sabxism - Tumblr blog

sabxism · 1 year

Text

living for how cute and cozy this is!!

A Confession of Sorts

Chapter 12 of You Are In Love

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: modern!Poe Dameron x reader

Warnings: none!

Word Count: 2.1k

Author’s Note: I feel like they’ve been yearning for years… maybe a little while longer

You spend the next morning as an anxious mess.

After confirming to meet Poe around lunchtime, you immediately shut off your phone and went to bed, even though you spent what felt like hours tossing and turning and begging for sleep. Eventually, you drift off, your dreams full of rejection and eternal loneliness.

You know it’s silly to be nervous, but your hands still shake as you get ready, even as you’re tugging on your coat and beginning your freezing walk to the bakery Poe wanted to meet at.

Despite the cold and the fluttering snowflakes, you enjoy your walk. It gives you time to distract yourself with softer thoughts, like planning gifts for your friends and decorations for your apartment, like wondering if the snow will stick or melt. Even though Thanksgiving just passed and it’s still technically autumn, you’ve decided that it’s winter.

You’ve just about fully planned your winter apartment decor when you make it to the bakery and see Poe seated at a small table, and his eyes light up when he sees you walk through the door after looking up at the sound of the bell. He’s wearing a beanie and a chunky sweater and you just about lose your mind because how is it far that he can look so adorable while you’re an anxious mess?

If only you knew he was thinking the same thing about you and your hand-knit scarf and thick coat, snowflakes sticking to your hair.

“Hi,” you say as you approach him, keeping your voice down in the intimate shop, couples and groups crowded at nearby tables.

“Hi,” he repeats, and soon you’re both just standing there, unsure of what comes next and who moves first.

“You want something to drink, your usual?” He asks, already taking a step towards the counter.

“Yeah, that… that would be perfect.” You sink into your seat, a bit stunned that he knows what you order, your heart an absolute riot in your chest.

Poe returns a few minutes later, your drink in hand, brushing off both your thanks and your attempts to pay him back. For a few minutes, everything is peaceful, the two of you simply sitting together, chatting idly while the snow falls outside.

“Are you upset with me?” Poe finally asks the question that’s been weighing him down for weeks, too nervous for an answer to ask it before. You sputter and almost choke on your drink in surprise.

“Of course not,” you reassure him, reaching across the small table to squeeze his hand, “I promise.”

“Ok,” he nods and smiles, a relieved smile, “it just seemed like you were avoiding me for a bit, that’s all.”

“Well… I was, but not because of anything you did, I promise!” You hold your hands up in a strange attempt to keep him calm when his eyes drop, a frown forming on his lips.

“Why?”

“Because I kissed you? And that was weird of me to do?”

“Oh… right.” He responds, as if that event wasn’t nearly as earth shattering for him as it had been for you. “I mean, it was an accident. No harm done.” And then he smiles that brilliant smile of his, and you’re knocked off your feet.

He’s right, once you stop to think about it; it was a complete accident, a silly mistake that you could have laughed about if you hadn’t freaked out and run for the hills. Still, you’re glad that everything is cleared up now, and you no longer have to worry about Poe secretly hating you.

“Good,” you smile, feeling lighter than you have in weeks, because everything really is ok. It’s still snowing when you’ve finished your drinks, the flakes falling fat and steady, swirling around before meeting the ground and sticking to it. It’s picture perfect winter weather, if you remain inside.

“Wanna go for a walk?” Poe asks, already standing from his chair and wrapping a thick scarf around his throat.

“In this?” You respond, glancing out the large windows, even though you’re following suit and standing from your chair, tugging your hat back on your head.

“Mh-hm.” He nods with a smile, so once you’ve both bundled up, he leads you from the cafe and out into the snow.

When you step outside, it’s like stepping into a snow globe. Your quaint little city has been transformed into the set of a Hallmark movie, complete with twinkly lights and swirling snow. It all seems a little too perfect, but you want to enjoy the snow while you can, before it turns to slush and the world turns grey and leaving your house becomes a chore.

Poe grabs you by the hand, leading you down the snowy streets. You aren’t sure where he’s taking you, but you’d follow him anywhere.

Even so, after a few minutes of aimlessly walking, after your nose has started to feel like it’s going to fall off, you ask, “Where are you taking me?”

“Nowhere in particular,” Poe shrugs, squeezing your hand gently, “just wanted to walk with you.”

Suddenly, you’re warm all over, you can barely even feel the chill of the air, can barely feel the freezing cold snowflakes landing on your eyelashes. For a moment, you think about pausing and pulling Poe into a hug, to feel more of that warmth, but instead you settle for squeezing his hand in return.

After wandering through the falling snow for a few minutes longer, Poe pulls you to a stop near a park bench, brushing off the seat to keep your clothes from becoming cold and wet. You sit close to him, telling yourself it’s just because you’re cold.

“You know about our holiday traditions, right?” Poe asks you after a few minutes of enjoying the picturesque scenery in comfortable silence.

“I’ve heard bits and pieces from Rose over the last year,” you tell him, turning your attention fully to him.

The way he looks with his cheeks ruddy from the cold and snowflakes sticking to his eyelashes takes your breath away.

“Well, a couple’a days before Christmas, we all get together - you’re coming this year?” He pauses, waits for you to nod before continuing, “we get together, probably at Rose’s place, and we do the whole gift exchange, big dinner, holiday movies type of thing.”

“And we always do it early because Rose takes Rey to spend the real holiday with her sister’s family. And Finn always comes over to my place Christmas Eve, and my dad comes up, and it’s really a causal thing, but it’d mean a lot to me if you’d want to stop by for an hour or two.”

Poe’s rambling, spilling any word that appears in his brain because he can’t stand the idea of silence right now, can’t possibly entertain the idea that you’d turn him down after how long it took him to gather the courage to ask you. Really, he knows that it would be alright for you to politely decline his invitation, but his heart might just break a little.

“That sounds great,” you tell him, stopping his babbling with a grin and the gentle way you set your hand on top of his. Really, you want to get up and scream with joy, but that would only make you seem crazy, not only to Poe but to the people hurrying past. So instead, you settle for what you deem the more appropriate response.

“Perfect,” Poe grins in return, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen a prettier sight. “You ready to walk back? My hands are starting to freeze,” he chuckles, rubbing his hands together for warmth.

“Let’s go,” you stand from the bench, holding your hand out for Poe to grab on to. It takes him a moment of simply staring at your outstretched hand before he takes it, and the two of you begin your walk back to the cafe.

As you walk, you and Poe talk about nothing and everything. You talk about work, about your favorite parts of the holidays, about Finn and his good natured meddling. It’s wonderful to finally catch up with him after all of the time you’ve spent anxiously wondering whether Poe hates you or not. It’s nice to have a definite answer, to quiet your brain and just enjoy the moment.

The snow has slowed down, drifting gently towards the Earth in dramatic swirls and flourishes. The snow, and Poe by your side, almost make the cold worth it. Still, you’re thankful when you finally reach the warm glow of the cafe again, and you’re even more thankful when Poe offers to give you a ride back to your apartment.

That familiar peacefulness of Poe’s car overtakes you, and it’s better than you’d remember to simply sit and bask in the comfortable silence, the gentle sounds of the radio and the snowflakes falling against the windshield. You and Poe are mostly silent, but you’re just happy to be near him, to share the same space with him again.

When you exit, he plants a kiss on your forehead, pulling away with a cheeky smile and a “To avoid any mishaps.” Your mouth drops open in shock, but then he’s giggling, and Poe’s laughter is the most infectious noise on the planet, so soon the two of you are sitting in his parked car in front of your apartment building, doubled over with laughter.

After a few minutes, you pull it together enough to say one last goodbye before exiting the car, rushing into the building against the cold. Once you're safely inside and feel the warm air rushing over you, you turn to wave at Poe, who’s already waving back. With one last grin, you turn away and head up to your apartment.

Your own apartment feels brighter, feels warmer, upon your return, almost as if the imaginary weight Poe had lifted from your shoulders has made your whole life lighter. Changing into comfortable clothes, you turn on some festive music and set about making your apartment holiday ready.

Lights and garland get strung around, and you add deep red and forest green throw pillows onto your couch, throwing some thick blankets on the back of it for good measure. You don’t stop until your whole apartment has been transformed, making sure even your bathroom and studio get some festive decor.

Now, with everything all decorated, you finally feel ready for the season, ready to soak up time with your loved ones in warm living rooms, in front of fireplaces, and crowded in kitchens. You’re sure some sort kf outdoor adventure awaits you as well, feeling certain that Rose will drag you ice skating at least once.

Once you’re confident that you apartment has gotten a full dose of holiday cheer, you turn off the festive music you’d been playing and settle onto your couch to watch whatever cheesy, made-for-TV holiday movie that’s currently playing. Glancing down at your phone, you notice a text from Rose, sent to the groupchat.

Our little extravaganza will be Dec 20 at my place! No Secret Santa or White Elephant because some of us are too immature for that - so just bring something small for everyone if you feel so inclined!! And some snacks because I don’t feel like doing all the cooking :)

You send a thumbs up, and mentally set about planning for everyone’s gifts while you let the movie play, tuning in and out of the storyline.

It’s not my fault not everyone can appreciate my gifts

It’s Finn who replies, after everyone’s confirmed Rose’s plan, and you’re not even a little bit surprised that Finn’s the one who ended the secret gift exchanges. He’s full to the brim with youngest sibling energy, an agent of unending love and chaos. You’re beyond lucky to call him your friend, even as you sit shaking your head at the playful argument he’s started.

It doesn’t take you very long to decide on gifts for Rey and Rose, and you know that Finn would be happy with absolutely anything you gave him. Poe, however, causes you some trouble.

You want to get him something meaningful, something he’ll truly love, but you don’t want to come on too strong. It’s a struggle to determine what would be too revealing of a gift to get, because you’re not ready to have all of your cards on the table yet, but you still want to show him how much you care about him.

It takes you a few more hours and two more cringey Christmas movies, until you’re snug in your bed and trying to drift off, to think of the perfect gift for Poe. Quickly, you jot your idea down on your phone so you don’t forget it as you sleep, and you feel more relaxed than you have in weeks.

Tags: @disabledameron @andromeda-dear @dailyreverie @stevenngrant @aellynera @creatively-analytical @tiquinntheghost @luckynachos @fallinallinmendes @sabxism @ghostsongwriter-22 @poopirate @loonymagizoologist @stvnnie @campingwiththecharmings @outmodead @welcometostayingawake

80 notes · View notes

sabxism · 1 year

Photo

292K notes · View notes

sabxism · 1 year

Text

society if i could spend thanksgiving w them >>>

THE SIDE HUG AND THE HEAD KISS IM MELTING

The Thanksgiving Episode

Chapter 11 of You Are In Love

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: modern!Poe Dameron x reader

Warnings: none :)

Word Count: 2.3k

Author’s Note: everything will be fine… at some point. Also, I hope everyone who celebrates has a great thanksgiving, send my love to y’all

Unfortunately, your plans to stay locked up in your apartment forever are thwarted when you realize you have work, and that Rose is closing with you.

Most of your morning is spent trying to reassure yourself that Rose won’t hate you and there’s nothing to worry about. Still, your hands shake as you open up the back door and tie on your apron, preparing yourself for the worst.

“Hey!” Rose says when she enters the kitchen, a bright smile on her face. It takes you aback, but you recover quickly and grin at her in return.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever!” You exclaim as she hurries over to squeeze you into a quick hug. It probably hadn’t been more than a week, but you’d become so used to seeing her on a daily basis that even going a few days feels like you’ve been separated for eternity.

“I know!” The two of you make your way to the front of the shop, where the line is dwindling down as it gets closer to closing time. Even being with Rose for just a few seconds works wonders to calm you down; she could never truly hate you, especially not over something as silly as accidentally kissing a mutual friend.

It’s nice, being able to just chat and catch up with Rose as you work, the number of customers dwindling the closer you got to closing time, until you flipped the sign to ‘closed’ and it was only you and Rose inside the shop.

“Thanksgiving plans?” Rose asks, wiping down the counter as you sweep.

“No,” you start, continuing with your tasks, “I normally just hang out at home, start watching holiday movies.”

“Well, we - me and Rey and Finn and Poe - do this ‘friendsgiving’ type thing where we all just bring food and hang out, if you want to come over?”

Despite the way you feel your heart stutter and stop at the mention of his name, you can’t deny how nice that sounds, to spend a holiday with the little family you’d found. It sounded absolutely perfect, your mistake pushed to the back of your mind to make room for your excitement.

“That sounds really nice.”

“Perfect!” She grins, causing a smile to grow on your own face, “We’ll start planning soon, I’ll let you know when we have more details about what to bring and when to come and all that.”

Ever since you started college, the holidays have been a rough time for you, especially such a family-centric holiday like Thanksgiving. For years, you’d been spending it alone, trying to pretend like it’s just a normal day and that you don’t feel a twinge of jealousy when you’d see the pictures your friends post of happy families gathered around a dinner table on your feed.

But now, it seems like this year will be different. Instead of the typical dread you felt as November progressed, you felt a strange type of anticipation, of excitement, bubbling up in your gut. It reminds you of the way you used to feel about the holidays, back when everything felt magical and you waited desperately for the first snowfall.

You spend the day before Thanksgiving in a baking frenzy, movies and music playing as you prep and mix and bake and cool, and repeat over and over again. You’d volunteered to bring dessert, and you’d planned on just making a pumpkin pie but then you weren’t sure if everyone liked pumpkin pie so you decided to make a pecan pie too and then you decided you might as well make a batch of chocolate chip cookies.

And while that normally would have stressed you out, you find yourself more calm than you’ve been in a while. It’s wonderful, to zone out and focus on measuring the right amount of each ingredient, of switching your brain from baking mode to cleaning mode when one treat is in the oven, and then back to baking mode to start on your next dessert.

This is the way holidays should feel, you think: a whirlwind in the best way possible. You’re fueled by adrenaline, not anxiety. You knew that if you only show up with a pumpkin pie, no one would be upset, removing the pressure you’d feel otherwise to make each dessert absolutely perfect, allowing you to simply enjoy yourself.

Once your baking is complete, you take a long, hot shower before dressing in your coziest pajamas, resisting the urge to spend the rest of your night watching holiday movies. Instead, you watch a few reruns of your favorite feel-good TV show and head to bed, feeling exhausted and excited for the day to come.

You aren’t supposed to be meeting at Rey and Rose’s apartment until lunchtime, so you spend the morning slowly, enjoying a nice breakfast and taking the time to really take care of yourself. You package up the desserts and get yourself ready, spending a little extra time to mentally prepare yourself for seeing Poe.

In the weeks since the incident, you haven’t spoken to him at all, your dead flowers remain on your nightstand. You’d been too scared to talk to him and too scared to get rid of the flowers, and now you’re regretting it, you can practically feel the awkwardness already.

But you try your hardest to push those thoughts out of your mind, taking a few deep breaths and focusing back in on getting ready and just enjoying the holiday with your favorite people. Because even after what happened, what you did, Poe’s still one of your favorite people ever.

Surprising to no one, you’re the first to arrive at Rey and Rose’s, greeted by a very flustered Rose who’s convinced her mashed potatoes still aren’t quite right. You greet her with a shoulder bump, your arms laden down with desserts. You remind her that everything she makes is perfect, and shout out your greeting to Rey, who’s still getting the dining room set up.

Sometimes it amazes you, how the two of them work so well together. In so many aspects of life, they’re complete opposites. Rose is a planner, through and through, and Rey is a last minute, ‘go with the flow’ type of person. Rey thinks if you’re not early, you’re late, and Rose always shows up just on time.

Though, their opposition is what works best about their relationship: Rey sleeps on the left side and Rose on the right. Rose cooks, Rey does the dishes. They’re so in love with each other, and you know that those little differences are what make them so wonderful. All you hope for is that one day, you can have a relationship that works as smoothly as theirs.

Soon, Finn is entering the kitchen with his contributions to the meal, which is just a variety of alcohol that you assume was taken from The Resistance. As soon as his arms are free, he’s wrapping everyone into a hug, taking his time to give everyone a proper squeeze. Hugs used to make you uncomfortable, but now you know there’s nothing better than a hug from Finn, he always knows the perfect amount of pressure to apply, how long to keep you wrapped in his arms.

The four of you are crowded in the kitchen, just laughing and catching up as music plays softly from someone’s phone when Poe arrives, carrying what looks like twenty different containers. A friendly, loving argument breaks out, with Poe repeating “You just said ‘side dishes’! That's a vague term!” over and over while you and Finn look on and struggle to contain your laughter.

You’d almost forgotten about your mishap until Poe’s greeting everyone individually, and there’s a part of you that assumes he’ll just skip over you, give you a wave and ignore you the rest of the night. Instead, he comes over and tugs you into a one armed hug, planting a kiss on the top of your head. All of the tension leaves your body.

Soon, all of the food has been arranged at the table, and you and your friends are sitting down to eat. You’re overwhelmed with your feelings, overtaken by how much love you have for your friends. You’d spent so many holidays alone, being able to spend one with the people you loved most in the whole world seemed like a miracle.

Hours are spent at that dining room table, everyone eating and laughing and having a good time, making you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Eventually, the meal is replaced by your desserts, and your friends pile on the compliments, making you feel beyond cared for.

After you all help with the dishes, or at least try and help with the dishes before Rey shoos you all away, you arrange yourselves in the living room, spreading out across chairs and couches and the floor. The whole day, and the days leading up to it, have felt hectic and frantic, making this lounging even better.

Even though spending time with your friends like this is a regular occurrence, there’s just something extra special about it being a holiday, something that makes it extra wonderful to be with your favorite people.

Because of your late lunch, by the time dinner rolls around no one wants to move, too full to even think about getting up from your seats. Poe, though, heaves himself up off the couch with a groan.

“I’ve gotta go, my dad’ll be here in an hour or so.”

Everyone protests, shouting at him to stay even as he waves you all off and gathers up the containers he brought before pulling on his jacket and shoes. At this point, everyone mustered the energy to get up and say goodbye. You, though, try and linger, wanting to steal a few moments away for you to just talk with him, to make sure that everything is really ok, that your mishap has been forgiven and hopefully forgotten.

You end up cornering him in the entryway, after the rest of your friends returned to the living room.

“We’re good, right?” You ask, whispering so only Poe can hear.

“Of course we are,” he squeezes your hand for extra emphasis, “my dad’s gonna be in town for a few days, but we should meet up, catch up and hang out and everything.”

He sounds nervous, uncharacteristically so, but you just brush it off, ignore it as stress for the impending arrival of his dad, who you know he loves more than anything and most likely is trying to make his visit as perfect as possible.

“That sounds great,” you tell him, even though it actually sounds awful and you’re already feeling nervous, “have a good night.”

“You too,” he responds with one last squeeze to your hands, and then he’s out the door.

You take a minute to collect yourself, to stop yourself from thinking the worst about Poe’s odd behavior, and then head back out to the living room.

“What was that about?” Rose asks as you emerge from the front hall and seat yourself on the couch next to Finn.

“Oh, I just left something in Poe’s car last time I was with him, I wanted to see if he still had it.” Rey and Rose nod in understanding at your lie, but Finn isn’t so easy to convince.

Luckily, though, he doesn’t say anything beyond an “mhm” as you sit next to him on the couch.

For the next few hours, you stay in the comfortable atmosphere of Rose’s living room, filled with warmth from the drink in your hand and your friends around you. Eventually, you all call it a night, wonderfully full and feeling wonderfully happy, with exhaustion starting to creep in.

Finn gives you a ride home, and you laugh so hard you’re spending most of your time in the car crying and struggling to breathe. You’re not sure how Finn’s able to hold it together enough to drive. When he parks outside of your apartment, you have to spend a moment bracing yourself for the cold, after which you lean over to plant a friendly kiss on Finn’s cheek in lieu of a goodbye.

“At least you didn’t kiss me smack on the mouth,” he tells you as you pull away, and you can tell he’s fighting a smile as your mouth drops open in shock.

“That was uncalled for!” You exclaim, struggling to get words out through your laughter.

He laughs even harder, cackling as you smack him on the shoulder before shouting a goodbye as you race out of the car, running from the cold until you reach your building. You send Finn one more wave before you head up to your apartment.

It’s perfectly warm when you enter your front door, the lamp you left on casting the space in a golden light. You kick off your shoes and change into comfy clothes, settling in on the couch with a fluffy blanket. You feel happy in a way you haven’t before on a holiday, and you realize this is how things should be.

You shouldn’t have to spend holidays alone. You shouldn’t have to spend holidays agonizing over whether you should reach out to try and get together. You shouldn’t have to spend holidays wondering if your best friend hates you after a silly mistake.

Tonight, you feel none of those things.

You warm up the leftovers Rose pushed on you as you left, and turn on your favorite holiday movie, ready to get in the spirit now that Thanksgiving is over, feeling a weightlessness you haven’t felt on this day in ages.

A few hours later, when the world starts freezing over and snowflakes flutter past your windows, your phone buzzes with a message.

Plans tomorrow? We should talk soon

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

78 notes · View notes

sabxism · 1 year

Text

SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP

A Walk in the Park

Chapter 10 of You Are In Love

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: modern!Poe Dameron x reader

Warnings: none :)

Word Count: 2k

Author’s Note: it’s happening (or is it)

The flowers on your doorstep become a routine. Every two or three week, right when the old flowers start wilting and dying, there's a new bouquet waiting for you when you open your front door. Sometimes there’s a note and sometimes there isn’t, but you always make sure to text Poe and thank him.

The night after the farmers market, the first time he left flowers, you sent Poe a long, sappy text about how much you appreciate him and everything he does and how much you loved the flowers. You’d been terrified that it was too much, that it revealed too much, but the flowers kept coming and you calmed down.

Though, you never told the rest of your friends about it. You knew they, meaning Finn, would turn it into a big deal about how Poe’s obviously in love with you instead of taking it as the friendly gesture it was. Besides, you enjoyed keeping this little thing to yourself.

Poe never brings it up either, but sometimes when he comes over, you notice the way his eyes catch on the vase on your kitchen table and how his lips rise into a gentle smile. It’s not something you’d asked for, but you think that if he were to stop, you’d feel like something was missing.

It’s totally innocent, completely platonic, and you try impossibly hard not to read too much into it, into the way he chooses flowers in your favorite color or certain flowers you’d mentioned liking. Really, how could anyone not fall a little bit in love with someone who listens to them so carefully, who actually cares about the answers to their questions.

Still, you never bring up the flowers or the feelings that are becoming harder and harder to control. You have to keep telling yourself that it’s better this way, that everything would fall apart if you were to mention anything about the way you feel to Poe again. Maybe you’d get lucky and he wouldn’t fully understand you again, but you’re not willing to take your chances.

So, life carries on, with you working and painting and internalizing your emotions, the same thing you’ve done since you met Poe. Though, you know this sense of normalcy can only continue for so long, that eventually there will be a breaking point.

You just hope it’s far off.

Lately, you and Poe have been spending more time together, alone, something that has absolutely nothing to do with the bouquets and your impossible crush on him. He has a car, and sometimes you need his help transporting paintings throughout the city.

And then, the two of you end up going out to lunch, or walking around and exploring the areas of town you rarely venture to, finding plenty of little stores and parks that you want to visit more often. It’s so easy spending time with Poe, sometimes you even forget that you’re totally in love with him.

Today, Poe was helping you bring a large canvas to a restaurant on the other side of the city when you both decided that you had nothing else to do other than spend the day together.

You spent the morning just walking around, window shopping and catching up, as if you don’t see each other practically every day. It seemed impossible to run out of things to talk about with Poe, the conversations always flowed so naturally from one topic to the next.

Around mid-morning, the two of you stumble into a bakery, deciding to purchase a few pastries to share for a snack as you continue on your walk. You have no destination in mind, letting your feet lead you as you and Poe continue to talk about everything that comes to mind.

Eventually, the two of you find a little park and seat yourself on an open bench, the pastry bag between you, seated behind a small path on the edge of a pond. The conversation lulls, but neither of you mind, content to sit with each other in silence and people watch.

You can’t think of any other person who you’d be so content with, even if you aren’t talking. There’s just something about being near Poe that puts you at ease, and you hope that he feels the same about you. There are quite a few feelings you desperately hope Poe reciprocates, but feeling comfortable with you, the way you feel with him, is the most important to you.

At some point, you slip your sketchbook and a pencil from your bag, making quick drawings of the people walking past, the plants and the wildlife. And a few drawings of Poe, of his gorgeous profile as he stares away at the park, head turning and catching the sunlight perfectly as he follows a family of ducks wading in the pond.

The only way you can tell that time is passing is by the shifting light of the sun through the trees and the way your fingers start to numb from the chill in the air that accompanied the changing seasons. Your hand is starting to become molded to your pencil, and you notice Poe’s cheeks turning rosy.

“We should probably head back, I told Finn I’d meet ‘im twenty minutes ago,” Poe breaks the silence, even though he looks as if moving is the last thing on his mind. You snap your sketchbook closed, praying that Poe didn’t happen to catch a glance of his many faces scattered across the pages.

“You should have said something,” you say as you gather up the rest of your belongings, Poe stretching as he stands.

“I didn’t want it to end,” he confesses in such a casual way you almost don’t comprehend what he says, but when you do, the only way you reply is with the involuntary smile that blooms on your face.

The walk back to where Poe parked is just as lovely as your walk in the morning, except there’s something twinging at the back of your head, something that you want to say but know will cause the perfect little bubble you’ve created to come crashing down.

The two of you make your way to Poe’s car and begin the drive back to your apartment. The conversation flows easily, the way it always does with you and Poe. You’re hit with the realization that most people spend their whole lives searching, fighting, for what you have right in front of you.

You can deny it all you want, tell Finn and yourself that he doesn’t feel the same way about you, but deep down you know that this is a once in a lifetime feeling. You feel safe with him, comfortable to the point that you’d tell him your deepest fear if that fear wasn’t the fact that you think he’ll reject you.

Now you understand the crazy things people will do for love, the sacrifices they make, because even if Poe doesn’t feel the same, you can sense that this is your one great love, the only chance you get. It’s these quiet moments with him, where neither of you are talking and neither of you feel the need to talk, that solidify that thought in your mind.

The next thought that pops up, the one you’re trying so hard to push away, is: you need to tell him. You’ve been finding it impossible to even entertain that thought without your mind jumping through all of the possible worst case scenarios. You’re terrified to say something and have it all come crashing down, to lose the friendship with Poe that you cherish so much.

Finn, though, is like the little devil on your shoulder, using every opportunity he gets to try and convince you to tell Poe. Sometimes, when Poe’s looking away, Finn’ll make the most exaggerated faces that you take for another push to spill your secrets to Poe.

On the bright side, at least, as far as you know, Rey and Rose are unaware of your crush, if you can even still call it that.

When does it pass from being a crush to being in love? Does it need to be reciprocated? Do you need to say it out loud?

There’s a part of you that just wants all of the tension and anxiety to disappear, that wants to just blurt out that you’re sure you’re in love with Poe. But, the other more logical parts of your brain win over every time, no matter how close you get to spilling your secrets.

It’s always in the quiet moments that you feel the pull to tell Poe, when it’s just the two of you and the quiet hum of his car on the road. In all of your life, you’ve never felt as comfortable as you do sitting side by side with Poe as he drives. There’s just something about it that relaxes and soothes you, that gives you time to appreciate every aspect about Poe without it feeling like you’re staring too obviously.

But, sometimes, you get a little carried away, studying and appreciating his side profile, that you don’t even realize the car had stopped and you’re outside of your apartment building.

Poe just smiles in that wonderful way of his, as if he’s too polite to call you out on your staring, like he really doesn’t mind.

You want to thank him, for the wonderful day and for blowing off his other obligations to help you out and just spend time with you. You unbuckle and lean forward, aiming to plant a quick, friendly kiss against his cheek when he abruptly turns his head.

Suddenly, you’re kissing, for real, and it’s strange. You’re in shock, neither of you are moving, it feels like it’s lasting forever, and then you’re propelling backwards, wrenching the door open and bolting from the car. You slam the door shut and practically sprint to your apartment, appalled and embarrassed and angry at yourself.

You’d just ruined the best friendship you’ve ever had. In one single second, everything has come crashing down around you.

You wrench your door open, slamming it shut as you dash inside in an attempt to put as much physical distance between you and your mistake, as if you could run far enough and have the problem disappear. You stay there, back pressed against your door and eyes pressed shut until you feel less like the world is falling apart around you.

Achingly slow, you remove your shoes and make your way into your apartment, feeling as if what just happened was pushing you down, pulling you through the floorboards. Your heart was breaking and your stomach was twisting, your brain screaming at you for messing everything up.

How could you move on from this? How could you even begin to apologize, to fix your mistake?

Your brain is coming up with every possible worst case scenario, ones where you’re left behind and lonely forever, because why would he stay friends with you after that? You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to fend off the overwhelming urge to lock yourself in your apartment for the rest of your life.

It takes a while, but eventually, you calm down a bit, at least to the point where you can begin to think rationally. Sure, maybe Poe will be a little put-off, but it was an accident, and he was the one who moved his head. You’re almost positive that Rey and Rose and Finn wouldn’t leave you behind if Poe mentioned anything.

Beyond that, you’re pretty sure that Poe will never mention what happened to anybody, because he’s just that polite. Hopefully, he’ll be able to laugh it off and accept the apologies you’re preparing and you can go back to normal. Or, at least, something that resembles what your normal used to be.

As the hours pass, you calm more and more, reminding yourself to breathe and not jump to all the worst case scenarios. Still, you make yourself a quick dinner before getting ready for bed at a shockingly early time, exhausted from all your overthinking.

You try not to look at the quickly deteriorating bouquet on your bedside table.

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

80 notes · View notes

sabxism · 2 years

Text

OMGOMOMGOMGOMG AWWWWWWW this made me smile so big and ik i've said it so many times but this fic is so. cozy. and. LOVELY!!!

Flowers

Chapter 9 of You Are In Love

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: modern!Poe Dameron x reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: none

Author’s Note: big fan of farmer’s markets

Everything seems to settle when Rey and Rose return from their week away. You restart your weekly group hang outs, and try to avoid as much one-on-one time with Poe as possible, even though you want the exact opposite. Still, after your pseudo-confession in his car, you’re in no rush to spend time alone with him and embarrass yourself even more.

It’s what’s best, you tell yourself, you’re keeping yourself from getting hurt and Poe from having to reject you. Really, he should be thanking you, instead of staring you down across the table with those puppy-dog eyes of his.

If it weren’t for the way he looks at you when you’re all together, it doesn’t seem like anything is off. He’s still as polite and friendly and loving as ever, cracking jokes with you as if nothing has changed.

And maybe nothing has changed. Maybe you’re just overreacting, being delusional when there’s nothing wrong with anyone else. Maybe Poe’s forgotten the conversation you’ve had, because you’re sure he didn’t think about it as much as you did after.

But he’s silently wishing that you understand the meaning behind all of his longing looks, so he doesn’t need to put himself out in the open, in fear that you really don’t feel the same, and he’s just been reading everything wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time he let his own hopes cloud his thoughts.

As the leaves change and the weather cools, the five of you have been trying to spend as much time outside as possible, knowing the bitter cold that awaits you in winter. Now, though, it’s still sunny and comfortable with a light jacket, so you often end up at little outdoor events, like concerts or autumn farmers markets.

There’s a little fall farmers market that you go to every weekend; there’s always fresh fruit, honey, and a few stands for crafts and other artwork. Last year, you’d tried a few times to get a stand to display some of your work, but you’d always ask too late and there were never any available spots.

This year, though, there’s one weekend where you found an open table, so now you’re scrambling to finish up some smaller paintings and watercolors, and look through your older work to see if there’s anything you’d be able to sell.

It really wasn’t about making sales, your main goal was to draw some attention to your work. You figured if there were people interested, you might find some more inspiration and energy to try and find a local gallery to display some of your work.

So, of course, you made your friends agree to help you set up and run your little table at the market, and to help you pass the hours quicker. While you were hopeful, you weren’t overly optimistic about getting a lot of attention or sales.

But, you knew that with your friends there, you’d have a good time anyway, it was practically impossible not to be happy around them. You tried your hardest not to think about what you were actually there to do, and instead tell yourself it’s just another Saturday morning spent with your friends.

The Friday before, you’re a nervous wreck, tearing apart your studio to try and find enough pieces that you like but would also be able to part with, if it came to that. You’re mid freak out when you get a text from Rose, pausing in your frantic searching to check your phone.

Can’t wait to see you tomorrow, I know it’ll be great!!!

It seems like that message is enough to get you to come to your senses and calm down. You have enough pieces, and they’ve been picked out weeks ago, since you’ve known you’d gotten a table at the market. And, if someone can’t find something they love, you have enough spare time to take some commissions.

Everything is under control.

You feel much more relaxed after that message, and spend the night doing some much needed pampering and self-care. You even pick out your outfit for tomorrow, something that makes you feel both confident and professional, ready to take on whatever life throws at you.

You crawl into bed at a decent time, and somehow manage to fall asleep without the help of melatonin. Though, your alarm still feels like it goes off as soon as you close your eyes.

The morning is early, guaranteeing that you have enough time to get properly ready without feeling rushed at all, but not so much time that you have any opportunities to sit around and feel anxious.

Poe had offered to pick you up, and you’ve just finished getting ready when you get his text that tells you he arrived. So, you put on your shoes, gather your supplies, and head down to his car after taking a few deep breaths to keep yourself relaxed.

The air is chilly when you step outside, but you're hopeful that once the sun peeks through the clouds, it’ll warm up. As soon as he sees you, Finn is sprinting out of the car to help you with all of your supplies.

“You could have texted, I would have gone up to help.” He half-grumbles, taking some of the canvases from your hands.

“I thought I could handle it,” you puff, rearranging your grip more comfortably now that Finn had taken some of the weight.

You load up into Poe’s car, making sure your paintings are extra secure before allowing Poe to drive off. Once you’ve gotten yourself situated and buckled, Finn hands you a to-go cup of coffee, and you can tell by the design that it’s from Maz’s.

“Ooh, who was working today?” You ask after thanking him and taking a large sip of the warm drink.

“I didn’t recognize them,” Poe responds, so you assume it was one of the new hires. And, from your first few sips, they did a pretty good job.

Poe manages to find a pretty decent parking spot, mainly because the market isn’t open yet. He and Finn carry all of your paintings and other supplies while you lead the way to your little table settled underneath some red and orange trees.

You’ve got a decent spot, almost perfectly in the middle of the left hand side of stalls, and the trees will give you some shade, if the sun ever fully comes out.

Rose and Rey arrive as you’re setting up, switching around the way you’re displaying your pieces over and over, never quite satisfied.

“This looks good,” Finn assures you, gently gripping your forearms and pulling you out of arm’s reach of the table. Poe nods in agreement.

“Best one yet.”

“Really?” You say, escaping Finn’s hold and taking a few steps back, turning your head this way and that, trying to decide if you truly like the setup you’ve created.

“I think it looks perfect,” Rose says, pulling you into a side hug in greeting.

“You’ve done a great job,” Rey reaffirms as she gives you her own hug, everyone nodding and muttering in agreement.

“Ok, ok, I’ll leave it like this.” You step back towards your table, where Finn and Poe have set up folding chairs for the five of you. You sit down, clutching your coffee, knee bouncing erratically. You had so much pent up energy and anxiety, you felt like you could sprint a mile.

But your friends did a great job of distracting you from your nerves, keeping your mind calm and mostly off the topic of the day ahead. It worked wonders for you, and you practically felt lighter, much more ready to take on whatever the universe threw at you.

At first, it seemed like the universe had nothing to throw. The market was officially open to the public, but it was still early so there were barely any people. Two or three passed by your little table, pausing for just a second to take in your work, before moving on towards the fruit stands.

And, it stung a little. You had put in so much work, so much stress and anxiety, having people pass you by like that felt like a slap in the face. You were confident enough in your work, but you still enjoyed the validation you got from compliments, and on rare occasions, sales.

So having people walk by with barely a glance was definitely a blow at your self esteem. Luckily, you had your friends there, who helped you keep your mind off of the people walking past.

But, things turned around pretty quickly.

As it warmed up slightly and time went on, the market got busier and busier. Before, people would only glance at your table and your work before moving on, but now you had people actually coming up to the table to get a closer look and to talk with you.

You loved how so many different types of people came to further inspect your art: elderly women with colorful scarves, millennial men in beanies and flannels, parents pulled forward by their young daughter. It made you positively glow inside knowing that all those people saw something they loved in your work.

As noon approached, you sold off a watercolor of the view from your window to a young woman, a canvas painting of your childhood playground to a family with a baby, and a more abstract canvas to one of the cool old ladies. You’d even managed to get a commission, a gift from a father for his daughter’s first apartment.

Seeing all of these people appreciating your art, and finding things they loved and that reminded them of themselves was the creative boost you needed. You were finally out of the creative rut you’d been in since returning from that lake trip, you could practically feel it coursing through your veins.

Of course, your friends were excellent salesmen. Poe and Rey in particular knew how to draw a crowd, and were able to chat up the potential customers if you were busy helping someone else. Having them with you really made all the difference.

They were there to remind you to keep breathing when you started getting overwhelmed, and they were there to grin and jump and celebrate with you when someone purchased one of your pieces. They were there to celebrate in all of your triumphs and defeats, and you truly don’t think you would have made it through the day without them.

The hours seem to fly by, and soon it’s noon and all the visitors to the market are leaving while the vendors pack up their stalls. You don’t have much to take, just your box of extra supplies and your leftover paintings. In a way, you were glad they weren’t all sold, because you weren’t so sure you’d be able to part with all of them just yet.

You all make plans to celebrate the day’s successes that evening, giving you all time to rest and recharge before you head out again. You wave a goodbye to Rey and Rose, and then the boys help you haul your things back to Poe’s car.

The drive back is full of animated conversations and lots of laughter. Mostly, you stick to observing, absolutely drained from the morning you’ve had. Still, it seems impossible to wipe the smile from your face, your cheeks are almost hurting.

You haven’t felt this confident, this carefree in such a long time you’d almost forgotten what it felt like. You felt on top of the world, so high up that absolutely nothing could bring you down, not even that lingering bit of something between you and Poe.

When you return to your apartment, after turning down Finn and Poe’s offer to help you with the rest of your things, you throw yourself onto your bed, delighting in the way you sink into the mattress. You fall asleep without even taking off your clothes.

When you wake up, it’s only a few hours later, leaving you plenty of time to get re-ready to see your friends. You’re grateful that everyone agreed to take a break before you continued on with your day, the nap you took was definitely needed.

Your mind feels clearer than it has in a long time, as if someone had removed a dirty pane of glass from in front of it. You feel recharged and ready to take on whatever life throws at you. You get yourself dressed again, in clothes that you didn’t nap in, before you make your way over to Rey and Rose’s apartment.

The evening is spent in their shared backyard area, huddled around the firepit. The air gets even chillier when it gets dark, so you all have blankets wrapped around your shoulders to fight it off, along with some warm drinks.

It’s the perfect way to spend an evening after a perfect day, warm and happy and surrounded by all your friends. You’re completely on cloud nine, and nothing could ever bring you down, not when you’re this high off the ground. You feel unstoppable, in a way that you never have before.

You’re fully present with your friends, there’s not a single corner of your mind that’s off focusing on something worrisome or unnecessary, you’re completely in the moment, warmed just as much by your friend’s joy as you are by the fire.

Still, the excitement of the day starts to catch up with you again, so you all decide to call it an early evening. As always, Poe drives you home. You hate the way you crave these moments with him, just the two of you in a silent car, all alone in the dark night. Something about it feels like home, like you’re safely wrapped up in the silence and the glow from the console.

You say your goodbyes, sans love confessions, and make your way up to your apartment, feeling like you’re floating on air. You’ve just finished showering and throwing on the coziest pair of pajamas you own when there’s a knock at the front door.

It’s late, so you’re immediately on edge. The feeling only amplifies when a glance through the peephole tells you that there’s no one on the other side. Still, you edge the door open, seeing something resting on your doormat through the crack.

You slowly open the door wider, revealing the gift in its entirety: a vase full of colorful flowers. You gently pick up the gift, and notice the note attached. Re-entering your apartment, you set the vase on the table and open the note, your heart beat ticking up at the familiar handwriting.

Congrats on a very successful day

I saw these and thought of you

I hope you know how proud I am

-Poe

You find yourself blinking back tears, your heart a bird desperate to escape the cage of your ribs. You bring the vase into your room with you, setting it on your nightstand where you’ll be able to see it when you fall asleep and right when you wake up.

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

60 notes · View notes

sabxism · 2 years

Text

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

0 notes

sabxism · 2 years

Text

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.”

201 notes · View notes

sabxism · 2 years

Text

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

65 notes · View notes

sabxism · 2 years

Text

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

64 notes · View notes

sabxism · 2 years

Text

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

94 notes · View notes

sabxism · 2 years

Text

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

135 notes · View notes

sabxism · 2 years

Text

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.

263 notes · View notes