quick and touchingly comforting rub.

“Look at it this way,” the god murmured, leaning in. “She’s probably taking a massive nap right now.”

The sudden and very random thought made you burst out laughing. Loki grinned, pleased with himself.

“I’m being serious! Have you ever seen a horse sleep? When they really get into it, they lay on their sides like a corpse. It’s quite a sight to behold…”

You felt the last of your sadness drain away – alarmingly fast, and without much more than a silly joke from the god, you couldn’t help but note – and you bumped your head against Loki’s shoulder in wordless thanks. He reached around to squeeze your arm before letting go, and you found yourself feeling honored by the open display of affection.

Keep reading

colourful people - s.g/m.s

summary: strangers to friends to lovers with steven grant, and eventually marc spector.

word count: 5k

warnings that slowly descend into disclaimers: canon level violence, angst, threat to reader, blood, fluff, worried!steven, protective!marc (eventually), swearing, hurt/comfort because i cant resist somehow. wound patching so needle, maybe too much dialogue??, made up valuable object with no historical basis for plot, btw title is kinda related to that fanta ad about colourful people bc while i hate capitalist advertising i liked that one, a large serving of plot because i can’t help it, jake hasn’t been acknowledged here (yet), timeline is janked

You met Steven Grant at a bookstore. Fingertips tracing along the weathered spines of the second-hand section, you searched for a copy of your favourite poetry collection. A thrill ran through you when you recognised the white font printed on the spine and you reached out to tip it out of the shelf, only to be met with firm resistance. Tugging again, it persisted.

You followed the top of the book, only to find two fingers gripping onto the same pages on the other side of the shelf. You dipped your head down, looking across the top of the books to meet a pair of curious brown eyes in the aisle opposite. The moment your eyes locked, the hand retracted with a hasty apology. 

“I’m so sorry. You have that one – I’m sure there’s another.” Through the gap above the books, you watched his figure continue down his aisle to the right before you could respond. You closed your parted lips and swiped the book from the shelf, mirroring his movements until you reached the end of the aisle, looking around you to find who the endearing voice belonged to. Turning the corner, you stopped short of walking straight into somebody, clutching the book to your chest. 

His eyes were wide, shoulders tensed with the effort of putting on the brakes, too. He let out a relieved huff as you lowered yourself from the balls of your feet.

“Sorry!” He said, eyes dropping to the book in your grip. “Oh, it’s you!” As soon as the words left his mouth he averted his eyes, as if he were afraid to have embarrassed himself. You chuckled. “You like Marceline Desbordes-Valmore?” If his already sunshiney countenance could get any brighter, it did. “She’s my favourite poet. Been looking for a copy like that for ages. Problem is –” “They’re stupid rare,” you interrupted, looking a little sheepish when he nodded, scratching the back of his neck. “You can take it, you’ve been on the hunt a lot longer than I have,” you smiled. He seemed to recoil at the thought. “Oh, no! You found it fair and square,” he said warmly. You bit your lip for a moment, and to your delight figured out a win-win-win solution

“Tell you what: I’m gonna buy it. But… you could give me your number, so that when I’m done, I can give it to you. Then you keep it, because I have too many books,” you said. The stranger’s eyebrows raised, and he seemed to freeze in place for a second before blinking himself out of it. “Sorry, are you asking– do you…?” You smiled, nodding. “I’m Y/N.”

You left the bookstore with a rare edition of your favourite poems, an uncontainable smile, and a piece of paper slid into the front cover:

I’d love to know your favourite poem.

xxx xxx xxxxx

Steven Grant

ꕥ

He was listed in your contacts as “steven :]”.

You had texted him the name of your favourite poem in the collection. He replied within five minutes.

steven :] 13:43

Mental. Mine, too! 

Soon after that it was coffee dates, picking him up from his work. The first few times you arrived, he insisted on showing you around the exhibits, ancient Egyptian history spilling from his lips and into the space around you. He brought inanimate objects to life with his knowledge and stories of some forgotten legend, his hand ghosting the small of your back while he guided you around. You couldn’t believe he was working in the gift shop and not as a tour guide. 

“And that’s the Ennead. Kind of.” He gestured to a poster advertising the exhibit, and your eyebrows dipped in confusion. “I thought you said there were nine.” His eyes lit up, and he smiled knowingly. “There are. Marketing really mucked it up, didn’t they?” You chuckled and nodded, popping a pink smartie into your mouth. “They should really recruit you, Mister Encyclopaedia,” you said as you both moved on to gaze at the art on the old pottery and vases. “Wouldn’t that be brilliant? Donna, though, already ruled out the tour guide.” He stopped in front of an old pot, depicting Horus in front of some human figures, his chin resting on his thumb and index finger against his nose. “Really? That’s rather rude. Why?” He shrugged. “Condemning me to the role of gift shop-ist forever, I suppose.” 

You frowned. It’s cruel that someone as bright and optimistic as Steven is stuck yearning for a job that’s right under his nose. Your heart ached, and you wordlessly offered him a Smartie as a way to show your sympathy. A purple and red one fell into his hand as he brought them to his mouth and said, “Cheers.”

“You know, Steven, you deserve better,” you said, eyes fixed on Horus’. You could feel the heat of Steven’s own stare as you continued. “You’re so kind, and passionate. You’re a colourful person, I think. The world needs more of those,” you nodded to yourself, another smartie gone. You glanced at the tube in your hand. “Like this,” you finally turned to look at him, raising it slightly. 

His stare was intense, heavy, and your smile faltered momentarily, simultaneous with the skip of your heart, because it was infused with something that you’ve missed. What it was exactly, though, you could only guess. Love, or admiration? Perhaps it was neither, and instead was a deep affection. You hoped it was, as your own affection for Steven rooted itself in your heart, wrapping around tighter with each day you spent with him. 

“I’m a tube of Smarties?” He raised his eyebrow playfully. You smiled brightly, offering him another. “Yep,” you popped your ‘p’, “Bright, colourful, and smart.” 

He chucked to himself, accepting your offer with a renewed twinkle in his eye and deepened laughter lines.

ꕥ

At night, you would lay in bed and text him before you slept, asking how his day was. Some nights he would reply instantly, but more often than not you would wake up to his reply, sent deep during the night. Maybe initially you were a little put out, but he was probably just an early sleeper… or didn’t sleep at all. Vampires don’t sleep.

 Don’t be ridiculous. 

Anything’s possible.

But you had no idea what you had signed up for.   

ꕥ

Steven Grant is a sunset on a summer evening. All warm colours and comfort. He loves you as if there was nothing more precious in his world, because to him, there wasn’t. Occasionally he’ll wonder whether he obviously stares for too long.

 Whether you notice that his lips linger on your forehead for a little longer than necessary when comforting you. Whether you know that your presence in his life was like opening a window to feel the warm summer breeze and to listen to the symphony of birdsong in the trees. 

Do you know that he'd do anything for you?

Following a scorching summer’s day, Steven invited you to his flat for the evening. It was under the guise of meeting Not Gus, his fish, but you both knew that the day in the park together wasn’t nearly long enough. Steven was addictive. Every sound, every touch, every smile left you craving more. And Steven was happy to give it to you, because you were the same to him.

The door clicked shut behind you, and you turned to study the level of security Steven had installed on it. “Are there lots of burglaries around here or something?” You were genuinely curious, casting your eyes to the bookshelves stuffed with new and old copies and experiencing a pang of panic at the thought that they could be damaged by an impolite burglar. “Or something,” Steven engaged one of them before setting his keys down and making his way inside properly. You decided not to ask questions.

It didn’t take long for the thunder to disturb the sky. It began softly, like a bear wondering what’s for dinner. You and Steven settled onto the sofa, watching a romantic comedy that you had already forgotten the name of, because the bowling alley in the sky had opened. 

Maybe thinking of it as some deities knocking over enormous bowling pins should have made it bearable, but it was furious and sudden, the whip of lightning across the sky pulling your vision towards it automatically. Unconsciously, you settled a little more into Steven, who lifted his arm over the back of the sofa to give you room to do so. 

“You alright, love?” 

His voice was muffled, sat at the back of your mind like sand settling in water. The sky thundered again; your bones seemed to vibrate with the force of it, the building seemed to shake. A poke to your upper arm. “Hmm?” You turned back to Steven, who was wearing a concerned frown. Clearing your throat, you nodded, “Yeah, good. Great, good. Yes. What?” 

He made an unconvinced hum while adrenaline saturated each cell in your body, your nervous system went into overdrive. A whip of lightning cracked through the sky, and the following rumble of thunder mirrored the harsh thumping in your chest. You swallowed thickly, clenching your jaw.

Steven’s eyes flickered between your shaken state and the window, before he stood and crossed the room in a few paces, drawing the curtains shut before sinking back into the cushions next to you. He didn’t hesitate to pull you back into his side, knowing that you were trying to hide the storm whirling inside of you. He pressed his lips to your forehead, lingering slightly longer than necessary. His grip on you tightened with every roll of thunder when the adrenaline started to incite shakes in you, and he turned the volume up on the TV. 

“It’s alright. You’re alright,” he said in a low voice next to your ear. This tone, his voice, soft as freshly laundered blankets, enveloped you in its warmth and safety. This was Steven, tender and loving, easy to indulge in and even easier to love in return.

You melted into him, matching your breathing the slow rise and fall of his chest. Still aware of the stiffness in your bones, Steven began talking about Horus, the deity of the weather.

“Clearly, he can be a real prick sometimes,” he muttered into your hair, drawing pointless patterns over the fabric on your thigh before returning to his monologue detailing every little part of Horus’ legend. 

ꕥ

The day he officially became your boyfriend was unplanned.

“If you were a Smartie, which one would you be?” Steven asked you, head on your lap as he lay horizontally across a bench in Hyde Park. The fountain in view flowed steadily, with children on the rim sticking their hands into the cool pool and splashing each other, waterdrops refracting the sunlight. A man stood at the edge furthest away from you, flicking a penny into the clear waters.

“If I was a Smartie, I’d be one of the quirky ones that never made it off the factory line,” you said. “Don’t say that!” You laughed at his involuntary gasp. 

“We’re thinking too small with little Smarties, anyway. If you were a book, which one would you be?” Steven sat up, leaning comfortably against the back of the bench.

“I’d be the book that’s sitting on my desk at home, with your see-through post-its stuck on every other page. The Desbordes-Valmore copy that got me your number,” he said after a moment of thought.

It bloomed, then, your affection for him. Buds burst in pinks and reds, each petal saturated with its dizzying heat. It was addictive. His smile, his laugh; the cadence of his voice was like nectar to your ears. 

“Oh,” you said, a little breathlessly. His eyes widened in a panic at your silence. “Sorry, if that was an overstep. I really like you, you know. Meeting you was like, the best day of my life, so it just came out –” “Steven.” You stopped him gently. “I really like you, too.” “Oh,” he breathed. “Bloody hell. You do?” You nodded, an uncontainable smile appearing on your face. “Can I kiss you?” “Please.”

ꕥ

Marc Spector stands his ground with a determination Steven would admire, if he wasn’t being an idiot about it. The roots of his wariness wind and tangle deep into his psyche, but like a tree, the bark on the outside is only protecting the sap on the inside.

It’s why he never allows Steven to give him the body when he’s with you, why he convinces Steven that you don’t need to know about him. Steven can finally have a normal life. One without Khonshu bothering him, without worrying about his next victim, or if there was going to be a next victim.

He wasn’t afraid of you hurting Steven; every action you took showed that you cared deeply for him. He was afraid that he was going to ruin it all, his callus countenance a contrast to Steven’s welcoming embrace. 

Steven told you about Marc, once. Though, not by name. And he left out the whole superhero part. No, all you knew was that Steven had an alter. And by the looks of it, he wasn’t so interested in meeting you. 

The white vigilante sweeping across rooftops against the night sky became less of an urban legend when you began to see him with your own eyes. At night, when you stepped off the bus you would sometimes see him on top of the nearby buildings. Often, you wondered what sort of crimes he would get snarled up in. 

You didn’t see the vigilante tonight, on your way to the hole in the wall antique shop near your flat. Recently, your curiosity had been piqued after a friend had told you the tale of a collection of poetry that held a valuable secret: each poem contained a clue with a promise that something valuable lay at the end of the trail. It was an unsolved riddle, which ignited your curiosity: your friend knew the owner of the shop, and it had only recently been acquired. It seemed that the seller had found it in his attic, and with no desire to read poetry, wanted to be rid of it. 

You thought it would be the perfect gift for Steven: for no occasion, just for the sake of it. Within hours you set out to buy it. Not usually a fan of name dropping, you made an exception in this case as your friend cut the price in half for you. The smell of the store was antique, ashy; it was clear that some of these items had been collecting dust for years.

“Doubt you’ll have any luck finding Sekhmet’s periapt, darlin’,” The owner said, as if trying to dissuade you from buying it. It was in remarkably good condition for something so old, as if it hadn’t been touched for decades. Maybe it hadn’t been. 

“Folks ‘ave been trying much longer than you, ‘ave died for it.” “Died?”

“Do you know the glory waitin’ for someone who finds a treasure that heals all ills? Sekhmet, the Goddess of healing… but also the Goddess of disease. Didja know that? In the wrong hands, we’re looking at something...” “Bad,” you finished for him, suddenly concerned. You couldn’t tell whether his story was a myth, or whether you should think twice before purchasing it. Could it really provoke biological warfare? Surely not. “Bad,” he nodded.

You glanced at the white haired man, who fixed you with an intense stare, waiting to see what choice you made. Steven didn’t have to know about the periapt. Leaving it here would just increase the possibility of it falling into the wrong hands.

The pages crinkled happily as you turned them, paragraphs of carefully calculated prose jumping out at you. 

“I’ll take it, thanks.”

ꕥ

You left the book on your desk before flopping onto your bed, exhausted from your day yet far too awake to even think about sleep. Staring at the legendary book, you wondered whether it was all true. If you had learned anything from Indiana Jones, it was that malicious people were always just around the corner, their unquenchable thirst for power leading them to do unspeakable things to seize it. A buzz from your phone startled you, the sound seeming much more urgent as it contrasted with the silence of the room.

steven <3, 22:03 Where are you right now?

You frowned at the unexpected message.

you, 22:04 at home, are you okay?

steven <3, 22:04 Fine

The three grey dots appeared, before disappearing. Slightly concerned, you sat up properly, heartbeat incrementally increasing as the seconds passed and Steven didn’t reply.

steven <3, 22:06 Please tell me that you don’t have the map to Sekhmet’s periapt.

Your gaze shifted to the poetry collection on your desk. How on earth did he know? Your heart sank a little at the idea of ruining the surprise, but it wasn’t worth lying to him.

you, 22:07 um

you, 22:07 how did you know?  it was supposed to be a surprise for you :(

read 22:07

You gripped your phone a little tighter, the silence prompting you to make your way over to your desk and picked up the aged book, running your thumb over the irregular edges of the pages. You bit your lip, glancing at the window, before hearing the buzz of your phone again.

steven <3, 22:09 Bugger.

you, 22:09 what’s wrong?

steven <3,  22:10 Can you meet me at Hyde Park, near the fountain? 

steven <3, 22:10 Don’t forget the book

You involuntarily shake your head at your phone in confusion, concerned for Steven but overwhelmed by curiosity. Securing the book in your purse, you slipped on your shoes, grabbed a jacket, and picked up your keys. Another buzz.

steven <3, 22:13 And don’t be followed, yeah?

Your steps are quick but heavy through the hallways of your building, adrenaline threading your muscles with lead.

you, 22:14 steven, you’re scaring me a little bit. why would somebody be following me?

The night was calm. You navigated the streets easily, glad that the walk was only about fifteen minutes at most. But every stone accidentally kicked and every cat mewling in the nearby alleyways urged you to walk quicker. Clutching your phone tightly and looking over your shoulder every now and again soothed you slightly, but you were focused on finding Steven, and asking him what has got him so worked up.

You would have noticed the figure turning onto the street behind you if you weren’t typing out another text to Steven. When you felt a hand tangle into the fabric of your shoulder, your finger reflexively hit send:

you, 22:20 you’re okay though, rigfh

You were pulled into a side street, a heavy presence at your back that shoved you into the wall, sandwiching your bag between your hips and it. 

“Don’t fucking move, don’t fucking scream.”

 Something cold slipped under your shirt and pressed against the skin of your lower back. You shifted your head against the brick to alleviate the sting, but you were only able to move millimetres. The wall must have had to be shaking with the force of your heart beating against it. 

“Why did you have to get involved with Marc Spector, huh? A sweet thing like you?” Warm breath at the back of your neck, hot and dense.

“Who’s Marc Spector?” You asked, voice strained. He laughed nastily. “Don’t be daft. We can both smell bullshit. Where is it?” 

Stunned, you tried to process his words. You presumed the “it” he was referring to was the book, but you didn’t know anybody named Marc Spector; they couldn’t possibly be related.

Play dumb?

“Where’s what?” “Fucking–” He jostled you into the wall again, the wet heat of his breath appearing at your cheek. “If you don’t tell me where it is, I swear to God,” his fist tightened against your back, and a sliver of white hot heat grew under your shirt, across the top of your hip. You stifled a pained groan, realising that any movement to free yourself would drive his knife deeper into the laceration. “You’ll what?” You said through gritted teeth. “You don’t want to know, sweet thing,” his voice was laced with a sort of ominous joy, and warmth trickled over the skin of your hip. “Last chance. Where–”

His weight was ripped away before the man could take another breath. You exhaled in relief, sending your hand straight to the source of your bleeding. With your other hand on the wall, you turned to see the white-caped vigilante himself, throwing punch after punch into the face of your attacker. The sickening crunch of bone twisted your stomach over itself, and blood streamed down the lower half of his face. Although the sight sent a loathsome mixture of nausea and relief through you, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the ruthless scene.

When the man became less and less responsive, though, you knew better than to allow yourself to drown in the desire for revenge. You inhaled deeply.

“I think you got him!” You said, voice beginning to shake from the concoction of adrenaline and pain in your veins. As soon as you finished speaking, your saviour froze, releasing the man and letting him fall to the floor. His cape billowed out behind him as he turned, bright white eyes as intimidating as they were comforting. Approaching you in a few steps, he said, “Are you hurt?”

In London, an American accent was furthest from your expectations, but you didn’t have it in you to care. You just nodded, pulling away your hand and cringing when you saw blood staining your hands, glistening in the limited light of the street. “A bit, yeah.” His breath seemed to hitch in his throat, but he cleared it before you could decide.

“Bastard. You’re gonna be alright,” he said, calmly but firmly, hands gently lifting your shirt to see the wound. “Shut up, it’s fine.” You blinked. “I didn’t say anything.” “Not you.” He kicked the knife away.

You swallowed at the edge in his tone, wincing slightly when he guided your hand back over the wound with a wad of fabric secured underneath it. At your sharp intake of breath, the mask dissolved, uncovering a familiar face laced with concern and worry. “Steven?” You asked incredulously, relief flooding through you as you found yourself with the only person you could seek comfort from. Tears of relief filled your eyes. Steven shook his head, cleared his throat, and looked away. “Not Steven. I’m Marc.” “You’re–ouch– Marc? Marc Spector?” He nodded, his attention once again on your wound after you flinched. “We gotta get to a hospital.” He wound an arm around you, hand replacing yours to keep pressure on the bleeding.

“Do we have to? Hospitals make me queasy.” You groaned as he swept an arm underneath your knees to pull you into his chest. The fabric of his suit was soft against your cheek, his grip firm. “Hurts.” He rolled his jaw, looking out into the main street, the streetlight casting deep shadows across his features. “I know… Alright, hold on. We’re going home.”

ꕥ

‘Home’ was the familiar space of Steven’s apartment, Not Gus swimming happily in his tank. Marc set you down on your side, and before you could blink the suit unravelled from his body, leaving him in Steven’s casual get-up. He disappeared from your view for a moment, coming back with a first aid kit. 

“Talk to me,” he said, removing your hand from the wound that had stopped oozing blood. “About what?” “Anything. Let me handle this.”

The cool sting of the antiseptic made you grimace, causing a twitch in Marc’s eyebrows. “How’d you know–” You sucked in a breath through your teeth as his surprisingly gentle fingers dabbed the edges of the laceration. “-- where I was?” Marc allowed himself a small smile. “Steven wouldn’t shut up about your typo. We were heading to your apartment – this is gonna hurt – when we found you.” The needle pierced your skin.

While stitching your side, Marc left out the tale of his own concern. The way he was already planning to check on you no matter if Steven was worried or not. (But of course, he was: pacing up and down the path spiralling because you never made a typo.) The way he had admired you, listened to Steven’s lovesick ramblings in total accordance.

Or even the way his stomach filled with lead when he saw the stranger on top of you, blood staining your clothes and the scent of danger suspended in the air. You liked Steven, not him, right? 

“Sorry,” he murmured when a particularly sharp pinch sent your hand flying to grab his wrist. The adrenaline was diluted now, and the pain became harder to ignore. “‘S okay,” you released him after taking a moment to catch your breath. “You’re doing good.” 

A beat.

“Did you want to meet me?” His eyes met yours and his hands froze. He hesitated; perhaps if you weren’t flooded with pain he would have had it in him to lie. Say that there was never a right time, or something. “Of course I did,” he said while tying the knot in the suture, ensuring that it wasn’t too loose or too tight. The slight crease between his eyebrows and the narrowing of his eyes while he focused on his task pressed him into silence. He dressed the wound with practised fingers and helped you to sit up. You didn’t respond, chewing on his honesty. 

“Is that good?” Marc asked, eyes sweeping over you one more time. “Yeah, thanks. So, what are we gonna do about the book?” You asked. Marc carefully sat next to you, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He dragged a hand over his face. “We are not doing anything. I am gonna deal with it. Go to sleep; Steven will be here when you wake up. Where is it?” He looked around the room in search of the object.

You frowned. “Marc. I bought it in the first place– it isn’t fair to dump this problem on you. Let me take responsibility.” He was shaking his head before you had even finished speaking. 

“That’s not gonna fly. It’s too risky, and you’re already hurt, and Steven would never forgive me if–” “We don’t have to figure it out now,” You offered, picking up on the rising volume of his voice. He shook his head vigorously, as if shaking out all the bad ideas. “I-hm,” his thinking face would be mistaken for a scowl if you didn’t know any better. “Why don’t we sleep on it? They won’t like, reconstruct their entire plan overnight. Tomorrow, we’ll talk. Steven tells me you’ve been on some pretty insane adventures before, right? That was you?”“Something like that.” “Okay, then.”

ꕥ

Steven woke you up with a cup of tea and a kiss to your forehead.

“Oh God, you’re alright?” His hands were on your shoulders, one slid up to hold the side of your neck while his eyes swept across your face. You covered it with yours, studying his panic-laced features. You smiled, cupping his jaw and pulling his face towards you, planting a kiss on the tip of his nose and then to his lips. “Marc did a great job,” you said, patting your side confidently. “I hope I get to see him more.” “I think you will,” Steven assured you with a kiss at your temple, before moving to his desk for research. 

Maybe you still had the problem of the periapt, but Marc's presence soothed you, and your adoration for him and Steven would surely grow.

Team ‘Weekend Trip to Asgard’

Relationship: Loki x Fem!reader (SFW)

Summary: When Bruce invited you to a quick weekend getaway, you’d hardly expected your destination to be Asgard. Just like you’d hardly expected to be accompanied by two gods – one of whom you’re convinced hates your guts. But who would have thought that the God of Mischief has a thing for flowers, a talent for reciting Shakespeare, and knowledge of all the best places for stargazing? Certainly not you.

But in a weekend filled with sunny fields and boisterous feasts, with accidental skinny dipping and drunken magic tricks, you would begin to realize all the different ways Loki could surprise you.

Word count: 7.3k

Content warning: mentions of blood, anxiety

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Chapter 10

The walk back to the blanket was pleasant in a way you’d never experienced before. Loki seemed… content – a fact that, in turn, made you content. His more positive emotions so easily spread to you, as if your soul fed off of him whenever he was happy or pleased – or feeling particularly cheeky. 

Whatever it was, you felt it as much as he did. It should have been odd, really, how much of him you were able to infer by just behind near him. You would have suspected much differently from the literal God of Lies, a title he continued to so kindly remind you of. But, to you, Loki was like an open book. You wondered if he did that on purpose; if he chose to let you in, or if it was something that had happened as accidentally for him as it did for you. Or maybe you were completely misunderstanding what was going on – reading too much into what you thought was there. 

Keep reading

Team ‘Weekend Trip to Asgard’

Relationship: Loki x Fem!reader (SFW)

Summary: When Bruce invited you to a quick weekend getaway, you’d hardly expected your destination to be Asgard. Just like you’d hardly expected to be accompanied by two gods – one of whom you’re convinced hates your guts. But who would have thought that the God of Mischief has a thing for flowers, a talent for reciting Shakespeare, and knowledge of all the best places for stargazing? Certainly not you.

But in a weekend filled with sunny fields and boisterous feasts, with accidental skinny dipping and drunken magic tricks, you would begin to realize all the different ways Loki could surprise you.

Word count: 8.5k

A/N: I work with horses as my real-life job (lol), so apologies for all the random and unimportant horse facts in this chapter, I just couldn’t help myself. Also I’m convinced Loki is a horse girl, sooooo…  Content warning: talk of shitty parents, some mildly suggestive themes, take a shot every time you read the word ‘dick’ (just kidding, don’t do that lol)

Also on Ao3

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Chapter 8

You couldn’t have been asleep for very long. In fact, you swore you’d just nodded off when someone was tugging on your shoulder. It took your body a minute to even register the touch, considering how desperately you were trying to regain your sleep, but after that minute, you couldn’t ignore it any longer. 

Blinking your eyes open, you were startled to find a certain God of Mischief staring at you from a few inches away. 

“What the–”

“Sh, shhhh sh,” he put a finger to his lips, then reached out as if he was going to do the same to you but decided against it. 

“Get up – come on. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“Oh Lord,” you muttered as he helped – more like dragged – you to your feet. “Why am I suddenly afraid.”

“What, you are?” he stopped, seeming a bit wounded. 

“No, Loki,” you sighed, smiling weakly. “Just– what time is it, anyway?”

“Mm, an hour or so before sunrise. What’s that got to do with anything?”

“I don’t know… What’s the surprise?”

“Oh, right. Come on, come on,” he once again began guiding you out of bed. 

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Team ‘Weekend Trip to Asgard’

Relationship: Loki x Fem!reader (SFW)

Summary: When Bruce invited you to a quick weekend getaway, you’d hardly expected your destination to be Asgard. Just like you’d hardly expected to be accompanied by two gods – one of whom you’re convinced hates your guts. But who would have thought that the God of Mischief has a thing for flowers, a talent for reciting Shakespeare, and knowledge of all the best places for stargazing? Certainly not you.

But in a weekend filled with sunny fields and boisterous feasts, with accidental skinny dipping and drunken magic tricks, you would begin to realize all the different ways Loki could surprise you.

Word count: 4.9k

Content warning: drinking, discussions involving murder (just teasing/joking, but still wanted to give a heads up)

Also on Ao3

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Chapter 7

The night wore on and was full of dancing, good company, and perhaps a bit more alcohol than you had planned. Regardless, you were having a great time. You danced with Bruce, and then Thor wanted “a turn with the Lady of the evening,” as he had put it. You’d rolled your eyes, unable to stop grinning like a fool as he led you out onto the dancefloor with more grace than you’d thought he was capable of in his state of drunkenness. 

As he spun you around, dipping you dramatically – which had you holding onto his forearms in a death grip – you took the opportunity to tease him relentlessly about his relationship with Bruce, who he of course claimed was no more than “a friend from work.”

It was adorable and you told him as much. 

Valkyrie never did return Loki to your group – probably because you had all split up, either to take turns dancing or get more to drink – but you did see him floating along the edges of the party. 

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Hii! Idk if you have written that before (imm sorry if you did) but could I request a fic with Poe where the reader is really stressed and Poe helps them calm down? Thanks:)

hi!! sorry it took me a bit to get to this! here you go <3

Pairing: Poe Dameron x gn!reader (college!au)

Word count: 679

taglist: @staarshines @bucky-j-barnes @obiwns @userpoe

School is, to put it simply, kicking your ass.

Down a flight of stairs.

Into a brick wall. 

You find yourself tonight, like most other nights, holed up in your dorm room. You sit at your desk, a various assortment of papers and textbooks strewn about the space that wasn’t occupied by your open laptop. The sound of the keyboard clicking under your fingers is the only one in your otherwise-silent dorm room. At times like this, when you’re unable to stop yourself from working well into the obscene hours of the morning, you wish you could resist the tendencies you had to perfect every little detail. 

It isn’t news to you that doing what you so often do - writing papers until your eyes burn and your fingertips ache - isn’t good for you. 

You grab the pen you’ve stowed behind your ear and jot down a few bullet points of information, glancing back and forth between your writing and the book splayed open next to it to make sure you get the details right. 

Sighing, you let the pen fall from your fingers. You lean back in your chair, biting the inside of your lip as a wave of anxiety crests and crashes over you. You shouldn’t be worried, realistically. This paper isn’t due until next week. But the rigid schedule you’ve locked yourself into dictates that you need to finish this by tomorrow morning so that you can get a month-early jumpstart on another project, and if you couldn’t do that, then you wouldn’t be able to-

“Y/n? You in there?” 

The sound of a voice on the other side of your door pulls you out of your state of panic. 

You stretch as you stand, joints groaning in protest as you make your way across the room and open the door to find someone smiling at you from the hallway.

“Poe?” you ask blearily. “What’re you doing here?” You spare a glance down at your watch, eyes widening. “It’s almost two in the morning.” He sighs, shaking his head. 

“You know why.”

“I can promise you, I don’t,” you retort, pulling a smirk from his lips. 

“How long have you been working on that paper?”

“Not that long…” Your words fade away as you survey the concern on his face. You sigh. “Too long,” you admit, and he smiles sympathetically. “I could turn it in, but I just…It’s not good enough.”

“I read it over this evening after dinner, it was perfect,” he supplies, offering you another smile. You sigh, nodding. 

“Thanks.” When you don’t say anything else, opting to pick at your nails instead, Poe steps into your dorm, quietly shutting the door behind him. 

You stare at him in confusion as he flops down onto the small couch next to your bed and pulls out his laptop. 

“What are you doing?”

“If you’re going to work yourself into a stupor, I’m not going to let you do it alone,” he says simply as you make your way over and sit down next to him.

An emotion you slowly identify as gratitude floods your chest, and you can’t help the tears that prick at the corners of your eyes. Poe looks over at you, face crumpling as he notices. He shuts his laptop and tosses it onto your bed, wasting no time in pulling you into an embrace. 

“It’s just so much,” you croak out, throat constricting as you start to cry in earnest. Poe presses a kiss to your hair, tightening his hold on you.

“I know,” he says quietly, lifting a hand to rest on the back of your head, pushing it down into the crook of his neck. “I’m right here with you. You’re not alone, I’m right here.”

You bury your face in the collar of his sweater. You’ve been keeping everything - every bad grade, every sleepless night, every failed attempt - bottled up for the majority of the semester - for months. You knew it was bound to come to a head at some point. 

You’re glad Poe’s here when it does.

OMG SO SO SO CUTE!! i'm so excited for the upcoming chapters oh my godddd

The Group Chat

Chapter 5 of You Are In Love

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: modern!Poe Dameron x reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.1k

Author’s Note: sorry this took me forever and a half to write, now that it’s summer I’ll have more time to write and stock up on fics lol

You wake up groggy and dry-mouthed, and it’s closer to the afternoon than it is to the morning, but you’re happy. Despite the starting throb of an oncoming headache and the slightly sticky feeling of your skin, you feel good.

You’d flopped into bed and fallen asleep around 3 AM, and you still managed to get a full eight hours. Reluctantly, you leave your little cocoon of a bed, and trudge to your kitchen to get some fresh water after pulling on a pair of slippers to combat the cold of your tile flooring.

You stand in your kitchen, admiring the way the midmorning sunlight makes little rainbows across your tile floor, as you swallow some Tylenol, just to combat that headache you can feel building already.

Despite how much you wish you could just stay in your pajamas and messy hair, languish on that couch and watch shitty TV all day, you know you need to shower. You feel a little sticky and just generally gross from not showering the night before, remnants of your eyeliner and mascara smudged around your eyes.

So, you wander back towards your bedroom and grab the comfiest clothes you can find and stuff your phone on top of the bundle before heading to your bathroom. Despite your reluctance, as soon as you step into the shower, you never want to leave. You want to stay wrapped up in the steam for the rest of the day, even though you know that’s not possible.

Still, you stay in the shower for far longer than is necessary, and you take your time getting out and drying off before slipping into your comfy clothes. When you check your phone, you notice you have a text from Finn.

Can I bring you coffee? As payment for the coolest mural ever?

You smile before responding. You’d already told Finn and Poe that they didn’t need to pay you back, in any form, but they both keep trying to pay you back in such small, almost inconspicuous ways you can’t help but to laugh.

I thought the free drinks were the payment?

That was from Poe, this is from me :)

Do you need my address?

Nope, Rose already gave it to me. I was going to bring you the coffee no matter what you said, I already bought it.

That makes you laugh even more. With the short time you’ve known him, and all of the stories you’d heard from Rose, this is perfectly fitting for Finn’s personality. He’s probably the sweetest person you’d ever met, but you’ve heard his sass when he bickers with Poe from the conversations you’ve overheard while painting. He’s just like Rose in that regard: an absolute sweetheart with a definite feisty side.

Normally, you’d rush around and try to clean up, make your space presentable after you’d neglected it during your busy week, but you can’t find it in you to care, and you don’t think Finn will either. You just water your plants and wait for Finn while lounging on the couch, old sit-com reruns playing on the TV.

When there’s a knock on your door, you slide over in your cozy socks and open it to reveal Finn, coffee and pastries in hand.

“You’re my favorite person ever, you know that?” You say in greeting, opening the door wider for him to enter.

“Yeah, I know,” he responds with a cheeky grin, one that you can’t help but to match.

“Your apartment is… the coolest.” Finn says, setting down the drinks and food onto your kitchen table, slowly turning in a circle to take it all in.

“Thanks, I like to think it’s pretty cool, but it’s nice knowing people agree.”

The two of you chat as you eat the food he brought, which you thanked him profusely for.

“This is perfect, by the way.” You say, taking another sip of your coffee.

“I had to ask Rose for your order, I didn’t want to get it wrong.”

“Well, I appreciate it.” And you honestly do. It’s nice, and a little strange, to have friends who care so much about you that they want all of the little details to be perfect.

You give him a short tour after you’re done eating, the two of you lingering in your second bedroom that you’d converted into your studio.

“All of this shit is amazing, honestly.”

“You keep saying that.”

“It keeps being true.” That makes you laugh, a real, true, head-thrown-back, type of laugh.

“You sound just like Poe.”

Finn groans good naturedly, before responding, “Please never say that again.” The two of you laugh some more, and then he adds, “So you and Poe are getting along?”

“Yes…” You ask, raising an eyebrow in confusion, “should we not be, for some reason?”

“No, no! I just meant… he’s great, you’re great.”

“Ok?”

“Do you know what I mean?” You have to laugh at that, because you think you know what he’s trying to say, but he isn’t really making any sense.

“Maybe? But please explain.”

Finn takes a deep breath, as if he’s about to launch into a long winded explanation, but instead all he says is, “You’re both great.”

“We’ve established that.”

“And you could be great… together.”

“Oh.”

You do get what he means. And you can’t say that you hadn’t thought about it, especially after last night. But you can’t let yourself get your hopes up about Poe liking you in that way, because you’re honestly just so happy to have him as a friend you could never imagine jeopardizing that.

But, you know Finn would never say anything to you unless Poe had mentioned something or if he felt like Poe acted differently around you.

“You don’t need to believe me, but next time you’re with him, just… pay attention to the way he acts.”

“Alright,” you say, and Finn seems content with that.

You wonder if that was the only reason he came to see you, and for a minute, you’re worried that it was. That he only came to visit you because he had to deliver some convoluted secret message. But, after you finish showing him around your little studio, the two of you settle onto the couch to watch some shitty sit-com reruns you had playing earlier while you talk and laugh together.

Finn leaves right before you eat lunch, which with your late start to the morning is around 3 PM. After he leaves, you plop back onto the couch with some reheated leftovers, ready to dive back into those comfort reruns.

You spend the next couple hours just like that: sprawled across your couch while your old favorite shows play in the background as you snack and stare at your phone, responding to texts and scrolling through social media.

You place your phone down for a few minutes when you feel it vibrate against your chest, causing you to pick it up again and see a notification from Poe. You want to ignore the butterflies you feel in your chest.

Just wanted to thank you again for the mural. And for accompanying me on my late-night diner run :)

You feel a small, unconscious smile growing on your face as you read his message before you respond.

I had a lot of fun! Those pancakes definitely met the hype

You cringe a bit as you type that, but then you remember that you’re not trying to impress Poe. He’s your friend, so you’re texting him the same way you text all your friends.

I’m glad they met your standards

For a while, those three black dots that represent Poe typing appear and disappear, with you waiting anxiously for him to send a response. But, you never get a response from Poe.

Instead, you get added into a group chat with him, Finn, Rey, and Rose that’s been named Lakehouse 2k22. You feel an odd mixture of joy and nerves bubbling in your chest.

You’d heard about these little vacations ever since you and Rose had become friends, and she had always invited you. You always turned her down, because it seemed too awkward to go on a vacation with people you barely know.

But now, you’d been invited for real.

As sad as it sounds, you haven’t gone on a vacation with just a group of friends before. You’d been with your family, and when you were in college you started to take solo trips so you could explore and do whatever you wanted, wherever you wanted.

But you’d always wanted to go on a trip with your previously nonexistent friend group. And now you could. It was a little sad how excited you got, but you tried not to think about that too much.

Instead, you focused on how happy you felt to be included, just another sign that they really did want to be your friend, that they wanted to make you a permanent fixture in their group. You feel that joy bursting inside your chest, behind your eyes. It blocks out the negative thoughts that creep forward, trying to pull you back into the darkness.

But your happiness is too bright, and it only grows as they catch you up on the plan so far: the long weekend, the address, the cost split four ways instead of three. It was enough to make you turn and scream into one of the throw pillows on your couch.

Maybe you’re overreacting, but you’re too happy to worry about that now.

You feel a warm breeze against your back from the window you’d propped open earlier as you watch the texts continue to roll in, confirming details and days to take off. You hadn’t really realized until this moment the way that summer was slowly but surely creeping in.

You can feel it in the air, in the warm breezes and humidity. You can see it in the extended daylight, the sunsets at 8 PM and the sun already almost fully risen by the time you start your walk to work. You can sense it in the restless excitement of the schoolchildren that come into Maz’s at 3 PM and buy strawberry lemonades and discuss all their summer plans.

You can feel it now, planning a summer vacation with your new group of friends, with the people you hope stick around for the rest of your life.

You spend the next fifteen minutes debating on whether or not you should send Poe a text, and ultimately, you make up your mind.

Was it your idea to add me to that group chat?

You know that he’ll know what you're really asking, what you really want to know. You get nervous when he doesn’t respond and you can see those little black dots disappear and reappear. And then, finally, he responds.

Yeah

You feel a smile spreading across your face, and you don’t do anything to stop it. Maybe Finn was right. Maybe Poe really does feel something more towards you, something that he doesn’t feel towards Rey or Rose or Finn. But, you still refuse to get your hopes up.

Good, I’m excited

Good :)

With that response, you shut your phone off for the night, satisfied with the answers you’ve got. If anyone else was with you, you’d be beyond embarrassed about the giant grin on your face, caused by only a few texts. But, since you’re alone, that smile stays plastered on as you focus back on your sitcoms.

Ever the overthinker, you wonder about Poe; what he’s doing, how he’s feeling. Was he nervous about inviting you, so he just added you into that group chat without saying anything? Was his heart beating as he waited for a response from you? Did he smile as big as you did as he sent that last text, grinning and grateful that no one was around to notice?

You admonish yourself when you realize you’re doing the one thing you’ve been trying so hard to avoid: thinking about Poe in anything other than a platonic way. You make a vow to yourself to try your very hardest to not think of Poe in any sort of romantic way, unless he says something to you first. You even write it down on your phone, to remind yourself in case you slip up.

Because, you know at some point, your thoughts will wander and then you’ll suddenly be thinking about a baby with Poe’s curls and your eyes, and you’ll need to remind yourself that you don’t even know if he feels anything romantic towards you, despite what Finn may say.

It’s with that promise to yourself that you finally trudge towards your bedroom and slip into your bed after finishing your nighttime routine. You remind yourself of that promise as you drift off to sleep, as if you’d be able to control your dreams that way. But, it wouldn’t be breaking the promise if you dream about Poe, right?

Tags: @aellynera @userpoe @dailyreverie @stevenngrant @creatively-analytical @poopirate @captainpuffyrp @tiquinntheghost @sabxism @fallinallinmendes @luckynachos

Team ‘Weekend Trip to Asgard’

Relationship: Loki x Fem!reader (SFW)

Summary: When Bruce invited you to a quick weekend getaway, you’d hardly expected your destination to be Asgard. Just like you’d hardly expected to be accompanied by two gods – one of whom you’re convinced hates your guts. But who would have thought that the God of Mischief has a thing for flowers, a talent for reciting Shakespeare, and knowledge of all the best places for stargazing? Certainly not you.

But in a weekend filled with sunny fields and boisterous feasts, with accidental skinny dipping and drunken magic tricks, you would begin to realize all the different ways Loki could surprise you.

Word count: 9k

Content warning: alcohol consumption, a small bit of anxiety. SHAMELESS Valkyrie and Loki flirting with the reader (I have no self-control), and some Bruce x Thor if you squint.

Also on Ao3

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Chapter 6

“Where have you been, we were getting worried – Thor had me convinced you’d taken a nosedive off the Bifrost and Heimdall was gonna have to fish you out of the cosmos or something.”

Bruce was after you as soon as you got through the door, barely giving you enough time to shove your bag off before grilling you with questions. 

“Really,” you sighed, tilting your head before passing a scolding look at Thor. “Why would you do that, you know how he is.”

“I was simply stating the possibilities,” Thor replied, voice a pitch higher in self-defense. 

“What ‘you know how he is,’ you make me sound like I’m some overbearing nanny or something.”

“I mean…” you drawled, scrunching your nose. 

“Alright, you know what, that’s it. C’mere you little monster–”

You dodged a moment too late, and Bruce slung his arm around your neck, tugging you back and ruffling your hair. 

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Team ‘Weekend Trip to Asgard’

Relationship: Loki x Fem!reader (SFW)

Summary: When Bruce invited you to a quick weekend getaway, you’d hardly expected your destination to be Asgard. Just like you’d hardly expected to be accompanied by two gods – one of whom you’re convinced hates your guts. But who would have thought that the God of Mischief has a thing for flowers, a talent for reciting Shakespeare, and knowledge of all the best places for stargazing? Certainly not you.

But in a weekend filled with sunny fields and boisterous feasts, with accidental skinny dipping and drunken magic tricks, you would begin to realize all the different ways Loki could surprise you.

Word count: 8.4k

A/N: No warnings besides the author (and the reader) being a big ass nerd. Excerpts in this chapter are taken from both Jane Eyre and The Tempest. It’s okay if you’re not familiar with the stories, but if you’re interested, I suggest checking out the SparkNotes links above - they offer great summaries, and I think even have full versions of the stories!

Also on Ao3

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Chapter 5

It wasn’t until, you assumed, Thor had reached the bottom of the mountain that Loki let out the smallest of breaths and released his hand from around your waist. 

Immediately you leaned back and burst into laughter. Loki whipped around, looking down at you like he was sure you’d officially lost your mind. Trying to catch your breath, you straightened up with the intention of telling him how adorable that had been, but the look of cranky befuddlement on his face sent you right back into your fit. 

After a few more seconds, you managed to right yourself and wipe your eyes. Your sides were aching awfully, and you had to prop a hand on your hip for support. 

“Are you done?”

“I think so, yes. Just… don’t speak or do anything with your face for a few minutes.”

“I don’t enjoy being laughed at,” Loki scowled.

“Oh, no, I wasn’t – it wasn’t you, I just– well I–”

“Alright,” Loki muttered. “Don’t injure yourself.” A smirk finally broke through his harsh exterior. He gave a little huff of laughter and then poked you in the ribs. 

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the way that loki puts the reader behind him i’m melting this is so cute!! and the way you write dialogue (and just everything in general) is just *chefs kiss*

Team ‘Weekend Trip to Asgard’

Relationship: Loki x Fem!reader (SFW)

Summary: When Bruce invited you to a quick weekend getaway, you’d hardly expected your destination to be Asgard. Just like you’d hardly expected to be accompanied by two gods – one of whom you’re convinced hates your guts. But who would have thought that the God of Mischief has a thing for flowers, a talent for reciting Shakespeare, and knowledge of all the best places for stargazing? Certainly not you.

But in a weekend filled with sunny fields and boisterous feasts, with accidental skinny dipping and drunken magic tricks, you would begin to realize all the different ways Loki could surprise you.

Word count: 7.6k

Content warnings: non-graphic nudity, reader has some self-esteem issues, very brief description of blood

Taglist:  @itsamedeemonee @mischief2sarawr @sabxism @princess-ofthe-pages ((let me know if you would like to be added!!))

Also on Ao3

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Chapter 4

It took you longer than it probably should have to find the edge of the city. You’d explored several winding alleyways and a few dead ends before finally feeling grass beneath your feet as the last of the houses were left behind. You now made your way through an open field, the base of the mountain growing closer with every step. 

Compared to the crowded streets of Asgard, it was refreshing to be in the wilderness. There was almost just as much to see here as there had back in the market. Birds swept through the sky, their songs filling the air, and the array of plant life was such that you’d never seen before in your life. You just hoped you didn’t cross paths with any snakes, your eyes scanning the grass beneath you with a bit more intention at the sudden thought. It wasn’t that you disliked snakes – you just had a sneaking suspicion that if they were so dangerous on Earth, they were probably even more dangerous in Asgard. Though, you wouldn’t mind seeing a frog. 

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Team ‘Weekend Trip to Asgard’

Relationship: Loki x Fem!reader (SFW)

Summary: When Bruce invited you to a quick weekend getaway, you’d hardly expected your destination to be Asgard. Just like you’d hardly expected to be accompanied by two gods – one of whom you’re convinced hates your guts. But who would have thought that the God of Mischief has a thing for flowers, a talent for reciting Shakespeare, and knowledge of all the best places for stargazing? Certainly not you.

But in a weekend filled with sunny fields and boisterous feasts, with accidental skinny dipping and drunken magic tricks, you would begin to realize all the different ways Loki could surprise you.

Word count: 4.7k

Content warnings: discussion of drinking and hangovers, threats of violence (though very, very empty lol)

Taglist: @itsamedeemonee @mischief2sarawr @sabxism ((let me know if you would like to be added!!))

Also on Ao3

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Chapter 3

You should have woken up with the hangover to end all hangovers, considering how drunk you’d gotten last night. But, besides sleeping in a little later than usual, if the sun streaming through the window was any indicator, and the twinge of a headache, you felt fine. Way too fine. Suspiciously fine. 

Blinking your eyes open, you rubbed the sleep out of the corners and stretched across the full length of the couch. The morning air was cool, even inside the palace, and you weren’t surprised to notice birdsong coming through the open window at the back of the room.

 Dragging a hand down your face, you began to pull yourself up, bringing the blanket with you and wrapping it around your shoulders. As far as blankets went, it wasn’t very comfortable, but it was warm, and you were cold, so you really couldn’t complain. Leaning back against the couch, you yawned and rolled your head, neck cracking pleasantly as you stretched the muscles. 

“Sleep well?”

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I'm sorry but I seen your ask button and literally the first thing I thought after seeing "Hello there!" was:

*coughcoughHACK* GeNERal KENoBI--

YESSS IM SO GLAD THAT WAS MY INTENTION

happy star wars day!!!!

▬❝ crush? ❞

summary: one moment he was just some pilot and the next he was your Poe, ⟶ {Poe Dameron x f!reader}

warnings: minor alcohol consumption, injury mention

ONESHOT. 5782 WORDS

find more of my work here // masterlist !!! or get to know the author here :))

You weren’t quite sure when exactly it had happened but you did know that Poe Dameron was paying you more attention than ever before. One day you’d barely interacted with him and the next you seemed to be seeing him everywhere. 

As one of the resistance’s assistant strategists you didn’t officially have that much to do with Poe. The two of you had been in meetings together, you’d run a few errands for your superiors that had involved delivering something to him, once he’d come directly to you to ask your opinion on a plan he had, but aside from that your paths didn’t cross. And then they did. 

All of a sudden he was greeting you as he passed your office - somewhere so far away from anywhere he’d need to be it was ridiculous. Then he was bumping into you in the hallways with an ‘extra’ cup of coffee that just happened to be exactly how you liked it. And soon you were one of his friends. A feat you had nothing to do with and yet still managed to make a few of your peers jealous. It wasn’t as if you’d done anything, or at least nothing you could remember.

Sitting at the end of one of the long tables, you listened to a fellow strategist, Makaki, tell you about their nightmare bunkmate. “And I mean, she leaves her clothes everywhere. She might as well have been assigned my bunk too because her shit is always over it,” they complained.

“I swear, some people have no basic respect for others,” you agreed, “the first bunkmate I ever had thought it would be great to grow a kind of fast-growing sprout from Dagobah. We had to spray our room with toxins and quarantine for a week.”

“Y/N. Y/N!” Poe called from across the mess hall. You looked up to see the pilot strutting towards you. One of his arms was slung over Finn and had a very-full tray of food propped against his hip. They were upon you in a moment.

“Hey, guys. What can I do for you?” you asked, looking between the two of them.

Poe dropped his tray down next to yours and wormed his way onto the very end of the bench prompting you to scootch yourself and your own tray down a bit. You couldn’t tell if he simply didn’t notice his sudden takeover of your spot or simply didn’t care. Either way, it didn’t matter much because he was immediately into an enthusiastic ramble.

“Finn and I were just discussing whether droids are alive or not,” he said, turning a bit in his seat to face you, his knee moving to rest against yours under the table, “And since you’re a delightfully insightful person I thought you might help us out here. See, I say they are alive but he disagrees.”

Finn slid in next to Makaki across the table with a small ‘thanks’. Sharply contrasting Poe’s full immersion in the topic, he didn’t seem to care all that much. “They’ve been programmed and made by a person, I just don’t think that can be classed as alive,” he said, spooning a mouthful of stew into his face.

“We were all technically made and programmed. The only difference between us and droids is that our programming is genetic,” Poe continued, gesturing fervently, “You’re telling me that with all of his jokes and zest, you seriously don’t think BB-8 is alive?”

“It’s artificial intelligence,” Finn said, “I don’t doubt BB’s personality nor the fact that he has feelings, but that doesn’t make him alive like we are.”

Poe grit his teeth, shaking his head lightly as he looked at Finn incredulously. “Doesn’t it? Define alive, hmm?” He turns to you. “C’mon, you agree with me, right, Y/N?”

“Well, uh, I don’t know,” you admitted, pushing around the beans on your plate with your fork, “I don’t know if alive is the right word but I think some droids are beyond artificial intelligence. The emotional connections droids form with people doesn’t exactly fit that term, don’t you think?”

“Exactly! Thank you!” Poe exclaims, slapping a hand on your shoulder, “Someone of intelligence.” 

“Have you asked BB-8 what he thinks yet?” You asked.

“Not yet,” Poe said. He reached for his water and took a sip before continuing. “I don’t wanna hurt his feelings.” You laughed. Of course he didn’t. If there was anything that would remain indisputable about Poe it was his adoration of that little astromech unit. 

“What were you two talking about anyway?’ he asked, “Any fresh base gossip?”

“Just shitty bunkmates,” Makaki said with a shrug. They didn’t seem particularly phased by the sudden invasion of your conversation.

“Hmm, I feel that,” Finn said, his tray already half-empty, “I haven’t been here that long and I’ve already gone through about three.”

“Well, maybe you’re the shitty bunkmate in the equation,” Poe suggested, buttering his roll and ripping a hunk off with his teeth, “Ever thought of that?”

“You’re only saying that ‘cause I got rid of you in a week,” Finn replied.

“Oh. Oh, am I just? Well for your information I was at my breaking point with you too.”

Finn snorted. “The problem with that one is that he needs constant attention,” he said to you and Makaki.

Poe rolled his eyes and took another sip of his drink. “Whatever you say, Finn, whatever you say.”

“Hey, you can’t be any worse than the guy I had that would sit and watch me work. No talking, no movement, just sitting there. That was just creepy,” you said, shivering as you remembered.

“Everyone’s got their thing, right?” Makaki joked.

“What’s your thing then, Y/N?” Poe inquired, “Your red flag, per say.”

You had to think about that for a moment. 

“I like to stay up late. Reading, working, anything really. I do my best to keep light as minimal as possible of course but there’s always something on so I can see. Haven’t had any direct complaints yet but I figure it’s gotta be a little annoying.”

Poe nodded slightly, full attention on you. “Interesting,” he remarked plainly.

“Is it?" you asked, chuckling awkwardly.

You noticed he often did things like that, including you in what felt like mostly meaningless discussions or going out of his way to have a conversation with you. He never did it alone though you realised. He might invite himself into your space, or the opposite, but he’d always bring Finn or Rey or even C3-PO once. 

You began to pick up on the little things about him. How he hated maintaining the paint on his ship despite his love for keeping her in tip-top shape. How he would much rather be in a freezing wet forest than a boiling desert. You could tell he was doing the same and no matter how dull or mundane you thought a detail about your life was he acted as though it was fascinating. You couldn’t tell if you should be flattered or if all of that going in circles in his X-Wing had done something to his brain.

It wasn’t that you had a problem with this new friendship, Poe was a total babe, but some part of you couldn’t help but doubt the sincerity of it. He had such a wondrous presence that you felt almost undeserving of it. Everyone was drawn to Poe, he was utterly magnetic and yet you weren’t sure you’d ever gone out of your way to have a conversation with him. There was no need to since he kept appearing around you though.

It was reasonably late one evening when you finished your day’s tasks and decided to get some supper. After picking up a Corellian pear along with a knife to cut it with, and a bottle of water you turned to the mostly empty mess hall. You would’ve just gone back to your room but the sight of an uncharacteristically tired looking commander caught your eye. One of about ten people in the room, Poe sat at the table furthest away from the food stations. He had a bowl of stew or soup or something in front of him and was engrossed in reading the book he had propped up in his hand.

You hesitated for a moment before heading towards him. It wasn’t until you were stepping into the seat opposite him that he noticed you.

“Hey,” you said with a small smile.

“Hi,” he replied.

“Oh, no you don’t have to stop,” you said as he went to put the bookmark in his book, “I just thought it'd be better to come sit with you than be alone in my quarters.”

He moved the book aside anyway and picked up his spoon again. “Wow, I’m honoured,” he teased. If he’d looked drained from afar, he looked positively exhausted up close. His whole demeanour was subdued and the energy he gave off was diluted. 

“As you should be,” you joked, cutting a slice off the pear and holding it up to your lips, “Long day?”

He sighed with his entire body, the light chuckle following unable to disguise his fatigue. “The longest. Black Squadron and I were doing general maintenance to get ready for the scouting mission when Sammant’s blaster cannon malfunctioned and boom.” He mimed an explosion and made a little phoosf noise. 

“Ah shit,” you said sympathetically, “Is everyone okay?”

“Sammant took the brunt of it. He and Dev are in med with first degree burns. They’ll be fine by the time we’re set to leave next week but y’know.” He had a spoonful of soup before asking, “Why don’t you tell me about your day?”

“Not much to say,” you admitted, “We looked over all of the latest known movements of the First Order to try and figure out their next moves, just seems like they’re still trying to get more corrupt governing bodies on their side.”

“They having much luck?”

“Do you really wanna know?” you asked. 

“Not really, no,” he said honestly. 

A healthy pause in conversation fell between the two of you as he continued to eat his soup - the occasional slurp making you smile - and you slowly whittled away at your pear, the soft crunching of you chewing keeping silence from settling. It was nice; sitting there with him. There was no pressure. It made for a nice change from the regular urgency of your lives. 

Once you’d finished eating you reached for your water. You frowned, struggling to twist off the cap. Before you could try again Poe wordlessly reached across the table and took it from you. He unscrewed it with ease, returned it, and went right back to eating. After uttering a soft ‘thank you’, you couldn’t help but stare at him as you took a sip of your water. 

When he looked up again, you noticed how his Adam's apple bobbed when he locked eyes with you. It made your stomach twist.

“It’s never just us is it,” you began, “Alone, I mean. We’re always around other people.”

“Yeah,” he said thoughtfully, “I hadn’t really thought about it before.” He didn’t ever look away, not even as he stirred the last bit of his soup lazily.

“Yeah, I just… thought that was interesting.” Your throat felt tight and you knew you were gripping your water too firmly. Something about the way he held your gaze made you feel small.

“‘You saying you’d like us to be alone more?” His tone toed the line between a playful jest and a hopeful question. 

“No,” you replied quickly, “Well, not ‘no’. It’s just- it was an observation.”

“Okay.” He shrugged, seemingly content with your answer, and went back to eating his soup. 

Apart from that night you hadn’t spent any more time alone together and you found yourself a little disappointed. You still saw him everyday he was on-planet. That brief moment of utter exhaustion you’d found him in hadn't been repeated which you were glad for. 

However, from that moment on there was a tiny shift in your friendship, nothing you could point out or name but it had changed. Poe was softer. Not in the way he spoke or how he acted or anything like that. No, it was his eyes. Something was different in how he looked at you. You didn't know how else to describe it other than intimate. It made you feel a bit warm.

A couple of months had passed when you found yourself in the thick of a local celebration. Sensing how low overall base morale had been recently, General Organa had authorised a trip for any interested to the closest city where a lights festival was being held.

You pushed your way through the crowds towards the bar Rey had told you she’d be at. Above the throng of heads, you spotted the brilliant neon sign, “Baipipe’s Best”. Entering the establishment you were pleasantly surprised to see it emptier than expected. There were a few empty stools at the bar as well as a few empty tables. 

It didn’t take you long to find the people you were looking for. In the far corner of the room you saw they’d pulled a few of the square tables together by a long booth seat to fit everyone. From a distance the sight of them made you grin, eleven of your closest friends and coworkers crowding together laughing and having a good time. You couldn’t recall the last time you’d seen them all so happy.

After getting a drink from the bar you walked over. Rey, Finn, Makaki, and three guys from the Black Squadron, Lin, Kray and Adan, sat in chairs with their backs to you while another strategist, Annlos, sat beside Dev, Sammant, a relatively new member of the resistance, Vexdall, and finally Poe at the booth. 

“Hey, Y/N!” Annlos greeted, prompting the rest of the group to see you and call out a mix of ‘hello’ ‘hi’ and ‘sup’ with a noticeably last, “hey” from Poe. 

With his arms resting across the back of the booth, legs stretching out beneath the table, he looked… lean. When you’d first walked in it had been nice to see everyone in their preferred clothes but up close your stomach felt like lead at the sight of Poe’s rolled up sleeves and very open collar. Not to mention the chain and ring around his neck was visible for once.

“Sit here,” Poe said as he watched you reach for a nearby chair. He shuffled down a bit, opening up space for you. It wasn’t as if you could refuse so you gave him a small smile before plopping down beside him. He’d taken it off when he’d moved down, but once you were seated he replaced his arm on the back of the seat so that it was behind you. He turned his head to look at you. “Hey,” he said as you sipped your drink, “You look nice.”

“Thanks,” you said, not quite understanding how a simple tank top and pants looked nice, “Your hair looks good.”

“Thank you,” he replied with a grin, “I washed it.” You laughed, shifting to get more comfortable and unintentionally getting closer to him.

“Y/N, did you see the fireworks earlier?” Adan, asked from across the table. The two of you shared a homeworld, Chandrila, so despite your lack of common ground elsewhere you had a sense of understanding for one another.

“Yeah, they were really beautiful,” you replied, “Did you see the one that looked like an opee sea killer?”

“An opee what now?” Poe asked before Adan could reply. 

“It’s a giant fish on Naboo,” Adan explained, “Y/N and I saw one once.”

“They’re terrifying,” you added, shivering at the memory.

“You guys went to Naboo together?” Poe asked, looking at you with a slight frown.

You hummed in confirmation. “Yeah. A couple of years ago. One of my only non-strategist missions,” you said, “There was an ex-imperial Chandrilan informant there and General Organa figured she’d respond better to people from her homeworld. Which she did, thank the Maker.”

“Wow. Look at you being more than a nerd,” Poe said, putting his hand on your shoulder and squeezing playful, “Then again who wouldn’t listen to you, hmm?”

He didn’t move his hand when the conversation shifted to everyone’s favourite planet, and at some point during Dev’s speel on why Coruscant wasn’t just a polluted shithole, Poe started to trace small circles onto your bare shoulder. You were having trouble focusing on what anyone was saying. You chalked up the blossoming warmth in your throat to be the effects of the drink you’d just finished.

“Okay, okay!” Makaki said, the volume of their tone telling you they’d had a few drinks already, “When this is all over, when the First Order is just a name, what is everyone gonna do?”

“I think I’d like to travel for a long time,” Finn said, “Just going from place to place. Experiencing everything.” Rey hummed in agreement beside him.

“I’d like to be a famous performer,” Vexdall said, surprising all of you. He didn’t add anything else nor specify what kind of performer but it was nice to think about. 

Poe sat up straighter in his seat as he answered, “I’m gonna retire as a legendary war-hero, settle down, become some small town’s big name.”

“BB-8 coming with you?” you asked, grinning.

“Of course. What kind of life would it be without him?” he said like it wasn’t even an option to not have the droid around, “What are you gonna do, hmm, sweetheart?”

“Well, I uh…” You’d had an answer but the pet name momentarily stumped you. Blinking a couple of times, you regained your composure. “I always figured I’d get away from it all, help people on a smaller scale. Maybe be a teacher or something.”

“You should come to my little town,” Poe suggested, stroking the top of your shoulder with his thumb, “I’ll use the impressive wealth I’ll have amassed via my heroism to build you a little school.” The way he grinned at you made your stomach flutter. Maker, every single thing he had said to you tonight had made you feel a tad lightheaded. It wasn’t like he was doing anything different. Sure, he was a little more physically affectionate and when he talked to you his eyes seemed to deepen and he’d just invited you to share in his future but that wasn’t anything.

“Should we go and watch the rest of the light show before heading back?” Adan suggested.

“Sure,” you said, “I’ll probably get separated from the group given how big the crowds are though.”

“You can hold my hand if you like,” Poe said, his whole head turned sideways, looking at you with dark eyes. You swore you could’ve drowned in them.

“Okay.” You felt like a little mouse with how quiet that’d been.

The rest of the night blew by, the remainder of the light show shaping up to be one of the top ten most beautiful things you’d ever seen. Even though the crowds had grown since you’d last been in the mix, you faced no threat of getting lost which was nice but also meant you hadn’t taken up Poe on his offer. Despite that, he still stayed fixed to your side the entire time your jaw was hanging open as you took in the spectacle. You pulled your eyes away from the sky a few times to look at him. Watching the lights reflected in his dark irises was almost more beautiful than the real thing. 

It was the experience of a lifetime.

A few weeks passed by and you were busier than ever before. The sheer amount of stuff going on had you performing yours and others’ duties to keep the base functional. You’d barely had a minute for yourself let alone any to spare for your friends and it was getting to you. You felt a bit lonely.

It was nearly eleven at night as you sat at your desk. Your bunkmate was off-planet for a while so you didn’t have to feel too badly about still being awake. With about a third of a pile of paperwork left you figured you’d only be there another hour or so. It would be so easy to turn off your light and just crawl into bed but if you didn’t finish everything tonight you’d be stupidly behind tomorrow. Pulling the next piece of First Order transmission over, you felt that your brain was going to melt the moment you tried to decode it. 

A light knock at your door made you turn. You weren’t quite sure if you were just imagining a distraction or not so you stared at it for a moment longer. A second knock. Now that it was real you got up and hit the button on the wall to open it. 

Poe leant against your doorframe and grinned when he saw you standing there. You should’ve frowned at him being up this late but the desperate lack of interaction you’d had recently made you forget that.

“What can I do for you, Commander?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“Just came to say hi. Can I come in?”

You stepped to the side and he wasted no time moving in past you. Hitting the button again, the door slid closed after you.

“Why the hell are you working?” he asked, standing over your desk as you fell back into your chair, “It’s late. You should be asleep.”

“I could say the same for you,” you replied, “and you wouldn’t have popped in if you didn’t think I’d be awake.”

“Wouldn’t I have?” he said cheekily, moving to sit on your bunk behind you, “Maybe I stopped by hoping to catch you fresh from sleep.”

You snorted. “Oh, sure. What reason would you do that for, though?”

“I figure you gotta be extra cute just after waking up,” he said thoughtfully. You had to fight the urge to whip around and look at him as goosebumps popped up across your skin. “I’ll have to test that hypothesis another time.”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, thankful you weren’t facing him so he couldn’t see how flustered you were.

“What are you working on anyway?” You heard him climb out of the bunk and grab the second chair in the room to pull up near you. 

“Decoding.” Turning, you found him behind you to the left peering over your shoulder. 

He frowned lightly. “Since when do strategists decode? Don’t we have decoders for that?” he asked, reaching out to look at the paper in front of you. You watched as his eyes flitted across it, the curve in his brows steepening as he went. 

“Yeah, but most of them are in med. They all got food poisoning.”

He grimaced. Dropping the paper back to your desk he shifted his attention to your face. “You shouldn’t be working this late.” It wasn’t a disapproving remark from a friend so much as an order from a commander. 

“If I don’t finish this tonight I’ll be up even later tomorrow.”

“This is too much work for one person,” he said, putting a hand on your arm. Maker, every time he did that you wanted to fold into him completely. 

“I know.” It came out a whisper. When he’d said it aloud you couldn’t escape how exhausted you were. This moment reminded you a little of that time you’d found him sitting alone.

“Take a break with me,” he said, caressing your arm with his knuckles. Staring into his eyes, you softened.

Oh, Maker, those eyes. Everything in them made you ache for something you couldn’t name. There was a beautiful sincerity in his eyes that told you to trust him and part of you feared you’d jump off a cliff if he asked you to with those eyes.

“I can’t,” you said, hating yourself for it, “If I do, I’ll just go right to sleep.”

“I see no problem with that.”

“Why'd you come see me?” you asked.

“I miss you.”

“Really?” you said, chuckling lightly in disbelief, not quite willing to comprehend the gravity of that confession.

“Yeah,” he said. Gripping the edge of his chair, he scooted closer to you. “Do you miss me?” The eagerness and anticipation in him were clear.

You turned your whole body towards him, slotting one of your knees between his. He gave off the energy of a man teetering on a precipice without any fear of falling. Something about that scared you.

“‘Course I did,” you said, “These last few weeks without you have been incredibly dull.”

“Is it wrong of me to be happy that someone else isn’t spicing things up for you?” he asked, a grin twisting onto his face as he grabbed your knee playfully.

You swatted him softly in the chest with the back of your hand. “A bit, yeah. You wouldn’t be happy for me if there was?” you asked.

“I’m far too selfish for that,” he said, shaking his head, “I’d probably sulk for a while. Maybe even throw a tantrum.” You put a hand to your chest in fake gratitude. He leaned forward in his seat. If he got any closer you’d go cross-eyed looking him in the eyes. 

“Guess I’m stuck with you,” you breathed, trust in your ability to speak wavering.

“Only if you want to be,” he said. 

With gentleness beyond your imagination he reached up and cupped your face. It was slow and careful and clearly gave you time to pull away if you weren’t comfortable. You didn’t move. 

Caressing your cheekbones with his thumbs, Poe tipped your head up ever so slightly. His eyes flitted downwards to your lips for a moment. Your heart might’ve stopped then and there and you’d have been none the wiser.

And then he leaned in and kissed you and your entire life flashed before your eyes.

What in the galaxy could you have done to earn this moment? His lips were tender and sweet and practised. The way he cupped your face made you feel like the most adored being in the galaxy. He seemed to be holding you like letting go would mean losing you forever. You could taste the slight greed on his lips as he kissed you and behind the softness of him you could feel how he wanted to envelope you so completely. He was terrifyingly all-in. 

At first you couldn’t think to kiss back. Too drunk on this new feeling to register you were just sitting there, eyes shut. When Poe started to pull back you realised that he probably thought you weren’t into it and the sudden, overwhelming desperation to not part from him took over and you moved forward and kissed back with as much affection as you could muster. His shoulders dropped some of their tension at your participation.

You grasped at his collar. In the time you’d known him, Poe had always been up close and personal, a knee brushing yours, a hand on your arm. But now, with him closer than even it wasn’t close enough. You wanted to be suffocated by him - smothered. Perhaps he was psychic because he dropped a hand from your face and pulled you into his lap. Rather awkwardly that being said, one thick palm under your thigh, he dragged you forward clumsily off your chair so you were straddling him in his.

“I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you,” he breathed into your lips, snaking his arm around your waist to hold you flush to his chest. Had you not been focused on how warm and comforting he was, you would’ve understood the depth of his words.

“Uh huh,” you mumbled unthinkingly, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck, every bit of distance between the two of you a sin. You could feel him smile into your lips as you scratched your nails into his hair. He was wonderfully present holding you like this, fully invested, fully immersed in you.

Being loved by Poe was like being loved by the very stars themselves. He was a miracle and to be held by him was to be blessed. In the vastness of the galaxy and the millions of wondrous things you’d witnessed there was something so fulfilling about this moment.

“You're so pretty,” he began in a breath between the heavy kisses he was pulling from your lips, voice delightfully hoarse, "’I ever tell you how pretty you are?”

“No," you mumbled into him. Threading your fingers into his hair, you eagerly swallowed the sigh he released.

"Well you are." He started to trace circles into your back, the familiar circles you'd spent more than one night thinking about. "You're fucking stunning."

Till now you hadn't realised just what you'd been missing in your life but being worshipped by Poe Dameron made you keenly aware as it filled that gap in your soul. "You're gorgeous, Poe," you whispered, speaking quickly so as to do so without ceasing to kiss him, "Every single piece of you."

He melted in your arms a bit. "You're never getting rid of me now." It was so soft and sigh-like, his voice perfectly illustrating how sincere he was.

Another kiss. "Good."

If it had been late at night when you'd first heard him knock it you figured it might be early morning when the kiss finally cooled. You were sitting in his lap, faces apart, staring down into his eyes, playing with his hair as he held your hips in each palm. You'd never noticed them before but looking at them now, the slight creases in the corners of his eyes - smile wrinkles you'd determined - made you feel all warm and fluttery. There was so much detail to him that you were delighted to discover, a smouldering curiosity with no urgency to it. It settled in you that you'd have more moments like this now, that you had all the time in the world to notice everything about him.

"You should go to bed," he said, gazing up at you like one would look at a natural wonder. The ache of exhaustion in your bones hadn't left but with Poe holding you like this it felt less heavy.

"Probably," you replied, "that would require getting up though, and I'm perfectly happy where I am."

His chuckle made you smile. "Not necessarily."

You felt him shift beneath you slightly before his hands moved to the underside of your thighs and he lifted you with him as he got to his feet. With your limbs wrapped around him and him supporting your weight, he kissed you again. This one wasn't anything more than a peck but it felt like a promise.

Turning carefully, he moved to lower you into your bunk - ducking to not bump his head.

"There we go," he said softly once you were safely on top of your covers, head resting on the pillow. He reached up and brushed a hand across your cheek. "All safe and sound." He pressed a kiss to your forehead.

He started to pull back, unhooking his arms from you as your legs dropped from him. 

"Aren't you staying?" you asked, suddenly distressed by the fact he was intending to leave you in your cold bed, robbed of his warmth.

"Do you want me to?" he asked, vaguely surprised by the question.

"Yes." It may well have been the easiest 'yes' of your life. There was no decision to make, it was just what was happening.

He seemed to consider your expression for a long moment before replying, "Okay." You hummed at his agreement. "Lemme take my boots off first, baby."

You supposed when he called you that you could allow him to remove his shoes. He did move out of your grip which made you grumble a little. Moving your legs to make room, he perched on the edge of the bunk and pulled his shoes off. He shed his jacket and belt as well.

And then he was crawling back into your welcoming arms. "You sure this is alright?" he asked, hovering over you, propped up by the elbows, "I don't wanna be here unless you want me to be."

"More than alright." Running your hands up and down his arms, you willed him to relax atop you. And he did, and it was bliss. He was heavy, heavy enough that you had to slightly reconfigure your breathing but as he wrapped his arms around you, his face pressed into your neck you felt more at peace than ever. The weight of him was delicious, you decided. You held true about wanting to be smothered by him. Never before had you felt so desired in such an intimate way.

"Just to be clear," he said, lifting his head up to rub his nose against your cheek before kissing it, "you're into me too, right?"

You felt a little bad but you couldn't help but laugh. "Yes. Very."

He hummed low in his throat and you shivered slightly. "Are you saying you have a crush on me, baby? Is that what you're saying?" he teased.

"Yeah. I'm down bad," you said, moving your hands up and under his shirt so your palm was flat on his warm back. You suddenly recalled the word that he'd uttered against your lips earlier and you seized up a little. 

"Are you really in love with me?" you whispered. 

The silence that followed your question was haunting.

"Yeah," he replied finally, all of the light teasing replaced by truth, "is that okay?"

It was your turn to be silent. "Yeah," you whispered, "I think I might be in love with you too but I haven't thought enough about it to be sure."

"That's okay," he said with a small smile. Every square inch of you ached for him and you weren’t sure you’d ever recover from how tender he was. You had him in your arms and would undoubtedly have him there again but you felt that every moment from now until you died that you did not have him near, you would miss him. You’d never really been selfish or greedy before but with one taste of Poe Dameron you feared you might become quite unbearably depraved. 

"Good night, Poe,” you said, wrapping your arms around him a little tighter as you kissed his forehead. He snuggled in a bit more, sighed into your neck and pressed a kiss to your jaw.

“Sleep well, sweetheart.”

⭑ ⟵ ★ ⟶ ⭑

a/n: I was highkey blushing as I wrote this, this man is just hhhhhhhhhh, i love him I LOVE HIM - this was originally meant to be some headcanons and then just a lil drabble and then a small oneshot and now it's the longest solo piece I've ever written.

if you have any ideas, suggestions, or comments please comment on this post, dm me or drop your thoughts in my inbox! i'd love to talk to you :))

Are You Real?

LOKI x reader | 2.5k | fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

Summary: Under the most baffling of circumstances, Loki gets one last night with you.

a/n: this makes zero sense but idrc

Loki isn’t sure how he’s here, but judging by the year adorning the calendar hanging on the wall, he shouldn’t be. 

The apartment looks mostly the same, save for the rearrangement of the appliances on the kitchen counter and some new blankets and throw pillows nestled neatly on the sofa. There’s a sketch of the Manhattan skyline sporting Steve’s signature framed and hanging above the sink.

Loki’s hands twitch at his sides, heart aching as he takes in every detail of the familiar space. Heaven knows how much time he’d spent with you in this apartment, getting to know every little detail of you, every quirk. The way you hid your face in his shoulder when something made you laugh, the twinkle that illuminated your eyes when you got an idea that would most likely make him groan in protest, the cadence of your voice. 

He hears a latch click off to his right - from the direction of your bedroom, he realizes - and it sends a jolt up his spine. Footsteps sound down the hallway.

And then you're there.

A strangled noise falls from his lips as he takes in the sight of you, every aspect of your appearance drawing up a memory, a feeling he hasn't been able to revisit enough these past years apart from you. 

You’re as stunning as the day he met you, eyes still bright with that contagious joy he found himself unable to pull away from. He sighs as he notices a few new scars littering the skin that isn’t covered by your pajamas, no doubt a product of the war that had taken him. You’d come out the other side a bit battered, but you were still here. The knowledge sends a swell of pride and relief through his chest. You were safe.

You walk past, and it’s then that his theory that you can’t sense his presence is confirmed. The thought wraps a vice grip around his heart, but he’s grateful to even be allowed to be near you, able to see you again. 

You yawn and stretch your arms upward, back arching. You reach for the handle of a cabinet, pulling it open. The hinges protest the movement, groaning at you. You tsk at the sound, resignedly acknowledging you should probably replace them soon.

You smile sleepily as you see what you’re looking for, grabbing the box of various teas and a mug from their respective shelves and setting them down on the counter in front of you. A chill runs up your left arm as you walk over to set the kettle on. 

Loki observes as you pass by him again, this time with a small shiver. He sighs at the motion, knowing that’s most likely the only response he’ll be able to draw from you.

You pull your phone from your pocket, and he smiles softly as he notices your lockscreen is the same it’s been for nearly a decade - a slightly blurry picture of the two of you, taken with the front camera. You’re smiling brightly, eyes shut tight while your nose scrunches, and he’s looking at you like you’ve hung the stars in the sky, naming every one for him. 

“What’s a selfie?” he asks from the doorway, drawing a laugh from your lips. He’d overheard you say the word to Tony earlier, and it’s nagged him ever since. 

“It’s a picture you take of yourself, usually with the front camera of your phone,” you explain, holding up your device with a smile. “C’mere, I’ll show you!”

He approaches, sitting next to you on the couch. 

“You hold it in front of you, flip the camera around, and take a picture.” You demonstrate, and opening your photos app afterward. You grimace as you see the picture you’d taken seconds prior.

“What’s wrong? Did you take it incorrectly?” Lokie asks, confused. You shake your head in response.

“No, I just don’t look that good in it. My hair’s a bit messy today,” you answer nonchalantly as you delete the picture. He frowns.

“My love, you’re mistaken. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever had the privilege to lay my eyes upon. Please, do not speak ill of yourself.”

“Okay, okay,” you sigh, pressing a kiss to his cheek with a smile. You’re eternally grateful for the way Loki is always trying to get you to see yourself in a warmer light. While you know you’ll never see yourself the way he does, never think the things he murmurs to you, you do know that he means them, and the thought of that alone is enough to overwhelm you with emotion. “Now, you try!” He takes the phone as you offer it, opening the camera app and pressing the flip icon. 

“Do you wish to be in it?” he asks, looking over at you. You smile, nodding. 

“Sure, scootch closer over here.” He does just that, wrapping an arm around you and holding the camera a bit ways away, ensuring you’re both in-frame before pressing the white circle at the bottom of the screen.

You smile faintly at the picture, as you always do, then unlock it and navigate to your music app, putting on an older playlist of yours. 

Soft melodies fill the room as you flit around, tending to your tea and pulling out the ingredients to bake cookies. Loki smiles with a shake of his head. You always did tend to bustle around the kitchen far too late, often pulling him up from the couch to help measure ingredients and move things in and out of the oven.

He finds himself moving to sit at one of the stools tucked under the counter, watching you go about your routine. He takes notice of how you aren’t using a recipe anymore - if you’ve continued with the same one you’ve always done, you must have it memorized by now.

You sip your tea as you bake, running over the recipe in your head. Finally finished with mixing, you scoop balls of cookie dough out onto the tray you’ve lined with parchment paper. You laugh as a chocolate chip sticks to your finger and pop it into your mouth. Loki grins, sitting back in his seat and crossing his arms in front of him.

“Always were a bit messy, weren’t we?” he says. You don’t respond, of course, but it feels good to talk to you, so he doesn’t stop. “I wish you’d kept that yellow blanket, dove. It matched the curtains so well. I’m going to take a guess and say that the Captain’s small canine had a go at it?”

You furrow your brow, looking up from the sheet of dough. You could’ve sworn you heard a faint laugh coming from the direction of the living room. It sounded like, well…like Loki’s, if you let yourself dream a little. A smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you shake your head, going back to your cookies.

You place the last bits of dough onto the parchment, then move the sheet to the oven. The heat from the appliance reaches you ever so slightly, warming the side of your leg while you pull up your clock app and set a timer.

The opening notes of a song you haven’t heard in a while filter through the speaker of your phone, bringing with it a wave of memories that crash into your mind. 

Loki spins you around his room to the soft melody, tufts of carpet brushing across the bottom of your feet as you twirl back into his arms with a bright laugh. He holds you to him tightly, arms circling you from behind. His thumbs trace gentle circles on your forearms as he presses a kiss to your hair. You turn around in his embrace to face him, hands extending upwards to cup his face, bringing him in for a kiss.

“Fuck, you’re pretty,” you say as you pull away, and now it’s his turn to laugh.

“Thank you, my love. You’re rapturing as well.”

“I didn’t say rapturing,” you tease, shrieking as he jabs you in the side, picking you up and playfully tossing you down on his bed. He flops down onto the mattress next to you with a grin.

“You’re going to pay for that,” he says, pulling you close to him again, the two of you face to face. 

“You love me, though,” you joke, heart flipping as his eyes soften. He smooths a hand over your hair, nodding with a small smile.

“I do,” he confirms, smiling even wider when you bury your face in his chest. 

You wipe away the tears that begin to bud at the corners of your eyes, letting a sad smile form on your lips. Missing him has gotten easier over time, but the amount you did so never lessened. No stretch of time could reduce how much you long for his arms around you again, how much you wish you could hear his voice just one last time, how much you wanted to be able to let him know that you got out okay, that you’re safe.

“I miss you so much,” you whisper into the emptiness of your kitchen, bracing your forearms against the counter and dipping your head down to stare at the whorls in the marble below you.

Loki closes the gap between the two of you and wraps his arms around your shaking frame. His chest tightens as his hands hover above you, almost touching you, but not quite. He feels you shiver again and does what he can to tighten his embrace, pressing a phantom kiss to your hair. 

“I know, love,” he whispers, rubbing circles on your back. He hopes the comfort the motion once brought you somehow makes it through to you, even if you can’t feel him. “I know.”

He straightens when you begin to move, stepping back a few inches as you resume an upright stance. He tilts his head as you make your way out of the kitchen, headed for the hallway. 

He follows, padding across the floor behind you, watching as you duck into the room the two of you once shared. When you re-emerge, you’ve done something that springs tears into his eyes.

You’re pulling one of his old hooded sweatshirts over your head, tucking your hands inside the sleeves. He notices the way you inhale deeply, and can’t help but wonder if you’re searching for some remnant of his scent - the cologne he’d worn after having it recommended to him by the Captain, the smell of old books that he often carried with him, fragrant notes of tea leaves. The thought brings a faint smile to his lips, and he tracks after you back to the kitchen, not wanting to let you out of his sight for as long as he’s graced with being here.

You grab your phone from the counter, start the song from the beginning, and wipe your eyes, letting the music wash over you. You smile slightly, swaying back and forth as you make yourself another cup of tea and take the cookies out of the oven, humming along to the melody. 

Loki draws impossibly close to you as you step out into the middle of the kitchen, smiling at the sound of the notes drifting from your throat. He blinks, and when he opens his eyes, he freezes. You’ve met his gaze, wide-eyed and rigid as a board.

“Loki?”

As you lift a trembling hand to his face, he knows something’s happened he’ll never be able to explain, even with every ounce of knowledge he’s gained in his multitudes of years in this universe. Your name falls like a prayer from his lips.

“Are you real?” you say quietly, and the quiet hope in your eyes nearly brings him to his knees. He smiles tearfully, and that’s all you need to wrap your arms around him, clutching at his shirt with desperate hands as one of his comes up to cradle the back of your head. “Oh my god,” you gasp through your sobs. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.”

“I’m here, my love,” he murmurs, tears springing anew as he’s able to wrap his arms around you solidly for the first time in years. “I’m here.”

You’re holding him so tightly that if it were anyone else, you’d be afraid you’d hurt them, but he’s holding you close, and you just can’t let him go. Even if this is all in your head, even if it’s some sick dream, you can’t let him go. 

“Loki, I- how?” you choke out. “How are you- I saw you- I saw you die.”

“I don’t know,” he admits, shaking his head, the movement causing his chin to rub your shoulder. He frowns at the thought of what you’ve had to endure. “I don’t know.” You bury your face in his neck, the feeling of his arms around you a grounding presence as he picks you up, pulling your legs up to wrap around his waist.

He carries you over to the couch, sitting down with you on top of him, hands moving up to rub circles on your back again. You’re beginning to hyperventilate, so he pulls you up, meeting your eyes.

“Breathe, love. I need you to breathe for me,” he says softly, gently running a thumb over your cheek as you try to take control of your heaving chest, eventually slowing the pace at which you’re consuming the air around you. Loki smiles. 

“I feel like I’m hallucinating,” you admit with a weak laugh as he takes your hands in his, giving them a reassuring squeeze.

“So do I,” he says, chuckling. “My love, while I do like being able to be this close once more, my leg is starting to fall asleep. Would it be alright if we lay down?” You nod with a laugh, letting him pull you down to lie next to him. 

He brings an arm around to pull you close to him, resting it on your waist once he’s done so. 

“Loki,” you say quietly, bringing your hands up to cup his face. He smiles softly, eyes never waving from yours. “Loki.”

He leans forward, capturing your quivering lips with his, taking note of how they still once he does so. You taste of chamomile and home, and he knows you’re doing the same as he is - memorizing, cataloging every second to cling to once the fleeting time he has with you tonight has run down. 

You’d missed the feeling of this - your lips against his, bodies flush together, not a care in the world but each other. You’re already starting to dread the possibility of him vanishing any second, but then he’s tangling his fingers into your hair, and he’s smiling, and you can’t focus on anything but his lips and his breath and his hands.

Loki longed for the day when this could be his normal again. Now, as he holds you in his arms, feeling how alive you are, he finds himself horrified with the prospect. 

Valhalla was lonely without you, yet he hoped you would never join him. He didn’t care to think about what it would take for you to get there.

For now, this was enough.

just binged the four eps of moon knight that are out rn...steven grant my beloved

champagne problems

Pairing: Poe Dameron x f!reader

Warnings: angst, swearing

Word Count: 4.7k

Author’s Note: this is based on champagne problems by Taylor Swift, lyrics are in bold :)

You booked the night train for a reason, so you could sit there in this hurt. Bustling crowds or silent sleepers, you’re not sure which is worse.

Poe had secluded himself into the hangar, as if he would somehow find solace in the emptiness. If anything, he just needed a place to wallow in his emotions, before he could even begin to process anything. He had a plan. For the first time in his life, he had a plan he was going to stick to. And this time, he wasn’t the one who couldn’t follow the plan.

It was you. This time, it was you who fucked it up. He didn’t see it that way, he could never see you as anything less than perfect, even as his heart was breaking, fracturing into a thousand tiny pieces, because of you. He has found a way to blame everyone but you, because he wouldn’t let himself be angry with you, he wouldn’t let himself tarnish the beautiful picture he had painted of you in his mind.

The silence was starting to drive him insane, as if it was mocking his loneliness, mocking the fact that if it was any other night, you would have been there with him, talking, laughing, simply being together. But, he thought it would be worse to be surrounded by people, throwing their fake pity at him. He didn’t want to talk about it, he never wanted to talk about it.

Maybe if he ignored it, it would be gone, as if it never happened, as if the past 4 years never happened. He was great at that, bottling up his emotions until they became explosive. He had always been like that, except with his love for you. With that, he had willingly let his heart bleed onto the floor, painting every action with the way he felt for you.

You were always his light, his hope, the light rain after a drought. You were the careful hands that healed him and the soft voice that scolded him. You were the soft hands that calmed him and the steady voice that talked him down from the edge. You were the shaky hands and broken voice, full of pain and fear, radiating out of you and onto him.

You always had that effect with him, your feelings bleeding into his veins. Your joy had always warmed him, deep into his bones. Your sadness somehow pulled him down with you, but just enough that he could bring you back to the surface. Your anger lit the fuse on his, and neither of you backed down easily.

But, he was still unable and unwilling to blame you. He would never be able to blame you, he would never be able to be angry at you over this. He loved you too much for that. Because when Poe loved, he loved too hard and he wouldn’t back down, even as he sat and choked on his tears.

Because I dropped your hand while dancing, left you out there standing crestfallen on the landing, champagne problems

“What are you doing?!” you yelled through your laughter as Poe dragged you throughout the base.

“We’re going on an adventure,” he turned around with a grin, one that you couldn’t help but to reciprocate. Because how could you ever not return his smile when he looked at you like that? He looked at you as if you were the sole reason the galaxy continued to survive, like you were the cause of the rising and setting sun, the moon and all her phases, and the twinkling of every single star.

“I want to go on an adventure back to our room,” he rolled his eyes at this, turning back around to guide you through the winding halls.

“Will you quit complaining?”

“Sorry,” you didn’t sound sorry at all, and you were grinning when he glanced behind himself to look at you. How could he ever be mad at you, when you looked at him like that? Like he was the sole reason flowers bloomed, like he was the cause of the summer rain showers, the sprouting of new leaves, and when winter melted into the spring.

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise, I can’t tell,”

“Are we almost there?”

“Are you almost done complaining?”

“Damn, you’re cranky. Maybe we should just go back to bed,”

He stopped walking, turning slowly to find you holding back laughter at his expression. He fondly rolled his eyes again, before saying, “You, my dear, are an absolute fucking menance. And, if you were paying attention instead of nagging me this whole time, you would have noticed where we are.”

You took a moment to take in your surroundings. Your heart began to race when you realized where you were. It was a tree, one with Poe’s and your initials that you carved into the bark after a night of a bit too much to drink. It was where you said you loved him, where you first kissed, where you first slept together. It was where all of the big leaps in your relationship happened.

You weren’t ready for the next leap, and you hoped you were wrong. You hoped you wouldn’t be forced to send you and Poe to the bottom of the ravine, because you wouldn’t be making this leap. And your heart was threatening to escape your chest, beating against your ribs like a caged animal. Your breathing was starting to get harder and harder to control.

“Poe…”

“I know, I know, but-“

“Poe-“

“It’s the tree! It’s where you said you loved me-“

“Poe-“

“And so I figured that it would be the perfect place-“

“Poe!” You had to shout to get him to stop talking, to get him to stop from getting down on one knee, because he was planning on making the jump. He didn’t know that you wouldn’t be able to catch him on the other side, that you wouldn’t be able to stop you both from plummeting. “I can’t… this is… I’m so sorry,”

And now you really couldn’t breathe, and now you felt like the caged animal. You needed to leave. So, to spare yourself from having to look at Poe’s heart breaking through his eyes or trying to explain yourself through the breath sawing in and out of your chest, you ran. You turned away from him and ran back towards base as quickly as you could.

Poe’s mind was in overdrive, and he was completely shutting down. He should chase after you, make sure you’re ok, because this was not what was supposed to happen. He had a plan, and he planned to stick to it. But now, everything was falling apart, and he was falling apart, and he didn’t know what to do. So, he stayed standing there, breathing heavy and harshly blinking away his tears.

Your mom’s ring in your pocket, my picture in your wallet. Your heart was glass, I dropped it, champagne problems.

For the first time in years, Poe had slipped his mothers ring off of the chain he wore around his neck, and had slipped it into his pocket. It was nestled against the photo of you he kept in his pocket. He always wanted you to be with him, no matter where he was, and the creases of the photo where he had folded it were well worn.

Throughout the day, he slipped out the ring to turn it around in his hands, because he still wasn’t used to it being off the chain around his neck. Soon enough, he thought, he wouldn’t even have the ring with him. Oh, how wrong he was.

He should have asked you first, should have brought it up before springing it on you. But the moment he realized he wanted to marry you came out of nowhere, and since then, he’d been dying to ask. Because he always thought he knew what your answer would be. Oh, how wrong he was.

Despite his strength, Poe’s heart was weak, fragile with the wear of overflowing emotions. Poe was nothing if not explosive in his feelings, especially his love. He loved hard and with every fiber of his being. And still, his heart was fragile and he was scared of how easy it would be for it to be shattered.

So, he had placed it gently into your hands. Your hands were safe and gentle, you were safe. He never expected that his greatest heartbreak would come from those loving hands. And yet, you had squeezed until his heart was nothing but glass shards, scattered on the grass by his feet.

You told your family for a reason, you couldn’t keep it in. Your sister splashed out on the bottle, now no one’s celebrating.

He couldn’t tell you before it happened, but he needed to tell someone. That someone just happened to be practically everyone on base who Poe had talked to for more than 20 minutes. Black Squadron knew, the General knew, because it would have killed Poe to keep that a secret, to keep how much he loved you a secret.

It seemed like the right thing to do. Poe may have been reckless, but he wasn’t stupid. He wouldn’t have done it if he thought you would have said no. In his mind, there was no other way for you to answer besides yes. So, he told everyone he cared about, besides you.

Back on base, everyone had set up a celebration for you both. Stumbling over there after you had left him at the tree and telling them you said no was perhaps even more embarrassing than you running away. When you ran, he could pretend that you would come back. But having to explain to his friends that you had run, that made it feel real.

Even then, it seemed to Poe as if he was floating, as if it was just a nightmare, and any second now you would be shaking him awake and holding him securely in your arms, just like you always did. Instead, all he got were the sympathetic looks from his friends and a few pats on the back.

Someone, he couldn’t remember who, as if he had blocked it completely from his memory, had tried to blame you. They didn’t realize that Poe would never fault you for this, he loved you too much, he would never even think of being angry at you over something like this. And that was why he threatened to break the man’s nose, before he decided it was probably best to be alone and he staggered off to the empty hanger.

Dom Pérignon, you bought it. No crowd of friends applaud it, your hometown skeptics called it champagne problems.

At some point, Poe had left the hanger, surrounded by his own cloud of pity, following him like a hungry dog. He tried so hard to hate you. To hate you for making him feel like this, for turning him down, for making him explain it all to your friends, for everything. But he couldn’t, and he would never be able to. Because, as much as he wished he could blame you and make the pain go away, it only made it worse.

Poe left the hanger, only to wander aimlessly around base. It was early, and the hallways were empty. Seeing the normally bustling base so desolate seemed the perfect metaphor for what Poe was feeling as he continued to wander, slipping deeper and deeper into the cloud of sadness that was digging its claws into his heart. At some point, he made it to his door. Your door. At least, he assumed you were there.

Something in his brain was screaming at him to open the door, that you’d be able to talk this through if he could see you. Poe always trusted his instincts. But that’s what got him into this mess in the first place, that gut instinct he always relied on. So, with feet like concrete blocks, he pulled himself away from the door that concealed you. That was something he had never wanted to do.

He never wanted to pull away from you. He knew that he could be irrational and hard to deal with, that he could pull away and hide away from the world, receding into his own brain. He tried not to do that with you. He couldn’t change completely, so there had been times when you looked at him and it seemed as if he was looking through you. Even then, he never would have dreamed of physically retreating from you, leaving you. Yet, here he was, stumbling away from the door.

He carried on through the day in a daze, not really there. In his mind, he was replaying the night before over and over, trying to find where it all went wrong. There were plenty of people who seemed to think that if they blamed you, Poe would feel better. It only made him feel worse, to hear the way they were talking about you. Because, even though he shouldn’t, even though you shattered his heart, he still loved you, and he always would.

You had a speech, you’re speechless. Love slipped beyond your reaches and I couldn’t give a reason, champagne problems.

He had it all planned out, every last bit. He’d take you to the tree, to your tree, he’d get down on one knee, give you his speech and his mother’s ring, and go back to celebrate with your friends. That was what was supposed to happen. You were supposed to be crying happy tears, and showing off your ring, and you were supposed to be with Poe. But you weren’t, and his plan was useless and his mind was reeling.

He only got as far as the tree before you put an end to it, before you ended everything. He couldn’t even think of anything to say to make you stay, to make you talk it out with him. He wanted to yell for you, to shout and scream and make you stay, but for some reason, he couldn’t. He couldn’t do anything but sit and watch you go.

He had spent nights and nights writing out and planning his speech, to make it perfect for you, because you deserved perfection. And then, he couldn’t even say your name, couldn’t say anything to make you stay. The speech he had memorized and practiced in front of the mirror went unused. It was a good one, he thought you would have liked it.

He needed to talk to you, to listen to why you ran. Were you unhappy with him? Was it something he did? Was it something he could have fixed? Did he do this to himself? Was he so unobservant that he didn’t realize there was a problem?

Your Midas touch on the Chevy door, November flush and your flannel cure. “This dorm was once a madhouse,” I made a joke, “Well, it’s made for me”.

Poe was always with you, always ready to fix whatever you needed. He fixed everything for you, all of the big things to the most mundane. He could fix your rotten mood and kiss your bandages to make you feel better. But this, this he couldn’t fix. It was unfixable, you thought.

It never scared you before, the thought of forever. But suddenly, being faced with this question, of being together forever, in a world where so little is permanent, it was terrifying. You never thought you would have turned Poe down when he asked you to marry him. If anything, you were expecting it, you were waiting for it.

But, when the time came, it was like the whole universe came crashing down around you. It seemed as if this was the worst mistake you could ever make. Your brain told you to run, so you ran. And, you continued to hide and run from Poe for the next three days, avoiding the inevitable.

In reality, you were just staying in the room you and Poe had previously shared, but he was too scared and broken to go back there. While he was breaking down in the hanger, you were breaking down in your room, wishing more than ever that you could hold each other.

In a fit of emotions, rage and sadness and regret and fear, you had thrown things around, ripped shirts from hangers and threw the bedding on the floor. You needed a way to expel your emotions that wasn’t just crying, and this seemed the best route, until Poe came back, until you were confronted by the pain in his eyes.

You knew he had to eventually, and he had been putting it off as long as he could. He needed to see you, and he couldn’t wait any longer, so he finally found the courage to come back, to finally open the door. He didn’t knock, instead unlocking the door himself, because it would have been too horrible for you to change the code, to lock him out forever. And he was met with the result of your destruction.

You thought you’d be able to hold it together better, but even just the sight of his face caused your eyes to brim with tears.

“Was there a cyclone?” Poe breaks the minutes of tense silence, where you two had simply stared at each other, eyes slowly welling with tears, a sad attempt at a joke.

“No, just me,” you give a watery laugh, “So, an emotional cyclone, I guess.” Your joke fell flat, and you didn’t try to fill the silence again, and neither did Poe.

How evergreen, our group of friends. Don’t think we’ll say that word again and soon they’ll have the nerve to deck the halls that we once walked through.

In the few moments Poe’s been standing there, you think of what you’ve done. You know that you hurt him, and that this is your fault. But it makes it harder when you’re face to face, when you can tell that he’s been crying, when you can tell that he’s been trying to hide it.

When it hurts too much to look at him, you allow your mind and eyes to wander. Your eyes land on a pile of clothes by your feet, and your mind lands on your friends. You don’t think you’d get to call them that again, you don’t think you’ll be able to share anything with Poe after this.

You know that they’ll all be taking Poe’s side, even though there aren’t really any sides to be choosing. Still, all you’ll be to them is the bitch who broke Poe’s heart. But that thought doesn’t make you as sad as the look on Poe’s face does.

You don’t care about what everyone else thinks of you, what they’ll whisper behind your back. You already know that they’ll hate you, if they don’t already. But you also know that the one person who should hate you never will.

One for the money, two for the show, I never was ready so I watch you go. Sometimes you just don’t know the answer till someone’s on their knees and asks you.

There was more silence, and you took a few moments to pull yourself together and start talking, despite the fact that the whole speech you had planned went out the window the second you saw him. You knew that you had hurt him, but seeing the evidence on his face made your heart clench and absolutely shatter, until you were nothing but hollow.

“I’m sorry,” and as you say this, you already know it’s too little too late, but goddamn it, he at least deserves a genuine apology. And it was genuine, there were just no words left to describe how badly you felt. You couldn’t tell him why, because you still didn’t know why, so you settled for what he probably thought was a half-assed apology.

“I know you are,” Poe slumps onto the corner of your bed, his bed, the bed that you’d shared for years. But now, he looked like a stranger, he wasn’t comfortable there anymore. He looked completely and utterly defeated, shoulders hunched so he appeared curled in on himself. “Why? I thought…”

“I don’t know,” you glance up and look at him, which is quite possibly one of the dumbest things you’ve ever done because your throat is closing up the second you see his eyes, tired and red and puffy from crying. “I just… I always thought I would say yes, but then you asked me, and I… I couldn’t. I wish I could give you a better answer, you deserve a better answer.”

“I can wait,” and you’ve never heard his voice that small before, and you clench your eyes shut and take a shuddering breath to try and stop yourself from breaking down, “I’ll wait as long as you need me to.”

“I know you would,” you’re talking through sobs now, and through your blurry vision, you can see the tears rolling down his cheeks, “but you can’t do that. I’m not letting you.”

“You don’t get to decide that.”

“My answer will always be the same.”

“I know,” his voice is nothing more than a whisper now, and you can’t believe what you’ve done. You’ve taken the proudest, rowdiest, most boisterous, best pilot in the Resistance, and completely broken him down.

“She would have made such a lovely bride, what a shame she’s fucked in the head,” they said, but you’ll find the real thing instead, and she’ll patch up the tapestry that I shred

Before Poe decided to finally go back to you, to get an explanation, he had heard people whispering. People had been talking for the past three days, and while he supposes it’s supposed to make him feel better, that all these people are “on his side”, it only makes him feel worse.

It’s not her fault she got all fucked up, and God, what a wedding that would have been, too bad she’s been such a bitch seem to be the most popular opinions by the people on base. And Poe would have defended you, he just didn’t have the energy anymore, he didn’t have the energy to do anything.

“You’re still young,” you sniffle and pull him out of his head. You were always so good at that, grounding him. “you’ll find someone better.”

“There’s no one better, there’s nobody else for me.”

“Yes there is!” Your voice cracks, and Poe’s heart cracks along with it. “Because I’m not the one for you! I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.”

And now you’re both completely sobbing, struggling for breath, and Poe pulls you into his arms and you hold him against you. You can feel each other’s chests shaking with effort to breathe, and you can’t help but think that this is the last time you’ll get to hold him, the last time you’ll be this close.

“I wish it was me,” you whimper against his next, “I wish I was meant to be with you, Poe, but it’s not me. I’m sorry.”

“I know,” he squeezes you tighter, because really, deep down, Poe knows you’re right and he doesn’t resent you, even though he should.

He could never hate you. In fact, years later, he’ll be happy that this happened, in a strange, fucked up kind of way. He wouldn’t want to trap you in a marriage where you weren’t happy, and you wouldn’t have been happy with each other. The only way you would have resented each other was if you got married. This is the kind of revelation that happens once you’ve healed, and right now, Poe is nothing but broken.

So Poe doesn’t know that yet, so he just holds you a little tighter because he knows he’ll never get the chance to hold you this way again. So, he presses you closer and closer until you appear as one body, a tangle of limbs and your head tucked into the crook between his neck and shoulder. And you hold each other tighter than you think is possible.

And hold your hand while dancing, never leave you standing crestfallen on the landing, with champagne problems.

You dread the day that Poe finds someone else, but you know it’s inevitable. There is so much to love about him, and he has so much love to give, and sometimes, late at night when the darkness covers not only the landscape but fogs your brain, you find yourself wishing things were different.

You wish you had married him. You wish you had a family together, you wish you were happy together. But you know it’s not realistic, because it just wasn’t the right time. There would never be a right time. But it put a small smile on your face, so that was enough to keep you going, to stay happy for him.

Because while you were selfish, you needed Poe to be happy. You would have hated yourself if he ended up alone, or with you and you had broken his heart, done worse damage because you never gave him the opportunity to find the right person. Or rather, the right timing. Because you knew you were soulmates.

You knew that in another life, a universe without the war, you and Poe would be happily married. You’d live in a little house on the edge of a village, and you’d have a garden and a little family, and everything would be perfect. But not in this life, maybe in the next.

But the day you dread comes, and Poe’s finally found his person, and she wasn’t you. You knew it would happen, yet it still stings when you hear the news that he’s moved on. And you tried not to hate her, but that ball of resentment seemed to grow whenever you saw her. And there is one terrible little part of you that wonders if Poe will ever love her as much as he loved you.

Your moms ring in your pocket, her picture in your wallet, you won’t remember all my champagne problems.

And one day, you see the chain on Poe’s neck is empty, no ring weighing it down. By the smile on his face, you assume it’s on her finger. You can’t help but imagine how it would feel on your hand, it would have fit perfectly. You wonder if it’s been altered for her.

You can’t help but to think your picture has been replaced as well, with one of her. You know it wouldn’t be as creased as the photo of you, with the worn edges from where Poe often ran his finger along the border and creases of the photo when he was away.

You wonder if maybe, he doesn’t carry around her photo at all. Maybe she’s too precious to be carted around like that. Selfishly, you can’t help but to wonder where he moved your photo. Maybe he keeps it in his ship. Maybe BB8 keeps it safe, or maybe it’s locked away in a secret draw. Maybe he threw it out, burned it, tore it to pieces.

But you can’t entertain that thought for too long, because it only makes the ache in your chest worse, the hollowness of your rib cage pain you. But you did this to yourself, and now you have to live with it.

As much as you want to be happy for Poe, you can’t stop your mind from wandering, from entertaining fantasies you know are impossible. More often than not, you’re thinking of Poe, and you wonder if he thinks of you, and in what way.

Are his thoughts of you tinged with resentment, a hatred boiling deep in his stomach when he thinks of you? Or is it sadness and mourning that darkens his photos of you, pulling him into the depths of blue when his mind wanders?

Or perhaps it’s relief, a soft happiness that makes you glow in his mind, a fondness nestling in his chest when he can’t help but to think of his first love, his only love, his soulmate.

The Resistance

Chapter 4 of You Are In Love

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: modern!Poe Dameron x gn!reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: drinking, cursing

Author’s Note: this is the first time I’ve ever managed to write an actual slow burn

It takes you longer than you thought it would to finish your mural for Finn and Poe, with your limited time off and the even more limited time that your availability overlaps with theirs, but it gets finished and you feel beyond proud.

You had painted them a little section of outer space, complete with planets, stars, and moons. It was a little different than the work you typically do, but you knew that was what you wanted to paint once you saw the bar and its navy blue walls.

The piece fits seamlessly with the rest of the bar, and you’re on such a high from the completion of the painting and the endless praise from Finn and Poe that you don’t even fight them when they invite you to the bar and promise you drinks on the house.

You barely even worry as you get ready, fixing your hair and tugging on a “going out” dress that you barely wear, smiling at yourself in the mirror. You can’t remember the last time you felt so carefree, so confident, so effortlessly happy, and you’re still floating on air as you pull on your shoes when Rey and Rose knock on your door.

You’re greeted with wolf whistles and a “Goddamn!” from your best friends, adding more fuel to that joyful feeling in your chest. For a moment, you think about brushing off their compliments and muttering something about them being wrong, but instead you just duck your head and say thank you.

You’ve been missing the feeling of floating on air, and now that you have it, you’d do anything to keep it, including accepting compliments even when your brain screams that you don’t deserve them. But you try not to dwell on the negative thoughts worming their way into your head, and focus instead on the conversation Rey and Rose are having on the way down to the car.

From the bits and pieces you catch while you buckle yourself into the backseat, it sounds like a discussion of Rey’s coworker, a man named Kylo. According to their conversation, he continues to undermine her authority, despite the fact that she’s technically his superior. You tell her that she should just fire him, and while she laughs, you can tell from her eyes that she’s thinking about it.

Along the way, you end up tuning them out, turning your attention to the street lights that blur as you zoom past them and the warm night air rushing in through the open window. It’s the perfect weather to match your mood, warm and balmy even after the sun has set.

It’s your first time seeing the Resistance at night, and it looks completely different than it does in the mid afternoon sunlight. The entrance of the building is covered in twinkle lights, lighting up the brick façade. It feels warm and inviting, drawing you in like a moth to the flame.

You’re practically shaking, for once in your life not caused by anxiety, but by excitement. You let Rey and Rose lead the way into the building, trailing behind and admiring how different it looks in the moonlight.

The bar’s busy, but not too crowded to the point you’d feel claustrophobic. Practically every table and booth are filled, and so are most of the seats at the bar. But, as soon as you reach the bar, Poe is sliding your drink of choice into your hands, laughing at the look of shock on your face.

“I saw you guys come in, and I promised you free drinks, didn’t I?” There’s music playing and people talking, so he speaks louder than he normally would, but it doesn’t feel like you’re being shouted at.

“Thank you,” you reply as he works on Rey and Rose’s drinks, humming in delight when you take a sip.

“That’s the way you like it, right?” Poe asks, handing the girls their drinks and then pausing to look at you. You see relief wash across his face when you nod, and he adds with a proud smile, “I remember from game night.” And you can’t help but positively beam at that fact.

It seems unbelievable that Poe had managed to remember such a small thing about you when he has so many other things to worry about, especially related to drinks. But he remembers yours, even when you only had one at game night.

Your heart beats a little faster at the idea of Poe paying attention to something so small, closely enough to remember it almost a month later.

“It’s perfect,” you reply, before slapping a ten on the counter with a grin.

“Drinks are on the house, remember?”

“It’s your tip,” you reply, grin growing as Poe laughs, joy scrunching up his face in the most adorable way possible.

You don’t get to admire it for as long as you wanted to, because Rose is coming up next to you and tugging you away, leading you to an empty booth that Rey had managed to snag. You don’t feel bad though, because Poe’s busy and you know you’ll see him later, and you hope you can see him make that adorable face again.

You let your eyes wander around the room, taking in the buzzing of life and laughter that transforms the space into something completely different from the sun soaked empty room you’d been painting in.

You can see your mural on the opposite wall, an unconscious smile spreading across your face when your eyes land on it. You can’t even begin to describe the feeling that settles in your chest at seeing the final product, something you’d spent weeks planning and worrying and working on, and seeing so many people commenting on it.

This is the first time your art has been displayed in public, besides the small pieces that hang in Maz’s, but that’s different. Those are small canvases you’d painted for yourself that Maz had liked enough to hang up. This is a personalized mural for the Resistance, for Finn and Poe, and Poe will happily point you out to whoever who asks about the piece.

Most of the night you spend with Rey and Rose, laughing and catching up, but sometimes you go to get another drink and spend time talking with Poe, enjoying his smile and laugh and the way he seems so comfortable and confident behind the bar. There were also a few instances where other patrons had come over to compliment you on the mural, some even asking if you could do something for them or their businesses.

That made you feel lighter than air, and you’d caught Poe winking at you a few times after directing those patrons towards you.

You, Rey, and Rose stay at the Resistance far longer than you thought you would, and far longer than would have been possible if you weren’t friends with Finn and Poe. If this was any other bar, you would have been kicked out an hour ago. But instead, you’re sitting on a bar stool, finding it almost impossible to focus on the game of go fish when Poe’s standing right on the other side of the bar, happy and comfortable and beautiful.

The three of you had switched to drinking beer, so Finn and Poe didn’t have to do any more dishes. They even joined in, because technically the bar has been closed for almost an hour at this point, but none of you are quite ready to leave.

Instead, Finn had found a pack of cards behind the bar, and you all decided the easiest game to play was go fish. Even though you’re playing a children’s card game, Poe and Rose get ridiculously competitive, despite the fact that neither of them have won a single round.

But it doesn’t matter, because you’re happy and together and their playful shouting makes you burst out in laughter every time. The force of your love for these people hits you like a semi-truck, until you can feel the pressure of it on your chest. It’s not a constricting feeling, just one that’s impossible to ignore.

The game lasts another 30 minutes, until Rose is practically asleep, with her head resting on the bar. Finn offers to drop you off on his way to bring Rey and Rose safely home, but you aren’t quite ready to end the night, even if it’s the morning.

“I’ll lock up here, and then I can bring you home,” Poe offers, tying the cards back together with the rubber band they were found in.

“Are you sure?” While you want to jump at the offer, you really don’t want Poe to go out of his way for you, after everything he’s already done.

“Of course, it’s on my way,” he grins, and you know it’s a lie, but you say yes anyway because you’ll take any excuse to spend a little more time with Poe.

You help him wipe down the tables and bar while he takes out the trash, and soon enough you’re back in his passenger’s seat, the cool night air whipping your face as the streetlights blur past.

“You hungry?” He asks as you glance over at him and try not to stare at his profile, illuminated by the streetlights.

“I guess,” you respond before laughing because he’s already pulling into the parking lot of a 24 hour diner. “Were we going here no matter what I said?”

“No,” he says with a gentle smile and a soft look in his eyes that lets you know for sure he’s telling the truth, “I would have turned around if you asked me to.”

He grabs your hand in his, and gives it a squeeze as you walk towards the nearly empty diner. “I’m glad you agreed though, because I swear to god, these are the best waffles I’ve had in my entire life. You’ll never be the same after eating them.”

You laugh as he leads you to a sticky nylon booth and slides into the seat opposite of you. You both order the same thing, because now you need to try these supposedly life changing waffles. And, when you take your first bite, you admit through his over-the-top, far-too-loud-for-this-hour cheering, that they’re pretty damn good.

Your conversation starts out light, like updates about Poe’s cat, Bee, who recently decided that he only wants to sleep curled up in Poe’s bathroom sink or the new projects you're working on now that your mural for the Resistance is finished.

But, the conversation progresses naturally into the deeper, more substantial topics. You’d normally be anxious sharing so much with somebody so soon after meeting and becoming friends, and you could blame the alcohol or the late hour or how easy Poe is to talk to, but you don’t feel stressed at all.

“I never even went to college,” he says, pushing his empty, syrup covered plate towards the center of the table, “I joined right out of high school.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. Both of my parents were pilots in the Air Force, and my dad went commercial after my mom died when I was a kid. Did six years, met Finn, took over the Resistance for Leia.”

“Do you ever wish you hadn’t joined?” Your question makes him think, and with his heavy silence you’re worried that you’d pushed too far, that you aren’t close enough to ask him that type of question.

“No,” he finally answered, and you mentally let out a sigh of relief, “I think about what would have happened if I didn’t sometimes, and nothing would be the same. I wouldn’t have Finn or Rey or Rose or you, I wouldn’t be running the Resistance, I wouldn’t have gotten Bee. I mean, it wasn’t the best, but it brought me here, so it was good for something.”

He doesn’t say anything after that, instead taking a drink of the sugary sweet lemonade he has ordered while you mull over what he had told you. It’s comforting, you think, that every single decision you’ve made, bad or good, has led you to this point. It led you to Rose and Rey, to Finn and Poe, to your degree and your job at Maz’s, to the galaxy mural in the middle of the Resistance.

It led you right here, to a 24 hour diner, sitting in a sticky booth with Poe Dameron seated across from you.

“So what about you?” Poe asks, shocking you out of your thoughts and causing you to jump a little, which makes him stifle a laugh.

“What about me?” You counter and smile at the way Poe fails to suppress his grin.

“Anything. Your hopes, your dreams, your tragic backstory. Anything you want to tell me.”

“Well, I don’t have a very tragic backstory, but I don’t talk to my parents anymore because they suck. I had a typical childhood, nothing interesting ever really happened to me.”

“I’m sure you’ve got some wild stories hidden in that brain of yours.” Poe interrupts, shooting you a smile.

“Can I keep going?”

“Of course, of course,” he puts his hands up in mock surrender, and it’s your turn to smile for him.

“My dream… my dream is to be able to make art full time, enough to support myself. It’s not that I don’t love working at Maz’s, because I do, that’s just not what I want to do with my life.” You pause and gather your thoughts before continuing, “I want to get married someday, maybe have a few kids but definitely get a dog. We’d move out of the city, but not too far, to a house with a big backyard and a front porch. There’d be a garden, and I’d paint the front door yellow and the kitchen green.”

You didn’t realize you’d been rambling, and you also hadn’t realized the way Poe was staring at you. It made you feel butterflies, made you feel a weight in your chest you’d never felt before. You felt weightless and pulled down at the same, flying and sinking.

He clearly hadn’t realized he’d been staring, because he seems to jump when you accidentally slurp your drink a little too obnoxiously.

“That sounds… that sounds like a good dream,” he says, still a little starry-eyed, “You ready to go?”

Poe insists on paying, and when you try to tip he sticks it back in your purse when you aren’t looking. The drive to your apartment is similar to the drive to the diner with its silence, but now it feels weighty, like you’re both waiting for the other to say something important.

All too soon for your liking, Poe is pulling to a stop outside of your building. After unbuckling, you sit for a minute, trying to figure out the right thing to say before settling on squeezing his hand where it rests on the gearshift with a “Goodnight, Poe” and you turn around to give him a wave when you reach the door, one that he returns before driving off.

You hurry through your nighttime routine, and barely manage to pull back the covers before you’re flopping over and falling asleep. That joyful, floaty feeling returns as you slip into your dreams, and as you think of that dream life, you’re picturing Poe beside you.

Tags: @aellynera @userpoe @dailyreverie @stevenngrant @creatively-analytical @poopirate @luckynachos @captainpuffyrp @tiquinntheghost

omg headcanons for poe when he realizes best friend!reader has feelings for him/how he goes ab confessing?

oooh i love this one -- i kinda wrote it from the perspective that have mutual feelings

poe would be the first to realise his feelings for you. it would be like "yeah just because i hang out with them everyday and i'm messaging them when i'm not with them and i feel sad when they're gone doesn't mean i love them - oh wait yeah it does"

and everyone else, especially finn, is like oh my GOD finally you realised

like you know that scene in friends when rachel is like "why didn't you tell me i'm in love with ross?!" and phoebe is like "we all thought you knew!" bc it's exactly that

he'd be hesitant at first to do anything about it. a) bc you're his best friend and your friendship is everything to him and b) what if you don't like him back

which is a whole stupid and a half because you're having your own whole ass crisis over here over the exact same thing

and once again all your friends are like oH MY GOD WE FUCKING KNOW

but obviously none of them are going to spill the beans to either of you because it's not their place and honestly? it's pretty funny watching you to try to work it out on your own

i think it would take a pretty big event for it come to head eventually. maybe a dangerous mission that goes wrong, or a near-miss out in the field that makes one of you realise life is short

poe would probably be having a go at you for doing something stupid in said dangerous scenario or vice versa and you'd yell something like

"THIS IS STUPID. I LOVE YOU."

"YEAH WELL I LOVE YOU TOO"

"GREAT"

"COOL"

"FINE"

and honestly?? how else would it happen

it's beautiful and chaotic, but that's exactly how it should be