#i should replay his route and giggle the entire time i think

[autism-corner]

guy who is so cute any crime he does is forgiven <3

[bookishofalder]

Night Changes [Five]

Series Masterlist

Summary: Poe and the reader eagerly focus on their friendship. Unfortunately for them, life isn’t that easy.

Warnings: Language, mentions of smut, violence, injuries. WC: 11.1K

A/N: Please enjoy this failed attempt at fluff. Also, thank you to @hoeforthefictional for inspiring a scene in this chapter (see: Charlie’s shirts)

Your hand smacked against the cool steel of the dining table as you snorted, “That is not true!” You exclaimed, watching Poe run his hand over his mouth to try and hide his smile, though you could still see him shaking with laughter. “Poe that was Charlie, it was NOT me!”

“Sure Sweetheart,” He drawled through his chuckles, quirking a brow at you, “Charlie convinced your dad that we could all be trusted on our own for the weekend. ‘Cause, he was the one with the big sad eyes your dad fell for every time.”

You groaned, knowing Poe was right, your giggles confirming it to him even though you didn’t outright admit it. “Well you were the one who suggested we try to nab some booze at Eddard’s,” You pointed at him accusingly as memories of you, Charlie and Poe as preteens trying to break into a closed cantina to steal spotchka replayed in your mind. “I was the only one the old man didn’t hit.”

“My ass smarted for a week after that,” Poe frowned at the memory and you giggled again. He grinned over at you, and you felt a flush of delight at the early morning banter, each of you sipping your caf as the golden sun streamed in through the high windows and the room steadily grew busier around you.

It had been a few weeks since your return from the classified mission, the data collected on the outpost proving to be immeasurably useful, earning you both a very pleased smile from the General. A larger secondary team was already there; though they were outfitted with greater protective equipment and a lot more manpower to clear back some of the overgrown jungle from the base and work to bring it back up and running.

While it was a severe break in protocol, neither you nor Poe included the exposure to the red flower pollen in your mission reports. You described the sighting of the plant, cautioned approached and advised the settlement team to wear protective gear, but that was all. Though a mild amount of guilt settled in your stomach for the breach, the idea of writing down what had happened, of being hauled for questioning and medically assessed, was more than enough to make you feel it was the right decision.

It had taken three days to return to base from the mission. Even after your long conversation with Poe assuring him you were alright and that you didn’t blame him for what happened, he still walked around you like he was afraid any moment you would crack and reveal your anger or mistrust. He’d pointedly refused to touch you or come too close after the initial embrace you shared, and although you disagreed with his reasoning, you couldn’t help the relief that you felt because something about being close to him, touching him, stirred feelings inside you that you didn’t want to address.

It made it easier to focus on repairing your friendship if you maintained a slight distance from the man you’d known your entire life. Better to set aside any feelings or thoughts and work to find your way back to the version of yourself you missed. The one who had been happy. You wanted to be her again because the lonely woman you’d become was less than ideal. And you had missed Poe more than you’d admit.

You just wished you could stop the dreams.

“You know,” You spoke slowly, your eyes losing focus as you thought back to those younger years, “I’m pretty sure that was the weekend I became obsessed with learning about Mandalore. I saw that picture of the really famous one up in the cantina and wanted to know everything about it all.” You shook your head at your youthful silliness, the crush you’d developed for the faceless bounty hunter simply from hearing the tales of his heroics. You’d even had a-

“Remember the picture you had?” Poe cut into your thoughts and you refocused on him, “You had that up for years, on the back of your door, a street artist's painting of the rogue Mandolorian, Charlie teased you all the time for having it.” He was smiling at the memory, his eyes crinkling slightly.

You stared at Poe in surprise as warmth swept through you. “You remember that?” He shrugged, his eyes flicking away to glance at the table as if he was suddenly self-conscious, surprised at himself.

“Yeah, I...” You watched as he appeared to steal himself, his cheeks dusted with colour. “I remember everything. It was always us three, wasn’t it? I’d never forget Charlie or y-you.”

When he looked up again his eyes were burning with bright intensity. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away, even as your heartbeat tripled and emotion swelled inside you. Everything else-the noise of the caf, the sounds of others laughter and conversations-it all faded into the background as Poe and you regarded one another across the table.

A hand coming down onto your shoulder jolted you from your thoughts. You glanced up to find Temmin grinning at you both as he moved to take a seat next to you. “Morning, morning,” He glanced over mischievously at Poe, then back to you, “Sorry to interrupt your eye-fuck session, just wondering if you saw our surveillance got moved up?”

Poe was quicker to recover, pulling Temmin’s attention from you as heat flooded your face and you gaped wordlessly. “Uh, to now, I’m assuming?” Poe spared you a glance, his eyes unreadable as you swallowed, embarrassed at your reaction.

You’d anticipated those close to you or Poe to tease you both about the renewed friendship, entirely unsurprised that Temmin was the leading comedian about the entire thing. He’d happily jumped on any excuse to tease, but even though you were never one to flinch away from adult banter, the occasional sexually suggestive comments brought you straight back to the memories from your mission and rendered you speechless each time.

Pursing your lips, you took the last sip of your caf and stood up, your hands automatically sweeping down the front of your flight suit to straighten any wrinkles. You tried to give a half-hearted smile, hoping Temmin didn’t start to think you had a shitty sense of humour.

“I’m going to get started on pre-flight, in that case.”

You glanced at Poe and found he was already watching you, his lips quirking up in a way that made your insides bubble confusingly. Before you could turn away, however, Temmin was gently grabbing your forearm.

“Don’t uh, go that way, use the longer route. For your sanity.” He suggested, grimacing as you groaned in frustration.

“Kriff. Thanks, Snap.” You spun and stalked in the opposite direction, your eyes still scanning to ensure that you didn’t accidentally run into Rush despite Temmin’s warning.

The Healer had not taken kindly to your outright disinterest, apparently taking Poe’s interference at the cantina before your mission as a challenge. You felt you had enough on your plate now to justify not telling him point-blank to fuck off. You’d instead found yourself actively avoiding him, going so far as to duck into storage closets to hide, or in the case of two days ago, hide behind the broader frame of your Captain when you’d spotted the Rush walk into the hangar and look around for you.

Temmin had started to goad you after Rush had departed, stopping when he saw the look on your face and you’d resigned yourself to explain the situation. When you’d finished, he’d offered to talk to the Healer for you, suggested the Poe could and would step in as well, but you had been very clear that you didn’t want either of them to deal with your issues and told Temmin in no uncertain terms to keep the situation from Poe. He had been going out of his way in previous weeks to be kind to you. His continued (and entirely unnecessary) attempts to make up for everything that had happened, both on the mission and before. Having him do another favour for you when you had yet to figure out how to give back to Poe, didn’t sit right with you.

So you snuck out of the back of the dining hall and hoped you’d bought yourself more time to figure your shit out.

Earlier that morning

His curls were softer than you’d remembered, you loved sinking your hands into them and gripping. Your head felt so heavy that you felt yourself drop it into his neck, your heart swelling at how right it felt to nuzzle into Poe as he held you.

Fuck, it felt so good to straddle him this way, not just for how close your bodies were, how easily you could kiss him, but because his thick, long cock hit the best spots inside you at this angle. It was bliss, delicious, something you should have been doing for years. You rolled your hips as you came, crying out when he slammed you onto him and held you there as he came undone as well, feeling close to passing out when he cried out for you.

“Sweetheart, oh fuck, (y/n)!”

“FUCK!”

You gasped as you woke from your dream, trying to sit up even as your body continued to convulse from your orgasm and small moans tore from you. You gripped the sheets, panting as you floated down from your high, again. Another dream, the same memory replayed over and over every night until you eventually woke up like this, shaking and sweating and cumming.

You sobbed, sitting forward and drawing your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around yourself as you dropped your head. This needed to stop and you didn’t understand why it wouldn’t. It had started up the first night you were back on D’Qar, always the same; the memory of those finals moments wrapped around Poe, the last orgasms you each had as the pollen had worn off, and then you’d wake up as you came. You’d tried masturbating before bed just to try and curb the need, but that hadn’t helped in the least. You were desperate now, confused and exhausted from waking up day after day filled with an intense need for something you shouldn’t want.

A good part of you thought your sleeping brain was just cruel, taunting you for what had occurred. But the logical side of your brain noted that it could very well be an aftereffect of the exposure to the pollen, perhaps the last dregs of it working its way from your system when you were most vulnerable. But since you hadn’t reported the exposure, there was no way to find out. It wasn’t like you were going to ask Poe if he was experiencing anything similar-either response he could give was equally as mortifying just to imagine.

Kicking your sheets away, you glanced at your clock and noted the early hour before stalking angrily into your fresher to take a shower. A cold one, because despite the daily orgasms you were waking up from, you were constantly on edge, hornier than you’d been in a long time.

It didn’t help that you were a touch-starved, lonely and unattached woman. Aside from what had happened with Poe on the mission, you hadn’t had sex in a long time and even the last few times you did, it wasn’t anything spectacular. Which was why you’d been almost ready to let Rush take you to bed before, just to feel something pleasurable.

And now...now you wanted to run away from all pleasure.

+

Poe watched as you hurried out of the room, your shoulders stiff and he frowned when you glanced hastily toward the other doorway before slipping out of view. He looked at Temmin, who was giving him a knowing, guilty kind of smile from across the table. “What the hell was that about?”

Temmin considered his words for a long moment, rapping his knuckles on the table. Finally, he said, “Major hasn’t told you?” As if hoping Poe might suddenly realize what was going on with you and let him off the hook. At the same time, his friend appeared unsurprised of the direction the conversation had gone since your odd departure.

Raising a brow at his friend, Poe leaned forward. “No,” He replied slowly, shaking his head, “Told me what?”

“Let me preface this by telling you she asked me not to make you aware of the situation. Healer Derrin has been cornering her around base every day since you’ve been back, trying to convince her to give him another chance,” Temmin paused as Poe shifted from curious to downright outraged, “Don’t look at me like that, I just found out myself like two days ago.”

“But-I-” Poe stammered, half rising from his seat, “What the fuck has he been doing?”

Temmin waved a hand in a calming manner, “Popping up all over, trying to catch her for a conversation. Only reason I found out was that he came into the hangar the other day and she practically climbed on my back hiding behind me from him.”

Beside himself with fury, Poe took several deep breaths to relax. “Fuck,” He growled, running his hands over his face.

A distant part of his mind wondered why he was so physically worked up, ready to seek out the Healer and lay into him. When he glanced up, Temmin was casting an obvious glance to the time and Poe relented, releasing his anger to focus on the task at hand. “Sorry, thank you for telling me. Let’s go.”

With a curt nod, Temmin jumped to his feet and fell into step with Poe as they made their way to the hangar. It didn’t go unnoticed by Poe that his friend cast a wary eye around, no doubt concerned they would run into Rush and he would be required to break up a fight.

Quietly sighing to himself, Poe rationalized that he could focus on patrol, then return to base and seek out Rush for a civil conversation, nothing more. Flying would calm him, help him to clear his head, and despite your request to keep Poe out of it, he wasn’t about to let you down by allowing some dick head to harass you.

-

Patrolling the Resistance base was a duty that fell upon every squadron, regardless of status. Poe knew he could probably convince Leia to let Black team off the hook, considering the number of high-status, incredibly dangerous missions she entrusted them with, however he felt it was good for his team to pull their weight when it came to the less exciting tasks.

It was also a good opportunity for some team building, as you all kept your comms open to have idle chit-chat throughout the shift. “Listen, Poe, Tommy was a lot taller than you. You know it, I know it, hell Temmin knows it! He knew Tommy!” You were giggling now, which was the only reason why Poe had continued to argue that Tommy wasn’t all that much taller than him.

“She’s right, Commander.” Temmin supplied with a chuckle.

Kare’s voice joined in, “I’ve never met this Tommy but he sure sounds a lot taller. Did you date him, Major?”

At the question, Poe felt himself stiffen slightly, suddenly extremely curious to hear your response. You didn’t hesitate, “Oh, maker, no. Never.”

“Wow,” Poe chirped with a laugh, “I’m kind offended for Tommy with how passionately you just said that!”

You laughed, “Tommy wasn’t my type, Kare. We were just friends.”

“But he did ask you out,” Temmin suddenly supplied, unknowingly causing Poe to frown. Tommy had asked you out...when? It can’t have been during Gold team days, because then he’d know about it, if not from you then certainly from Charlie, who was close with Tommy. Which meant that you had seen Tommy at some point after you left and spent enough time with him for the handsome pilot to ask you out. Jealously silenced Poe and he opted to listen only.

“Oh,” You sounded surprised that Temmin knew about it, “Yes, well we were stationed together for a while at an outpost a few years ago.” Though your voice had tightened somewhat, Temmin had apparently not picked up on it and continued speaking, teasing you.

“Huh well, Major, from what I heard via our mutual friend Rico, you two had a 'friends with benefits' thing going on during that assignment.”

You laughed in embarrassment, “Fuck off, Temmin.”

Realizing that his silence was both telling and uncalled for, Poe decided to join back in. “What, sweetheart, embarrassed to admit you liked his man-bun?” He joked, happily drawing further laughs from you and the rest of Black team. Inwardly, however, Poe was spinning and he tuned out of the remainder of the conversation as he fell into deep thought.

It was incredibly wonderful having you back. Despite everything that happened during the mission, the resulting change between Poe and you had exponentially increased his overall happiness. It felt, in some ways, like old times. The void that was Charlie was there, ever-present but not always overwhelming, sometimes it was just a hum of grief in the background as you walked next to Poe, your shoulder occasionally brushing his arm, or when you laughed fully and your eyes crinkled the same way Charlie’s had.

And stars, you were funny-Poe had always thought you had a great sense of humour, but the past few years had given you a slightly harsher perspective, something that most Resistance fighters developed in time. It meant your wit was a little drier, your sarcasm in great abundance. He’d laughed more these past few weeks than he had in years, something that didn’t escape Temmin’s notice, his friend often shooting him a knowing wink when you weren’t looking.

Professionally, not a whole lot had changed, though conversation and directives were less chopped, he was proud to know that despite the tension and anger that had been between you before the mission, you had both worked immensely well together.

He had been terrified that you would leave again, despite your assurances on the contrary. He wouldn’t even have blamed you if you had; he remembered everything that happened, the way he’d touched you, the dark bruises and marks he’d littered across your soft skin, and the things he said. The harsh, cruel words still twisted in the back of his mind, surging to the forefront at random to taunt him, force him to relive the way he’d demeaned you. But you hadn’t left, in fact, Poe was pretty certain that the first few days back you had barely left his side just to prove to him that you wouldn’t, and he was grateful for that more than he could tell you.

He was grateful to have you back, to banter and tease, to see your smile brighten the room every day, usually because of something he had said. His old feelings were stirring, never really having faded altogether, but he was eager to push them down again and focus on the friendship. He needed to reign in his jealousy over something that had happened years ago between you and Tommy.

There was no reason good enough to admit how he had felt before Charlie died, and certainly, nothing in the galaxy could convince him to confess to you how he was starting to feel now.

It was better, he thought, to just be friends. Safer.

Earlier that morning

Your skin was soft, delightfully silky and smooth under his rough fingers, and he enjoyed gripping you harder, pulling your hips to his as he filled you, over and over. Your warm body pressed against his as you straddled his lap, your moans weak and head lolling from the pleasure.

The feel of your head falling to his neck, your body curling into him as your orgasm hit.

“Oh Poe, don’t stop!” The way you said his name. How you clenched around him, pulling him to his own peak. The feeling that was coming inside of you, bliss and rightness of the action intensely overwhelming as you shivered in his arms.

With a start, Poe woke up, his dream-induced orgasm ripping from him. He was unable to do more than groan in pleasure, his hips rutting against the mattress as his cum spurted, hands gripping his pillow. Biting his lip, the shame washed over him before he’d fully finished cumming, his groan morphing into a pitiful sound of desperation.

Every fucking day he woke up much the same, his dream-memories of those final moments under the grip of the pollen replaying over and over until he woke up mid-orgasm. He hadn’t had wet dreams since he hit puberty, for Maker’s sake. He thought it must be an aftereffect of the pollen, further proof the intensity and potency of the red flower was beyond anything he’d ever heard of.

Grunting in frustration, Poe climbed out of bed and retrieved a towel to clean up his mess. Turning on the shower, he glanced at the time, happy that he had enough time to rinse off before meeting you for what was becoming a routine morning caf.

He kept the water cold, punishing himself for his dreams and wishing like hell he could erase the images of you, so beautiful and soft around him, from his mind.

+

It was ideal that the man essentially stalking you was a Healer because it meant that he was relatively easy to track down on base. Healers had long shifts in the med-bay and usually didn’t stray far from base in case something major happened that required additional medical support. Poe was walking to the med bay now, leaving you with Temmin and your funny friend Ana back in the dining hall, to confront Rush.

He’d come up with a simple excuse to step away, stating he required a few essentials from the commissary and wanting to get there before they closed. You were eating slowly tonight and he had taken advantage of that and Ana’s rare presence-something that would keep you in the dining hall much longer, conversation flowing, so that he could slip off to the med-bay.

He’d felt your eyes watching him as he excused himself, burning into the back of his neck as he tried to walk as casually as possible out of the room. As soon as he was clear, he sped up in case you decided to follow him, but a glance over his shoulder before he turned the corner a few minutes later proved he was right that you would linger with Ana instead.

As he walked along the halls, nodding and smiling at anyone he passed, Poe attempted to steady and control his emotions. He would ask Rush to leave you be; be nice but incredibly firm. Advise the healer that it was in his own best interest to keep things professional unless you did indicate you were interested. As he argued with himself on the best way to word the request, Charlie’s image floated around in his head, reminding him that if he was still alive and some dick head was bothering you, he would be the one to calmly protect you. Poe was the less than calm protector, but he needed to channel your brother here because he hoped to prevent you from finding out he’d cornered Rush.

As he approached the final stretch of the hallway that led into the med-bay, a nurse just coming off duty came walking along in the opposite direction. Poe recognized the older woman, brightening when she glanced up and saw him. “Evening, Rosie, how are you?” He flashed her his best grin.

With an affectionate roll of her eyes, Rosie calm to a halt in front of Poe, “Good evening Commander, what brings you to our neck of the woods? You don’t look injured unless your big head is giving you a headache.”

This was why Poe liked her, she was the type to catch on to bullshit and funny as hell. He couldn’t help his bark of a laugh, “No, I’ve gotten pretty good at lugging it around,” He replied, “Listen, can I ask you a quick question before you head off for a night of dancing with a lucky guy?”

“Lucky lady,” She corrected with a wink, and Poe smiled apologetically with a nod, “And go ahead, what’s up?”

“Right, my mistake, although now that I think of it I don’t think any of us men could survive your charms,” He joked, pulling a laugh from the deadpan nurse, “I’m looking for Healer Derrin, do you happen to know where I could find him?”

Something close to a knowing look flashed in her eyes then, but Rosie didn’t comment. “His shift just ended, actually. He left for the hangar roughly, oh, ten minutes ago.” She glanced at her wrist comm for the time, nodding to herself at her estimation.

Poe frowned, realizing that it was routine for you to have left dinner already to go to the hangar to input your mission report for the day and perform your check of his and your own ships. Because you were dining with Ana, however, you hadn’t left yet. “Thank you, Rosie.” He gently clasped her shoulder as she smiled at him with that look still in her eyes, but she merely bid him farewell before he spun around a hurried away, taking the quickest route to the hangar.

When he arrived, the hangar was fairly quiet, only a few lingering mechanics wandering about, several service droids cleaning the large space and performing nighttime checks. Still wearing his medical clothing, Rush was easy to spot as he stood near your ship across the room, eyes staring off at nothing as he waited to see if you’d turn up.

When he heard Poe’s footsteps approaching, he turned with a hopeful look before spotting him and shifting to a placating smile. “Evening, Commander!”

Poe stopped a few feet short Rush and tried his best to return the smile, “Healer,” His voice was clipped, and he took a careful breath in an attempt to keep calm and channel Charlie. Friendly, to the point, no need to get worked up. “What brings you here so late?”

Rush shrugged, “Hoping to catch the little bird that keeps flying off,” He admitted, gesturing at your ship, “Can’t seem to get any face-to-face time with her, but I’m hoping to clear things up and start fresh. Think I moved too quickly before.”

Poe plastered his face with a neutral expression as his insides burned upon hearing Rush refer to you as ‘little bird’. “Listen, man, I’ve known (y/n) my whole life and I don’t think she’s interested, I mean, it’s been weeks since your date and she’s been avoiding you since.” Poe kept his voice as steady as possible, not wanting his tone to convey anything other than mild interest.

Rush bristled immediately, however, “That your objective opinion, Dameron?”

His voice was pointedly not steady and his tone was anything but mild. Still, Poe held up his hands in a placating gesture, “It is, and it’s kind of...uh, obvious, I guess.”

Poe watched as Rush took a measured step closer to him, though this didn’t serve to intimidate as the Healer stood an easy couple of inches shorter than him. “You’re full of shit. You’re telling me this because you want to fuck her,” He glared up at Poe, who was frowning as he fought his internal battle to remain calm. “Actually, noticed you two are buddy-buddy all of a sudden; so that’s it, isn’t it? You went off together for nearly two weeks and she spread her pretty legs for you-“

Well, no one could say Poe didn’t try. His fist was connecting with Rush’s smug face before the Healer could continue his vulgar accusation, falling back a few steps before regaining his balance and shooting a glare that did nothing to intimidate Poe.

Forcing himself not to move in for another punch, Poe pointed his finger at Rush, “Shut the fuck up, asshole. I never want to hear you talk about her that way again, got it?”

Rush scoffed, his hand rubbing along his reddening jaw, “You’re only proving me right, reacting like that. Either you want her so you’re trying to prevent me from having a chance, or you already had her,” The Healer was seething mad, clearly not thinking straight. He didn’t seem to see the tension rolling over Poe’s body, anger coiling within and ready to burst forth in more than just a single punch. Or maybe a handsome guy like Rush Derrin couldn’t stand the idea of having a competitor, as he seemed to view Poe, and it clouded his usual ‘nice guy’ personality entirely, made him mean, made him say things that he really, really shouldn’t. “Tell me, what is she like when you’re balls deep-does she moan as loud as I-“

This time, Poe didn’t hold his anger back into a single punch, he opted instead to launch himself at Rush, whose eyes flashed in fear just before he was taken to the ground. Fistfights weren’t something that Poe usually got himself into anymore, though he’d had more than his share growing up. He held himself to higher standards now, especially considering his high rank within the Resistance, the respect he had from his fellow fighters.

All of that was out the window though as he wrestled on the hangar floor with Rush, who gave a yell of anger as he tried to out fist Poe. He was strong, a decent enough match physically despite being shorter than Poe, who twisted his hips to roll Rush in a flurry of movement, eager not to end up bested by being pinned under the man. He did feel the punches he gained in return, particularly a stinging blow to his cheek that seemed to hit directly on the apple, skin splitting on contact. Rush was wasting energy on cursing and yelling insults, most of which didn’t register with Poe as blood rushed loudly in his ears, rage only intensifying.

It was only a few moments of fighting at this point, not long enough for anyone who had been on the other side of the hangar to have made it over already to break them up. This was why Poe stiffened in complete surprise when he saw a figure approaching quickly in his peripheral vision, which distracted him just enough for Rush to take advantage and roll heavily, slamming Poe into the floor. He felt his head hit the concrete, though it wasn’t too hard of a blow it was disorienting. Before he could even begin to attempt to get Rush off of him, however, the figure that had first distracted him now came directly into view over Poe.

It was you.

But you weren’t yelling for them to stop like he would have imagined you would do. Instead, from his vantage on the ground, Poe witnessed your fury first hand, so much more intense than he’d seen in years. But the night of Charlie’s funeral that fury had been lined with grief and heartbreak. Now, you looked shockingly terrifying as you swiftly launched yourself at Rush, tackling him off of Poe in one motion before rolling with ease and jumping back to your feet.

When you pointed your blaster down at the Healer, who lay flat on his back in complete shock, even Poe flinched at the look on your face.

“Don’t you fucking touch him,” You hissed, your voice cold and low. There were a few people nearby, all who’d frozen upon seeing the Major asserting her authority over the lower level Healer. Though he partially flushed with pride and equal parts surprise, Poe was quick to scramble to his feet and hurry to your side. “I forbid you to enter this hangar again unless it’s for medical purposes, got it?”

Poe could see that your finger wasn’t on the trigger of your blaster, the safety clicked on still. All the same, your reaction was completely out of character and he wanted to stop that cold, harsh look on your face in its tracks, even if it wasn’t directed at him.

“Sweetheart,” He murmured, quiet enough that only Rush could discern his words, “Let’s take a walk, let Healer Derrin go and lick his wounds.”

The moment you dropped the blaster, Rush was on his feet and hurrying out of the hangar, blissfully silent, entirely amusing. Poe glanced around to the others nearby and gave a friendly nod of release, and they broke away to finish their work. Placing a hand carefully on your lower back, he put a slight pressure and started to walk, relieved when you complied and holstered your blaster.

Though he’d suggested the walk, you seemed to take control of the direction and somehow Poe found himself stepping through the door of your room minutes later. He barely had a moment to glance around at the minimally decorated space, his eyes again finding your pinned copy of his favourite photo on the corkboard, before you rounded on him.

You weren’t as furious as you had been before, but he still took a measured step away from under the heat of your gaze, flinching as he waited for you to begin yelling at him for interfering in your life, for embarrassing you, bracing himself for your wrath.

Instead, your angry gaze met his own and you faltered, your eyes flicking over his face and Poe watched the anger melt away, your expression softening into concern. “Oh, Poe,” You sighed, closing the distance between you both to reach up and carefully grab his jaw with one hand, turning his head to peer up at the cheek he’d taken the worst punch to, “Are you alright?”

You dropped your hand, not completely as he would have expected but to rest on his chest, just over his heart. Poe felt himself stiffen again, the casual way you touched him driving him almost into a frenzy of confusion and hope and fear.

“I’m fine, I can take a punch,” He grinned, cringing when his cheek stung from the movement. “Might need to pop a bacta-patch over this, though.” He reached up and carefully prodded the split skin, hissing at the pain.

You stepped away, tugging Poe by the arm, “Sit,” You ordered, pushing him toward your bed. He perched himself on the edge and watched as you went to the med-kit you kept in your fresher to pull out bacta-patches. “I knew you weren’t going to the commissary.” You added when you walked back toward Poe, grabbing your desk chair and setting it in front of him before taking a seat.

“In my defence, I was being nice at first,” Poe said as you wiped away the blood on his face before gently placing the patch, your eyes focused on your work. “He uh, turned out to be a bit more hot-headed than I’d have thought.”

You snorted, “I came in too late to know who hit who first, but you don’t need to defend yourself,” Picking up another wipe, you cleaned around the patch and some spots along the rest of his face that must have had blood splatter. “I made Temmin tell me if he told you about Rush. I know you were fighting with him because of me. And that’s...that’s why I hadn't mentioned it, actually.”

Poe stared at you for a beat, “What do you mean?”

“I just,” You sighed, your eyes searching his face before you tossed the wipe in the trash and you sat back in your seat. He already missed the feel of your hands on his skin. “I knew you would want to talk to him, and that could lead to a fistfight or whatever on my behalf, and I didn’t want you to put yourself in that position just for me.”

“Just for you?” Poe repeated in surprise, leaning forward, his arms resting on his knees, to look at you closely, “Sweetheart, come on, you know I’d do anything for you.”

You nodded, but Poe wondered if you understood how serious he was, how he wouldn’t hesitate, wouldn’t question. Or maybe you did understand and that was why you looked slightly afraid, your face flushed as Poe gazed at you intently.

“Poe, you’ve been going out of your way for me since we’ve been back. You know it’s all...we’re good, I trust you,” You leaned forward, your face mere inches from Poe’s, and took his hands into yours, “So you don’t need to keep proving yourself, I promise.”

Poe felt himself nodding as he looked at you, gazed into your bright eyes and saw the sincerity in them, the emotion. He was still, afraid to move now that there was nothing between either of you, fully aware that you were alone together in a locked room and nothing could interrupt you. He felt himself blush, heat crawling up his neck, and Poe wanted to lean away and clear his throat and push back everything he was feeling but you were making it too difficult, sitting there with wide eyes and plump lips and a look so earnest, so trusting that he was transported straight back to the first time he’d wanted to kiss you.

But the thing was, he was a skinny teenager back then, and it had been easy to talk himself back and resist the urge because of Charlie. Because he didn’t want to offend you. Because your mom was just down the hall and could walk in at any moment.

But here, Poe wasn’t a teenager anymore, and for that matter neither were you. No, you were both fully grown adults, a fact he was keenly aware of as his eyes moved from yours, slowly, and he saw the way your lips were parted, the flush up your neck, the way your chest was heaving slightly.

He’d never wanted to be braver in his entire life.

Just as he thought of closing the gap, though, an image surfaced. The memory of you, trembling on the table after the pollen had worn off, just before he could give you the bacta shot, your body littered with marks he’d put there, the marks that were in the nightmares he kept having. Bile rose in his throat and he was sure you sensed the shift then because you were pulling away even before Poe broke the connection of your gazes and eased his hands from your grasp.

It was quiet for a minute, each of you looking determinedly away from the other. You stood, and Poe glanced up, fearing you were going to ask him to leave. You had a thoughtful look on your face, however, and moved over to your dresser instead. He watched as you opened the lowest drawer, flipping through the contents.

“I realized the other day that you didn’t have any of Charlie’s clothing because of course, I’d taken it all,” You straightened, turning around with a small stack of shirts clutched in your hands, “But I shouldn’t have done that, so here, take these.” And you held the stack out to him, biting your lip as you did.

Poe’s heart stuttered in his chest and he had to blink a few times to clear the sting of tears threatening the corners of his eyes. “These were...Charlies’?” You nodded, your eyes swimming with similar emotion. He took them from you and looked down at the familiar, worn fabric in a variety of colours, each shirt soft and well cared for. “Sweetheart, I don’t know what to say.”

He stood up, gripping the clothes in one hand before carefully reaching out and wrapping his arm around your head, pulling you close and kissing your hair. You were stiff in his arms, but he felt you patting his mid-back. “You don’t have to say anything, flyboy.”

—

It was very rare that you found yourself in your current position, crouched outside of Poe Dameron’s window late at night, grateful that his father slept on the lower floor of their home because he found it cooler. And even though you knew Mr. Dameron wouldn’t be mad if he found you sneaking into his son’s room, because you and Poe were together most of the time anyway since forever, you didn’t want him to interrupt your attempt to apologize to your friend.

You carefully slid the window open, your eyes attempting to adjust to the darkened room within but there was no light this evening, even the stars were hidden by clouds that threatened rain you knew wouldn’t come for another day at least. You were gazing in the direction of where you knew his bed was, so when hands shot out to grab you from almost right in front of you, you couldn’t help the squeak you let out, still desperate to be quiet, before promptly falling backwards. You wondered if you were about to break your arm again, and it had only just healed the month before. Kriff.

Thankfully Poe had already grabbed your waist, his hands gripping tighter when you lost your balance before he pulled you through his window with a grunt, both of you tumbling down due to the force he’d used to ensure you didn’t fall. Landing clumsily on top of him with a thud, you both froze in the dark, listening for any sounds from downstairs.

You waited a few minutes, heart pounding in your ears, wishing you could at least see Poe’s face but it was too dark, you could only make out the faint outline of him. You could tell he was looking up at you, but that was about it. Feeling confident Mr. Dameron was still fast asleep, you shuffled off of Poe, only his hands were still gripping your waist, so you ended up kneeling right next to him.

“Poe?” You whispered, moving a hand down to pat the back of one of his, “I think we’re good-sorry, I wanted to-“

Poe’s angry sigh halted your words in their tracks, and you felt his fingers flex before he released you and moved away. After a pause, light from a small lamp bathed the room in a low, golden glow and your best friend came into view, standing a few feet away with his arms crossed over his chest.

“I heard your apology the first time, (y/n),” He hissed, and you hated the way he said your name, that he even said it at all when you were used to him only referring to you as ‘sweetheart’. “Breaking in to say it again doesn’t really-“

You had climbed to your feet, dusting off your knees before glaring up at Poe, “Fine, I won’t apologize again. But I’m not leaving until you talk to me, tell me how I can fix this.”

Poe ran a hand wearily over his face, not meeting your eyes. Guilt and shame and sadness were all that you felt these past several days as Poe actively avoided you, refused to even look at you, because of what you’d said. And you hadn’t meant it, you really didn’t, it just slipped out in a moment of heated disagreement and you wished you could eat the words back up before you’d fully finished speaking. The look he’d given you...

“I don’t know, I just need some time,” He grumbled, still not looking at you. You took a half step closer, hoping to draw his gaze. Disappointed when he only frowned harder and kept his eyes on the wall. “I know you’re sorry, but you still fucking said it.”

“And I have no excuse for it, Poe, I was out of line. I was angry and I wanted to just...”

“You wanted to hurt me.” He finished, and you were shaking your head violently because that wasn’t it, it really wasn’t.

“No, no that’s not why,” You breathed, tears threatening but you swallowed them back, blinking, “You’ve just been so weird lately, and you wouldn’t tell me why so I lost myself and wanted a...a reaction, something, from you.”

Poe’s eyes locked on yours then and you felt yourself shrink inward at the coldness within them, “You said my mother would be ashamed of me. Out loud, to my face. Because I wasn’t explaining why I’ve been moody-which by the way, if you thought about it you’d fucking realize why-so that was your solution?”

His voice had raised only a fraction, a whisper yell in the dim room, yet he might as well have been screaming at you. You deserved for him to rage and yell because you had said that. In a stupid, selfish moment, after weeks of odd behaviour from Poe and another fruitless attempt to ask him what was going on, you’d said his mother would be ashamed of him for shutting you out. You hated yourself for saying it.

You grappled with yourself, struggling to find words and Poe jumped on your silence to continue speaking. “I forget sometimes that you’re just a kid, a silly, spoiled little girl who gets her way all the time,” His words cut through the air like little knives, driving straight into your chest, “But in the real world, when you say mean shit like that you can’t always just bat your pretty lashes and say you’re sorry. Words have consequences, you fucking brat.”

You bristled, despite having known when you decided to come here tonight and beg for forgiveness that he might lash out, you weren’t prepared for Poe to talk down to you like this. Little girl. Spoiled. Brat. Was that really how he saw you?

Was he really going to leave to join the Resistance and you’d never see him again?

“Fuck you,” You gasped, pain lancing your heart as you glared up at your best friend, “You don’t talk to me like that, Poe Dameron. I said a shitty, horrible thing to you and I didn’t mean it and I’ve been trying to apologize, that doesn’t give you the right to speak to me like this. You’re calling me the kid when you-you’re acting like an angry little boy?”

Poe dropped his crossed arms, his mouth opening in fury as he stepped toward you, and you were ready for the fight, for the words to start flowing between you both as whatever the fuck was going on lately seemed to bubble up and over. But the dim lighting of the room left a lot of shadows and darkness, and his sudden movement toward you startled you. You couldn’t help it, you flinched, visibly and almost bone jarringly. You flinched away from Poe, one hand half raising in front of yourself defensively.

And the fight in Poe, that fire and passion, it was out in an instant. Like you had flipped a switch and all the power was sucked from the room. For a moment, he stood frozen in mid-motion, gaping at you as you straightened from your defensive stance, and you shook your head to organize your thoughts, wanting to just apologize again and leave. But he was looking at you so intensely now that you felt like you couldn’t move; like he’d pinned you with his horrified expression.

“Are you-?” His voice almost broke, and he didn’t try to clear it, merely lowered the pitch, “Are you scared of me?”

You wanted to shake your head, but your brain was still processing the shocked look he was giving you, the colour rising to his cheeks as emotion seemed to overwhelm him. Poe looked utterly wrecked at that moment, and even though you knew he needed to hear you speak, to assure him that of course, you weren’t scared of him, the sudden movement and looming shadow on the wall had simply caught you off guard, you couldn’t bring yourself to fucking speak.

“Sweetheart, fuck, I’m so sorry, please don’t be afraid,” He gasped out, holding up both hands slowly, palms facing you, “I would never-shit, sweet, beautiful girl, please don’t be afraid of me, please I’m sorry, I’m so so-“

You cut him off as he started to nearly sob, convinced you were scared of him, that you thought he might hurt you. “Poe, no, I’m not scared!” Regaining the use of your brain, you stumbled forward and threw yourself against Poe’s chest, gripping the soft tee he’d worn to bed, your face pressed over his heart. “I was just startled, I’m not scared of you, I could never be scared of you.”

You could hear his heart hammering away in his chest, feel how tense he was, his hands hovering in the air behind you. His voice was so quiet when he spoke that if you hadn’t had your head so close against him, you wouldn’t have heard.

“I would never hurt you, fuck, I wouldn’t try to intimidate you. I’m sorry I was going to stand closer so I-I could yell without waking dad up, so stupid...” The sob that had been threatening him tore out, crushing your heart a little.

He was ridiculous because you’d know him your whole life and you knew he wasn’t the type of man to physically harm or scare anyone. Sure, he’d been in his share of fistfights, but even you knew he was usually throwing a punch in response, and these last few months he’d been relatively cool-headed, a sign of his maturity.

You pressed your body closer to his before lifting your head to look up at him. Poe was still not touching you, and he was looking across the room unseeingly as he blinked back tears, his expression tense and upset. With slow movements, you reached up to stroke along his jaw, your hand pausing when you first touched him, your heart rate picking up a little when his eyes closed at your touch. You stroked more than the usual three times, repeating the action until his body relaxed against yours, continuing until his hands tentatively moved, one settling on your waist and the other raising to cup your face.

You stood like that for a long moment, your fingers still trailing the familiar path of his stubble, drinking in the way his expression, eyes still closed, softened for you.

“I know you wouldn’t ever hurt me, Poe,” You whispered, “That’s why I’m fucking wrecked that I hurt you. If you don’t want to see me anymore...I understand, I crossed the line like an idiot. Our friendship has always been the most important thing to me and I overstepped and I’m sorry, you’re right that I’m just a stupid little-“

“Stop,” Though it was low, whispered into the room, the command behind the word was enough to silence you and you gazed at Poe in surprise. He looked at you then, and you delighted at the expression he had, so filled with love and care. “I forgive you, I know you didn’t mean it. I saw your face right as you said it...we just, we both got too worked up. We keep doing that, I think because we know Charlie and I leave in less than a year.”

You nodded in agreement, the small movement making you suddenly very aware of how tightly pressed against Poe you were. He was still holding your face gently, but the hand on your waist was gripping you in a way the suggested he felt the proximity as well. You took a shuddering breath, “I love you, Poe. I’m sorry.”

He dropped his head to rest his forehead against yours, his eyes fluttering half shut, and the weirdest thought suddenly cropped up in your head. The most absurd notion that you could easily tilt your head and press your lips to his. You remained still, but couldn’t help but stare at his soft lips as he spoke.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” The hand on your waist clutched you closer, which you hadn't thought was possible, “And I promise I would never hurt you, never lay a finger on you or say something awful that I meant, never. Nothing could ever, ever make me hurt you, sweet, lovely girl.”

You closed your eyes, unable to trust yourself to resist kissing him when he spoke to you like that, his words coated in the deep, suddenly husky tone of voice. And you couldn’t rid those thoughts as he led you over to his bed and you cuddled against him, ready to sleep but your heart thrumming away as you imagined what it would be like to kiss him, your Poe.

What would it be like to be with him, to touch him, to-and you really blushed now, grateful he’d shut the light back off and his light snores were filling the room-feel him hard for you...you’d never been with a guy before, not like that. You’d had some steamy make-out sessions, groped and fondled with cute guys...but the idea of your Poe coming undone for you...

Well, that was suddenly an idea that you were completely unaware would have such an intense impact on you. You let the images play out in your mind for a moment before taking a deep breath and pushing them back and down, convincing yourself it was just a reaction to the adrenaline, the high emotions. Poe’s grip on you tightened in his sleep, and you snuggled closer to lay your head over his heart and listen to the steady beat.

—

Word travelled quickly around base that Rush Derrin had been beaten up by a pilot; the surprising thing was, at least to you, that the pilot in question was you and not Poe. Apparently, Poe scrapping on the floor with Rush wasn’t nearly as interesting or exciting as the story of how you’d tackled Rush, moved to your feet and drawn your blaster on him in one swift motion.

You had grown used to the quiet greetings over the months you’d been on D’Qar, and enjoyed the last few weeks of friendlier hello’s that cropped up in response to your rekindled friendship with Poe, but the tale of your no-nonsense, ego stripping attack on the rude Healer seemed to blast you into the same orbit Poe had been in as the ever-popular poster boy for the Resistance.

Everyone said hello, no matter where you went or the time of day. Ana sought you out the afternoon after to tell you that all the mechanics were raving about how they thought you were snobbish, and now realized you were, in fact, a silent badass. As embarrassing as it all was, it was nothing compared to Poe’s response to your new status.

He was insatiable, eagerly and proudly telling anyone who would listen-and it seemed everyone did want to listen-his first-hand account of watching you tackle Rush. Of how you’d coldly told him off as you followed your professional directive-protect your Commander, no matter the threat. Your shoulders were starting to ache from the number of times he’d clapped his hands over them, rooting you to the spot so that you couldn’t escape the latest admirers, gripping you because he really was proud, really meant everything he said.

“Okay, seriously,” You breathed when you finally broke free from a group of younger pilots, Poe laughing at your side in amusement at your reaction. “Commander, I may have protected you but I can just as easily go ahead and kick you in the-"

“Ah, come on now sweetheart, you wouldn’t do that,” He laughed, a playful arm dropping around your shoulder. Your insides had started reacting to every single touch, lingering or not, that Poe gave you. Which had been happening a lot lately. And it didn’t help matter that he’d look at you the night of his fight with Rush like you had told him you’d hung the moon just for him. You couldn’t shake the memory of the way he’d gazed at you as you sat frozen, inches away.

“Don’t be so sure,” You grumbled, allowing him to lead you to the hangar, “I now have to hope that if either of us gets seriously injured Rush isn’t the Healer on call, because I doubt he’d be much help now.” You noticed then that even though you were still passing people, and those people were smiling at you, no one had stopped you or spoken to either you or Poe.

Confused, you frowned up at Poe, intending to ask him, but the words died on your tongue.

No one was stopping you because they didn’t want to interrupt Commander Dameron and Major Horn, happily wrapped around each other, looking exactly like a love-struck couple. You were sure that a previous version of yourself, the one who existed years and years ago, would have quickly sprung out of Poe’s reach and laughed awkwardly, made an excuse to run to the fresher. Instead, a feeling grew inside of you that felt a lot like...

Possession. But that wasn’t right, was it?

Poe wasn’t yours, not like that. It was almost like there were two parts of you reacting to the increasing touches; the part that enjoyed the familiarity of his affection, and a part that starved for more and grew hungrier every time it was fed. It made it hard, impossible even, to sort through your real feelings for Poe. Because you did love him, you did feel yourself flush at the idea that others were viewing you as a couple, and yet...the path of your thoughts seemed to reroute itself constantly, focusing on the physical and craving more of it.

Maybe this was your problem before, you couldn’t admit to yourself how you felt toward Poe and it ended up being twisted up until Charlie died. You’d admitted to yourself that the biggest reason you’d fled was that you had realized, all those years ago, that you were in love with Poe. Was that what this was now? Old feelings slamming back home with startling intensity?

Then why could you only focus on his hands on you, if that was the case?

He’d noticed you’d gone quiet and came to a sudden halt in the empty hall, glancing down at you curiously, his eyes darker than normal. You felt his arm hold you a little tighter, the hand on your shoulder gripping almost too hard.

It felt really good.

Fuck, what the fuck.

“Sweetheart?” He searched your face, brows pinching in confusion.

Feeling a little dazed, you shook your head to clear your mind, keenly aware that there was no space between your bodies, that you could press up against him easily. And you were warm, actually. Really, really warm.

“Sorry,” You murmured, forcing yourself to give him a placating little grin, “Just...a little overwhelmed, I think.” You admitted, conceding a partial truth that you knew would suffice.

Instantly, his expression softened and he was backing up, pulling you with him until he was leaning against the wall. He spread his feet apart and pulled you to stand between them, his hands moving to cup your face gently as he looked down at you with kind eyes. You think you stopped breathing. You think he did too. He seemed surprised at his actions.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been teasing you for days,” He sighed after a pause, one thumb absentmindedly stroking your cheek. You were going to combust or pass out, or maybe just evaporate on the spot. “Good news is, I’m pretty sure the General has another mission that’ll take us out of this parsec for a day or two. Should give everyone enough time to move on.” His other hand moved from your face to brush back a few stray hairs, his eyes following the movement hungrily. They were darker still.

There was a familiarity in that darkness.

“That-that’s uh, good,” You stammered, your eyes moving everywhere except to meet his. You were afraid of what he’d see if he looked directly at you. Of what you’d see...but you didn’t understand why you were afraid.

You just got Poe back, you weren’t fucking this up. Get it together, get it together, breathe...

“I know I don’t need to ask,” His voice was low, the timbre shooting straight to your core, “But are you okay to fly, because you seem a little out of it.” His voice sounded wrecked, like it was painful to be speaking.

You nodded hastily, pressing your hands into his abdomen for some unknown reason. You could feel the muscle under his shirt, hell you could remember what it felt like to touch those muscles, to drag your tongue along the surprisingly soft skin, before...before...

Oh fuck.

You think you realized what was happening a moment before it was too late to react, your brain opting to shut down as pleasure ripped through your body with a ferocity that knocked you clean over. With a shuddering moan, you collapsed into Poe as your orgasm rocked through you, unable to speak now as wave after wave turned you into a whimpering mess. He caught you, his face confused even as he unknowingly rutted his hips against you and started trembling.

“What-?” He got a good look at your face then and realization dawned, his expression twisting in horror. “Oh shit, shit,” He groaned, clutching you harder against him and you heard him breathe out your name, equal parts fear and desire colouring his tone before he sunk to his knees, bringing you down with him, and his body stilled.

His orgasm tore through him just as violently, the only thing he could think to do was nuzzle his head into your neck and hide his face as he came. You were limp, your body jerking and convulsing as the high never ended, it seemed to hold at its peak and just drag you along for the ride, unwillingly. In the very back of your mind, you recognized that what was happening was, undoubtedly, an aftereffect to the pollen you’d been exposed to weeks prior. The nightly dreams, subsequent orgasms, the way fire licked up your spine at every touch from Poe...it made sense, and if you weren’t currently trying to keep yourself and Poe quiet as you each came, you’d probably be feeling like a first-class idiot for not reporting the exposure.

“Fuck,” You whimpered pitifully, clinging to Poe for life. You felt another hand on your shoulder suddenly and registered a voice saying your name. It took a few moments to find enough clarity to look up, blinking through the haze to find Temmin standing over you both, his expression frantic with concern.

“Major, (y/n), tell me what’s happening, talk to me here!”

“T-Temmin...we, we were exposed on our, shit,” You had to pause as your orgasm seemed to notch up another level, dropping your head to hide your face against Poe’s. “Mission. Red fertility plant, help, oh maker please help!” You cried out, the burning and heat threatening to undo you completely, no longer overwhelmed with lust but now a high that seemed too far for humans, your heart hammering in your chest like it wanted to break out, run away from you and abandon your trembling body as you burned.

You slumped over, distantly aware of Temmin roaring for medics, but determined to bring your focus to Poe, who was now holding you too tightly. You realized he was speaking into your neck, and you had to tilt your head awkwardly to hear. Your vision was narrowing now, but you could hear him perfectly.

“I can’t hurt you again, don’t let me hurt her, please make it stop.” He repeated this plea over and over, and it was the only thing you could hear as your eyes began to close, as other hands were on you, pulling him away and you fought to keep him close until the heat became too much and a sudden stinging cool hit your arm and you were falling, down and into an unknown abyss, your last thoughts swirling in your head louder than any voice around you.

‘Don’t let me hurt him again, please don’t let me hurt Poe again...’

—

Temmin paced the med-bay waiting area frantically, waiting for an update from the Healers on both the Commander and Major’s statuses. He’d been leaving the hangar when he found them in the hallway, clinging to one another as they seemed to convulse with pain, and it had fucking terrified him. It had made some sense when you’d be able to gasp out an explanation that you’d each been exposed to a fertility plant during your mission. But he didn’t have any room to be embarrassed that you were both essentially having orgasms in front of him because you looked so scared and confused and Poe’s words were stuck in his brain now.

“Please don’t let me hurt her again, make it stop, I can’t hurt her, she’s everything to me, please make it stop...”

While he knew he was a less emotional sort of man, Temmin wasn’t an idiot. He knew that Poe and you were soulmates who’d been through some seriously dark shit. That you just needed to work through it all to find your way back to one another. And apparently, you had started the process-finally-during your classified mission. He had been overjoyed at the change in your interactions with one another, that you seemed to be friends again, at least.

But he’d also noticed the weird reactions you both had to some of his more inappropriate teasing, seen how you would both flush and change the subject and he thought at first that maybe you had started dating again, only something seemed off. You had become increasingly more wound up over the weeks, and Poe had appeared to turn inward more and more, as though his thoughts were so intense he was trying to conceal them with every fibre of his being from everyone.

You had only mentioned a suspicious plant in your reports from your mission. It had been with dawning horror, as he screamed for Healers, that Temmin understood you’d mentioned the flowers because you’d been exposed. That whatever had happened upon exposure had been so bad that neither you nor Poe wanted to include it in your reports.

“Captain?” A Healer came out from the back, a soothing expression on her face that told him you at least weren’t dead.

He hurried forward nonetheless, “Maker, Healer Brooks, please tell me they’re going to be alright!”

Did you enjoy this chapter? Consider leaving a comment or reblogging to ease my inner turmoil as a writer. Thank you 🤍

@mermaidxatxheart @foxilayde @eleinemk @paintballkid711 @mylifeisactuallyamess @20th-centu-fairy-girl @deitysnips @cannedsoupsucks @ubri812 @poedameronloverx @hoeforthefictional @astrological-bitch @itsnottilly @its-djarin @alex-sulli

[buckys-forgotten-plum]

Hold Me Tighter ||3||

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Peter and reader have a talk and Bucky overhears. 

Warnings: Swearing I think? A big of angst, fluff, Buck jumping to conclusions bc he’s a soft dummie...

A/N: Hej hej friends, it’s been a bit since i’ve posted something. My life has been wild and though i’ve been working on various things I have yet to complete said various things. Hopefully posting this gets me back into the groove. Please enjoy and give me feedback as its very much appreciated!! <3

Part ||1||   Part ||2||

~~~~~~

“Do you have an ace?” 

“Nope, go fish,” 

“Do you have a crush on Bucky?” 

You almost drop your hand full of cards on the ground as the words leave the man's mouth. 

“Wha-Peter!” 

“What? It kinda looks obvious, on both sides, but it’s like you guys or holding back or something,” Peter shrugs nonchalantly as he plucks a card from the deck before laying down another set of matches. 

You pout, “Why are you so good at this game?” 

“Answer my question first,” He laughs lightly while playfully nudging your shoulder with his fist. 

You and Peter had been the ones left at the tower while the team was on their latest mission. You felt grateful for the company, or at least you did before he started asking questions while he taught you how to play various card games. The pair of you sat facing each other, legs crossed and knees almost touching as the deck of cards sat in the middle. 

“I dunno… Maybe?” You could feel the fire in your cheeks and ears as you answered, forgetting to ask if Pete had a card and taking straight from the deck instead. 

Peter smiled widely and set down the few cards he still had, putting his full attention on you, “That’s great, Y/n! I think he likes you too! Why haven’t you guys gotten together yet? You spend like every day with each other when Bucky isn’t on a mission. He even cooks for you all the time and I’ve never seen him do that with anyone-” 

“Peter, it's not like that. I’m pretty sure he just thinks of me as like… A charity case or something. He’s helped me a lot since I’ve gotten here but it was solely because he felt obligated too. Kind of like when you find a puppy on the street,” You set your cards down to the side as well, using your free hands to nervously tangle your fingers together. 

“That's ridiculous! Y/n he calls you pet names all the time, he carries you around, I even saw him kiss your cheek before he left!” Peter points an accusatory finger at you. 

Your eyes widen in shock and you stutter before responding, “Why are you paying so much attention to us? It’s weird how much you notice...And besides, lately he hasn’t really been the same. He tells me that he’s always busy with training or meetings or something, and I get that it happens, especially with what you guys do! But it just feels like he’s been avoiding me lately,” 

“The whole team has noticed! You guys have done almost everything but make it official,” The man sighs exasperatedly before leaning forward and pressing his forehead against yours, a silly habit the two of you developed for serious conversations, making you giggle a bit before pushing back, “You should talk with him about it dude,”

You keep your forehead pressed against Pete's, sighing quietly before responding, “I just think… If he doesn’t feel the same way, then everything is going to change. He won’t want to spend time with me anymore, or talk to me, he won’t wanna watch movies with me… He just- he won’t be able to think of me as more than just the silly mutant that’s been obsessed with him for as long as she’s known him,” Your face had scrunched up into a scowl as you thought about what life would be like without Bucky by your side. 

“Hey, hey, hey! He won’t do that, I promise. Bucky isn’t like that, he’d never just start to ignore you or think of you as some obsessed girl. It’s obvious he cares about you a lot, and I think it would be good for both of you to talk about it,” 

“I wouldn’t even know where to start-”

“Start with how you feel, put it all out in the open,” Pete says confidently.

“That’s crazy!”

“How is it crazy?” 

“I can’t just go up to him and say, ‘Hey I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’ve been deeply enthralled and have wanted to be with you since the first time we met!’” 

Peter was about to respond, but a deep voice interrupted, “Y/n?”

You and Pete pull your heads apart and gape at the tall brunette standing in the doorway, his eyebrows pulled together in a frown and his eyes full of confusion. “Bucky I-” 

He puts a hand up before you can continue, “I um-I gotta go shower. Sorry I interrupted you guys,” 

You sat frozen on the floor as Bucky quickly made his exit, Peter switching his gaze between you and the now empty doorway. “Oh my god-” he muttered in absolute bewilderment.

“Wh-what just happened? What should I do? Oh my god he hates me! He’ll never speak to me again-” 

“No! No, no, no it’s fine! Just a misunderstanding! You need to go after him and clear it up,” Peter tells you, hurriedly standing up before grabbing your hands and helping you stand. “You need to tell him everything Y/n. *Everything.*” 

You nod your head in agreement, starting for the doorway, “Thanks pete, I’ll see you later,” 

Peter’s response doesn’t quite register as you quickly walk down the maze of hallways, trying to find the fastest possible route to Bucky’s room. Your heart felt like it was pounding hard enough to escape your chest. 

You let out a yelp as you suddenly hit a wall, “Oh hey kid, you seen Barnes yet? He was lookin for ya,” Tony’s hands are on each of your arms to steady you as he begins to ask how your week with Peter went. 

You can’t focus on any of his questions, solely focused on fixing the mess you had made. 

“Kid? You okay?” Tony steps closer to you, his overbearing father coming out as he reaches up to check your temperature, “hmm maybe we should get you to med, you feel a little hot,” 

“Tony I’m fine-” You try and back out of his grasp but he holds onto you firmly. 

“Hey if you’re gettin’ a fever we want to catch it quick-” 

“I don’t have a fever, please-” 

“C’mon, it’ll only take a minute,”

“Oh my god, goodbye!” You huff out before pushing Tony away from you and using your power to disappear from the hallway. 

Tony lets out an annoyed sigh, “If you get anyone else sick you’re the one who’s taking care of them!” he shouts into the empty space. 

You however, had already popped up outside of Bucky’s door, your hands clenched into fists of stress and nerves. Your right hand went to open the door but when you tried to twist the handle it didn’t budge. 

“Friday can you let me in?”

“Mr. Barnes has specified to not be bothered for the time being,” The AI responded simply. 

You let out a huff of frustration, “Okay well it’s either you unlock the door and let me in or I just pop up in there, so…”

There was a moment of silence before you heard the quiet click of the door unlocking, making you smile victoriously, “Thank you, Friday,” 

Bucky was still in the bathroom with the door closed when you had entered his room. You took a quick look around before deciding to sit on the bed and wait for him to be done. Your fingers began to tangle and pull at themselves in a stressful manner and you couldn’t help the tight feeling in your chest. It only got worse when you heard the running water turn off and the sound of Bucky drying and dressing himself. 

When Bucky opens the door, the both of you freeze in place, eyes locked on to each other for what felt like ages. 

Bucky is the first to break eye contact and move, “I thought I told Friday I didn’t want any visitors,” he mumbles quietly, going over to toss the damp towel in his hands into a laundry hamper.

“I uh- I told her I would just pop in anyways…” 

“Shouldn’t invade people's privacy like that, kid,” his cold tone made you cringe, “can’t start abusing your power like that,”

“Listen Bucky, I came here to explain-” 

“You don’t gotta explain anything to me. I saw what I saw, it’s not a big deal,” he interrupts you and avoids your eyes as he begins to unpack from his mission. 

“Except I think you might not understand entirely-” you begin only to be interrupted again. 

“No! No, I get it. Pete is a good kid, good morals, good background. I can see why you’d like him, it makes sense,” Bucky’s voice was clearly stressed as he spoke and it just made your chest tighten even more. 

“Bucky no-” 

“He’s closer to your age, you have a lot in common, spend a lot of time together…”

“Why is everyone interrupting me today?” you groan out in frustration before getting up off of the bed and walking over to the disgruntled man. 

You move to sit on the other side of the duffle bag he continues to empty, still avoiding your eyes. You let out a huff of annoyance and quickly grab hold of Bucky's hands, bringing them to a pause. 

“Kid, I gotta unpack-”

“No. Not until you let me say what I need to say. Without interrupting me,” You state firmly.

Bucky visibly clenches his jaw, giving you a small nod to continue, “You didn’t hear me say those words to Peter-” 

“Yes I di-” “What did I just say? No interruptions!” 

Bucky sighs, “Sorry,” 

You take another breath before restarting, “You didn’t hear me say those words to Peter. You heard me telling him about what I’d say to someone else,” 

Bucky’s face scrunches up in confusion as he replays your words in his head, trying to put the pieces together, but failing. “Who were you going to say-” 

“You! Ya big dummy. I was telling Peter what I would say to you,” You blurt out with a breath of exasperation. 

Bucky shook his head, as if to try and wake himself up from a daydream, “Are you serious?”

“Yes! Of course I am, Buck. I- Peter said that it would be good for the both of us if I admitted my true feelings for you, and I didn’t know what I would say, so he suggested that I just flat out tell you, and…” You trail off, hoping the older can figure out the rest on his own. 

“And that’s when I walked in? When you had figured out what exactly you’d say?” 

“More or less, yeah,” you answer quietly, giving Bucky’s hands a gentle squeeze to try and bring even more reassurance. 

“Why were you so close to each other?” You looked back up to Bucky, a smile gracing your features as his gaze finally met yours. 

“Because we were having a serious discussion. Isn’t that what everyone does?” You ask, brows slightly knit in confusion.

Bucky chuckles and shakes his head, “No I think that’s only you two,” 

“Oh…” 

The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes, mulling over what you’d like to say next and trying to organize your thoughts. When Bucky didn’t say anything for a while you decided to continue on, “So um...Do you maybe uh-maybe do you feel the same way? About me?”

Bucky doesn’t even wait a beat to answer, “Oh my god yes! Yes I’ve felt the same way for ages, doll!” 

Your eyes widen in disbelief as you take in the new information, “You have?”

Bucky nods his head, a smile on his face as he looks into your eyes, “Sweetheart I’ve been head over heels for you since I first caught you in midair,” he chuckles. 

You grin at Bucky and feel the familiar flickering of your powers take place, knowing your emotions were much too strong to stop it. Within the blink of an eye you had popped out of existence and popped right back up into Bucky’s lap, making him fall over in a huff of laughter. 

You wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face into the softness of his hair, “What gives then you goof? Why didn’t you say anything?” 

Bucky wraps his arms around your waist and gives you a tight squeeze, “Once you started gettin’ the hang of your powers and began training with the rest of the team, I dunno… It felt like you didn’t need me there for you anymore, I didn’t want to risk holding you back from making new friends and connections,” Your heart split in two hearing Bucky’s explanation.

You pull your face out of his lovely smelling hair and stare into the soldier's pretty blue eyes, “That’s silly Bubba. You would never hold me back! You’re the reason why I’m so comfortable around everyone now. You gave me the strength to get out of my comfort zone,” Bucky grinned at your words and shook his head, mentally chiding himself for being so foolish. 

“M’sorry lovie, I guess I got in my own head about everything. Almost messed it all up too because I got so upset when I saw you and Peter,” Your chest swelled with happiness when he calls you one of your favorite nicknames, knowing the two of you were back to normal. 

“It’s okay! I can understand why you thought what you did. But I promise I’ve only ever been deeply enthralled with you,” You laugh and push your forehead up against Bucky’s, making him let out a deep melody of chuckles. 

“Does this mean I don’t have to hold back anymore? I can love on you as much as I want?” Bucky pairs his question with an affectionate nuzzle in the crook of your neck before looking back up into your gleeful eyes. 

You giggle and brush your nose up against his as you nod your head, “You coulda done that before,” 

Bucky’s hands move from around your waist to your thighs, easily lifting the both of you up from the plush carpet, “M’never lettin’ you go ever again. Gonna hold on real tight, sweet girl.” 

You keep your arms wrapped around his neck and try to pull Bucky closer, burying your face back into the crook of his neck and breathing him in. He moves the two of you over to his bed and flops down onto it, pulling the both of you under the covers and tangling his legs with yours. The two of you stay like that for what feels like ages.

A perfectly content tangle of happiness and relief. 

[peralta-guaranteed]

Ao3 prompt by Eneritac: I'd love it if you were to re-visit the Johnny & Dora episode from Amy's POV and then Jake's POV!

(this is basically some introspection set before their real kiss, just imagine there was a night inbetween, I don’t remember how much time actually passed in canon?)

She kissed Jake Peralta. Or rather, well, he kissed her once. And she kissed him. Once. Twice, if you count that cheek kiss she did first. Maybe she shouldn’t count that. It was pretty chaste. But it was a kiss. And it came from her. Before everything else. She had the idea of playing engaged to get a table. It was her. Literal hours after re-instating her ‘no cops’ date rule to Jake. After he made that face at her, the one that she always pretended not to notice. The one that could only be described as ‘longing’. The one that was back on his face after she kissed his cheek.

She’s such an idiot. A bumbling fool. An imbecile, as Holt would say.

Jake likes her. He’s been pretending not to for so long it almost seems believable, but it isn’t. He likes her, and she’s pretty sure it has long since grown out of a crush into something far more. She’s been pulling him to and fro, pushing him away every chance she gets, playing the ‘friends’ card and the ‘colleagues’ card and yet, he continues to like her. He might just be stubborn and persistent enough to keep up with her high strungness.

He makes me laugh, she thinks. At the moment, it had sounded like a rather simple, easy-going answer, nothing too revealing yet still sweet. It was so much more than that.

He made her laugh. He made her feel lighter. He knew how to take her worries, her nervousness, her panic attacks, her constant feeling of pressure and duty, and turn them into nothing with a joke and a smile. He knew how to make her forget and feel carefree again, making her giggle with silly ideas and lifting her spirits with his surprisingly heartfelt little gestures hidden behind pranks.

He likes her. He makes her laugh.

She likes him.

She likes him, she does, she never really stopped, and today she kissed him. Twice. Thrice, actually. She remembers the way his lips felt during that first kiss from him, tense and nervous for a second for their cover being blown, then immediately softening into an actual kiss. If Augustine had just walked past them then - had not talked to them - what would’ve happened? He wouldn’t have stopped, she thinks. He clearly didn’t want to stop when she kissed him in the park, oblivious to her reasoning for it - he didn’t see the suspect near the briefcase, she realises now, all he saw was her, and then nothing when she pushed him up against that tree. There was no cover to be kept in his mind at that moment. And yet he still kissed her back.

She doesn’t know what to do while she lies on her bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep despite adhering to her usual schedule. They’ve agreed to not let it change them, keep things professional. And in the moment those words left her lips, she knew they were the worst lie she’d ever told. She’s kissed Jake Peralta. Jake Peralta has kissed her. There’s no turning back from that fact, no chance to rewind and pretend like it didn’t happen, and she’s not going to go the easy route and chalk it all off as ‘professional’ and ‘necessary’ for their case anymore. Not when she doesn’t remember what Augustine’s fiancée looked like, but clearly remembers Jake’s dazed expression seconds after their kiss in the park. Not when she remembers the feel of his lips on hers and his hands on her back, and wants to feel nothing else while she’s alone at home.

There’s no going back.

So Amy decides to move forward.

-*-

Amy Santiago kissed him. Like, full-on kissed him. Twice. Well, the one time she only kissed him back, but it still counts. It was a proper kiss. Maybe she even kissed him three times. Does a kiss on the cheek count? It does. It does when it makes him feel the way it did. Like fireworks exploding in his belly. Like complete silence in the room around them, despite it being a busy restaurant. Exactly what it felt like to kiss her properly about an hour later.

He’s sure he looked like a complete idiot after that little peck to his face. He definitely felt like one. Amy Santiago had just kissed him, and he should’ve been elated, to say the least, but - it kinda hurt. Because it wasn’t real. It was Johnny and Dora. Not Jake and Amy. Not the way he wanted them to be.

Where they Jake and Amy when he pulled her in, near the kitchen? Or was that Dora sliding her hands around his nape, and sighing just the littlest bit against his lips?

Where they Jake and Amy when she pushed him against that tree, gripped his face, sent a hot line of fire down his back with her kiss?

He didn’t see the perp then, and for a split second, for the rarest moment of his life so far, he had hope. That Amy Santiago was kissing him because she wanted to, not because of some cover like before. It stopped pretty quickly once she drew her gun and shouted something about this ‘being a working situation’. Because of course it was. That’s all it was.

Was it?

Is that the way she sees it still?

There’s really no one else’s opinion I care about more than hers.

It wasn’t a lie back then, and it wasn’t some platitude either. It was a realisation he’d come to a long time ago. He couldn’t give less of a damn what anyone thought about his antics, his weird ways, his unusual habits. He would barely ever listen to criticism or outsider input, not for his cases nor for his regular life. Except from her. Her words weighed like gold against his scales. He’s lost track of the times he’s made a change after something she said, even if it was just a throw away comment. And he’s not going to keep track of it going forward, because it will happen again, and again, and again.

He likes her. She makes him want to be better. There’s really no one else’s opinion he cares about more.

Does she like him?

She used to, once. He knows that now. And god, does that knowledge hurt. The idea that he had a chance, a miniscule chance. And missed it. Would she have kissed him twice if she didn’t like him anymore, at least a little bit? It wasn’t just for show. There is no way the gentle movement of her lips, the soft grip of her hands was entirely played. Not twice in a row, not like that. But he hears her words later, about being professional and not letting this change them. Despite how much he wants to change everything he can, for her. With her. Like he always does.

He doesn’t know what to think while he buries his face in his pillow, tries to drown out the sounds of Brooklyn’s street underneath his window. Closing his eyes doesn’t help him fall asleep, because then his head just replays what he felt the last time his eyes were closed, rough treebark against his back and soft lips on his face, the scent of her perfume he knows so well in his nose. Fingertips carding into his hair. Warmth and comfort and joy wrapping all around him.

He doesn’t know what to think, doesn’t know what she thinks, keeps asking himself what to do now, what she wants him to do now, what he should do now. There’s really no point in second-guessing himself without actually doing anything, though.

So Jake decides to take a leap.

[lovelyfeh]

gosh same honey,,I was gonna play the golden deer route but changed my mind and just replayed the blue lions route again ;-;

this ask,, has me in tears it’s so cute and fluffy and I love it (pls guys send all your Dimitri requests and fluff and angst bc I love him)

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈୨♡୧┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

➼When people think of Dimitri, they think of a kind young prince who’s ideals are quite chivalrous. Tons of girls swoon at the sight of him, as he’s as good looking as he is sweet.

➼Many speculate what his future spouse will be like. Perhaps as upstanding as him? Someone who believes in justice? Maybe even someone that’s ready to fight at his side, confidence being their number one priority!

➼...Or they could be you.

➼Shy, meek, weak hearted, and a bit of a recluse. The exact opposite of the boy you have feelings for.

➼Because of your quiet nature, you often fade into the background. More often than not you’ll find yourself in the back of the class, face aflame as you gaze at Dimitri. You aren’t even sure he knows you exist despite being in the same class, and while that’s disappointing, perhaps it’s for the better?

➼Of course, your very obvious feelings don’t go unnoticed by Sylvain and the rest of the Blue Lion House. His three closest friends find you one morning in the dining hall, dragging you to the training grounds to discuss romance.

➼The entire time you’re there consists of you being bright red, burying your face in your hands while Ingrid and Sylvain try to brainstorm on ways to confess. (Felix keeps trying to leave, but is dragged back in every time)

➼You insist you don’t love the prince! They simply thought wrong! There’s no need for them to help you confess because there’s nothing to confess! You shuffle away and quietly apologize for the trouble, running a hand through your hair shakily.

➼But that conversation gets you thinking; what if you did tell Dimitri how you feel?

➼That day during the lesson, you somehow end up making eye contact with Dimitri himself. He smiles kindly, waving before going back to his lesson. And all you can do after that is practically melt in your seat and try to find out what his favorite tea is.

➼That night, you lay in your bed, gazing at the ceiling while gripping a paper and quill in your hands. You really hadn’t thought this through. What would you even write? ‘We may have never talked but do you want to have some chamomile and maybe kiss?’ What could you do?!

➼It takes all night, but you manage to at least write something that doesn’t sound completely atrocious. Slowly, you place your initials at the bottom of the paper and swallow the lead taste in your mouth. The worst case scenario would be him not knowing who you are at all, and even if he did thoughts of rejection were sticking to you like a bad cold.

➼You wrap the letter in a ribbon, quickly finding Byleth and asking them to deliver it for you. The professor smiles at you and will gladly accept your request, already heading off to find the leader of the blue lions. You scramble to keep up, quickly hiding behind a pillar once they find Dimitri in the entrance hall.

➼He looks surprised when Byleth hands him the note, carefully unwrapping the blue blow and starting to read your confession. You want to cover your eyes so you won’t be disappointed when he throws it away, but can’t stop yourself from looking in case he does... well, anything else!

➼You watch his expression shift from neutral, to surprised, to that of a bashful smile, and then suddenly going very red! He slams a hand over his mouth and stares wide eyed, turning straight towards the pillar you’re hiding behind.

➼You almost faint, but quickly move back and grab the edge of your outfit in fear. Had he seen you? Hopefully not. Had he accepted your invitation to a tea party later today? Hopefully so.

➼And so you escaped from the entrance hall, entering the dining hall and starting to brew his favorite tea. You kept an eye out for the prince as you made preparations, praying to the goddess he didn’t show up and interrupt your plan.

➼(What you didn’t know was that the entire class was keeping him preoccupied while you readied everything. Dimitri was never one for subtlety and Ingrid had seen the whole thing, so she took action and gathered the rest of the students to keep him busy.)

➼And so the time came. You sat in the garden practically on the verge of a heart attack, unable to even eat the pastries you yourself had laid out. The teacup shook violently in your hand as you sipped some to pass the time. Your nerves were completely uncontrollable by now.

➼“My my, you really did everything S/O. And you even brewed chamomile! My favorite!”

➼You stifle a terrified scream when you feel a gentle hand reach from behind you and move a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You turn to the prince, absolutely speechless as he flashes a charming smile at you. He had actually come!

➼He takes a seat across from you, face lightly dusted red and staring at you with an affectionate gaze. You open your mouth to speak, but click it shut and suddenly feel your face growing increasingly warm. “I-I-I didn’t think you’d come!”

➼“Of course I would, S/O. It’s only natural I should tell my beloved that I feel the same way, should I not? Really, I’m surprised you noticed. I kept my crush on you hidden rather well, don’t you say?”

➼You choke, covering your mouth with your hands and stifling the coughs. You don’t need to see yourself to know that you’ve probably turned purple at this point from embarrassment and happiness. A giggle escapes your mouth once you realize the situation. You had both had a crush on each other without the other knowing! How in the name of the goddess had that happened?!

➼You hear Dimitri chuckling, and you look up to see the prince gazing at you dreamily. His hand reaches over and grabs yours, watching in amusement as you stutter while the blush on your face starts to travel to your ears.

➼“Ah, you‘re always so adorable, my love. Now, how about some tea before it gets cold? I want to know all about you, so let’s stay here for as long as we can together, ok?”

➼(You two don’t see the rest of the class and Byleth watching from the monastery windows cheering you both on and giggling at your young love, but hey, some secrets are just meant to be kept, right?)

[autumnslance]

Prompt #2: Silenced

As an infant, Aeryn was told, she never stopped babbling and making noise almost from the moment she left the womb. “The only time you were quiet,” Mother said, “was when you were fast asleep--and that never lasted long enough.”

She laughed about it, years later, but Aeryn knew it had been trying on her, and that Mother had done what she could to hush her child.

As a tot, teetering after her older brother, she had explored the words she could now say, quickly and often, repeating new words she heard, enjoying how they felt in her mouth, on her tongue, the way new sounds changed the shape of everything, how volume could force constriction or expansion of her throat.

“I used to wish you’d just shut up and give me a tick to think,” her brother said.

Aeryn remembered his childhood annoyance; that was easier to forgive.

As she grew into young childhood, silence was a punishment, a deterrent. Stand in that corner and say nothing for a quarter of a bell. If you’re quiet for a few minutes, you can have your dessert. Please stop talking, you’re giving me a headache. Good little girls should be quiet. If you don’t stop talking right now, by the Fury I’ll make you stop!

But she had so much to say, so many words to learn and try and form into...something. She wasn’t sure what, but perhaps if she found the correct combination of words, that feeling bubbling inside her would finally burst into what she was supposed to be.

Then the dragons came. There was no time to speak as they raced back home, as fast as the chocobos could go. No words she knew could describe the sight of their burnt home, the ruins of their village, the inability to find Father. No sound came when the Azure Dragoon himself stopped to speak to Mother, his shining black helm turning toward Aeryn, hiding behind Mother’s skirt and shying away when he offered the child a tight, tired smile.

It did not hide the rage radiating off him in waves. Aeryn felt only relief when he leapt away.

Mother found passage to the land of her birth. She told them, over and over, that she refused to allow Ishgard’s endless war to take anymore from her, to touch more of her family, and so they sailed away. She kept saying this would be a good change, and retold them all of the stories of her homeland and people, again and again.

Aeryn was a ghost, silently trailing after her mother or brother. Her mind kept replaying the ride home, clinging to her brother as their chocobo careened after Mother’s, the wind whipping past so fast it was hard to breathe.

It was as if that wind had stolen away her voice, when she could finally look up and see what remained.

“Such a good, quiet little girl,” an old woman said at the campfire. It was the first night they rejoined her Mother’s people, and the wandering caravan they were part of, traveling the length and breadth of the land for half of the year.

Mother shook her head, brushing Aeryn’s fine black hair with her fingers. “She used to talk ceaselessly. She’s barely made a sound since...it happened.”

Aeryn knew she was worrying Mother, but how could she explain? How could she fix it, make Mother not worry anymore?

The conversation continued around her, dull and distantly buzzing in her ears, their words nothing more than formless sound. She stared at the fire, liking the way it danced, and became aware she was being watched.

Another old woman held her in a steady gaze, kind and gentle. Aeryn tilted her head, and the elder tilted her head in response. Aeryn squinted, and the woman squinted back. Aeryn made a face, and when that too was mirrored, she couldn’t help but giggle, making the old woman smile, and startling Mother.

Shovanna was an old teacher; her son handled most of the children by then, but she took Aeryn’s hand and led her away from those classes, to have their own among the wildflowers and trees, by brooks and ponds, in near silence.

Shovanna said little, and Aeryn felt no pressure to say anything when with her; not like with Mother, or her brother, or grandparents and uncles and cousins. She could simply walk along, pointing out things she liked or found interesting, tugging Shovanna’s shawl when she needed her attention. She could help the old woman with her gathering and other chores, with her crafts and creative projects, and felt understood despite the lack of words.

Aeryn could almost breathe.

As they reached the winter camp and settled into the routine of something like their old village life, Aeryn had dreams of whipping winds and fiery wings and charred buildings. The sounds she made were screams and sobbing, Mother kept awake as if tending an infant again.

Shovanna began a new game with Aeryn; designs on paper, in the dirt, as they sewed. String the designs together, however...Aeryn gasped the first time she realized that was a word, and what it meant. Shovanna smiled, patted her back, and wrote a new one.

Making letters herself was difficult at first, but Aeryn learned quickly, driven to unlock this new way to use words. To describe what she saw, what she wanted, what she thought. Mother had to shake her awake at the table to put her to bed, taking away the pens, ink, and paper so Aeryn couldn’t try to keep going.

The nightmares lessened.

Just as Spring was coming and preparations were being made to return to their winding route along the countryside’s trade roads, Shovanna placed a piece of paper in front of Aeryn. She recognized the old woman’s tidy handwriting.

Why did you stop talking?

Aeryn figured out the words, and frowned. After several long minutes, she took the pen Shovanna offered, and carefully wrote a reply, trying to keep it neat.

The wind stole my voice.

“Hrm,” Shovanna hummed. She took back the paper and pen, and wrote a little more. Then she passed it back to Aeryn.

Tell me?

She held the pen out to the little girl.

Aeryn hesitated, then took it. She wasted some ink, blotching the paper as she thought. It came slowly at first, then faster, her handwriting getting larger and messier as the words came tumbling out, too fast for her hand to keep up and it was getting so hard to see the paper and her writing because her eyes were stinging so badly and...and...and...and….

An angry, shapeless sound tore out of her throat, like a dam breaking in a flood, as the words raced up her fingers--arms--shoulders--to her unblocked throat--out of her mouth.

Shovanna held her and stroked her hair until the torrent abated, leaving Aeryn shaking and hiccuping.

Her voice came in fits and starts, some days easier than others, but she was speaking again, and her family was relieved. The nightmares faded as she wrote about them, taking that fear and energy, channeling it into stories, songs, and poems. She wrote notes to her brother and mother, and letters to friends made along their travels.

She was still praised for being a good, quiet girl, but she was no longer entirely silent.

When she returned to the land of her birth, the praise became “stoic” as she became an adventurer, then a Scion, and then the Warrior of Light.

Yet she spoke, and sang, and wrote poems and letters. She met an elderly elezen with legendary bow skills but more interest in the power of songs, and a dashing miqo’te in red who wove spells and swordwork. She again met the man who used to be the Azure Dragoon, whose lance was as steeped in history as in combat.

Aeryn had spent so much time, in her incessant chatter as a child, in her ceaseless writing as a youth, trying to figure out that something she had once felt bursting inside her, that she had feared the wind had stolen away.

She prayed to the saints gone before to guide her hands, sang to encourage her allies, and called fire and stone down upon the realm’s foes.

Aeryn would not be silenced again.

((I feel like I ought to take this one and expand/rework it, it feels like the frame of something more. Later, though!))

[wellplacedrocket]

First Half GIFvalanche: Nick...Foles...?

Right up until game time, I was unsure what I would do to watch. Pete and I were invited to a friend’s Super Bowl party. I could have found a bar downtown full of my fellow Eagles fans who couldn’t score tickets, or found a slightly quieter one closer to home. But as game time grew closer, I started to feel sicker and sicker with anxiety. An hour before kickoff, I didn’t want to be with anybody, even my favorite people. I knew I wanted solitude, and quiet. I didn’t want any chatter or cheers or boos or people asking me what I think or how I feel. Pete left for the party, and I was relieved when he was gone. I stayed home.

I watched my favorite team play in the Super Bowl from our couch, with a glass of water and a single light on. I didn’t even feel like drinking beer.

I did less in-game texting for the Super Bowl than I did for the NFCCG, I think my family, friends, and relatives know how I get when I’m watching sports that are super important to me. I’m not really a boisterous fan in the moment, even when my favorite teams are kicking ass. I’m not a dry, joyless tape eater either, I just concentrate hard on understanding the game, and one can get lost in considering all the machinery in football.

I was still emotionally rollercoastering on the inside. If you don’t care about sports or being a fan of competitions, I can forgive you for being baffled as to why I could care so much about the outcome of this football game that I was having physiological manifestations of anxiety - dry mouth, zero appetite, agitation, thumping heart. I would counter that competitiveness is as human nature as art, love, and politics; sports are just the version that use physics in real space and require athleticism; and the core of being a fan of watching other people compete is empathy as much as it is tribalism. To say “who cares, it’s just a game” is like saying about the Mona Lisa “who cares, it’s just swirls of paint.”

Of course it doesn’t really matter. Of course it still means the world.

And I had watched it all go south before, back in 2005.

The Eagles got the ball first, and Nick Foles - starter turned journeyman turned backup turned guy-in-the-spotlight - took the field. Normally, I’d be giggling at the story everyone was imagining would play out. That shit doesn’t happen in real life, and certainly not with the Eagles. I was prepared for the worst of cynical reality, but emotionally I didn’t have a choice but to silently tell the guy, well...go blow the doors off history, my dude.

I remember nodding my Football Approval at the very first playcall they had, a 5 yard stop to Nelson Agholor, he of the incredible career turnaround. Yes, yes, I thought to myself, as a Wise Football Knower. A simple, easy play to get both Foles and a receiver in the game, get some confidence. Make it routine.

That was about it for my calm, routine football consumption for the day. On the following 3rd & 4, Foles was “flushed,” which is not what Eagles fans want to see since he is about as mobile as an anvil, but the replay showed he wasn’t really in much pass rush danger. He just shuffled to his left to improve the angle from which to throw to an Alshon Jeffery whip route. This is a veteran sort of move, a subtle little thing that turned out to be a good indicator that Foles was going to be no joke that day.

A few plays later, 3rd & 12 on the 45 for your offense on their first drive isn’t great. Jesus fuck, it’s the Super Bowl. Is this the beginning of 3 hours of bed-shitting until they’re finished, and I have the rest of my life to cry about it? I’m not old enough, I can’t expect the sweet embrace of death to sweep it away soon.

I think the mark of your football team’s competence is how confident you feel in these uphill do or die situations when you know they gotta throw it. I’m bringing this up because the story of this game for me was things that I had zero confidence would ever happen...happened. The O-line held up long enough with a nice chip from Jay Ajayi for Torrey Smith to get open right in the middle of the field, and Foles hit him for 14 yards.

Every time the Eagles fucked something up, I was ready to take the big, fat L with a side of ugly crying. They pushed it down to the two yard line on the opening drive, then a false start and two incompletes later, they’re kicking. Points, right? Nah, this was the beginning of the great unraveling that must happen for the Eagles to lose the championship game and order to be restored to the universe.

The Eagles defense...my god. I had been used to them being the strength of the team. They stuffed the first play, a screen, and then just gave up chunk yardage after chunk yardage from there. Much was made about how their pass rush vanished the whole game, but a couple things on that. First, the Patriots were having extra blockers on almost every play. And the pass rush was closer to giving Tom Brady tickles than you might think. Commentators often show a little segment in-game about his throwing mechanics and how quick it is. He might be a fancy dog, but the man is football smart. He knew he had to get that thing outta there.

Secondly, I have a hunch that the secondary was being coached to, at all costs, not get burned deep. I’m not enough of a football nerd to look this up, but were the Patriots even a top-tier bomb threat like the Texans? I think their offense is more about 8, 10, 15 yard route combos that dice up the coverage and let the best QB to ever play put the ball where the holes open up. So a lot of the Patriots offense looked like this:

Look at how soft that coverage is. Jesus! What happens here is a play action pass - two Eagles LBs end up going after the FB, who was just trying to block somebody, and then walked-up safety Malcolm Jenkins attacks the RB. An 8 yard dig for Gronkowski goes over top of them. To be fair, that’s mostly on the LBs and Jenkins - three guys -  for getting fooled by two guys in the backfield. But rarely did they press the coverage, even just to mix things up. That drive ended up with a FG attempt, but the Eagles’ CBs were at least 6 yards off even in 2nd and 3rd & short from near the damn goal line.

The Eagles had the best O-line in the league all year, even without future hall of famer LT and team Mufasa Jason Peters, and their subsequent drive is when it showed. Beleaguered backup LT Halapoulivaati Vaitai, who had been the only serious hole in the line after Peters was hurt, and who also now had a much less escapable QB to protect, had quietly ceased to be a liability in the NFCCG. A well-blocked, big hole for Blount for a big gain on the ground,

then decent protection for Foles to chuck a 30 yard TD to Alshon Jeffery.

This is the kind of miracle play that suddenly no longer seemed like a miracle for Foles and the offense. It was just well executed football, and furthermore, it was a play they had made before. Then Jake Elliott shanked the PAT, and that also was a thing they had done before. And I could just see the Wise Football Knowers all sagely nodding their heads after the Eagles lose by a point.

…and then on the Patriot's drive, the defense’s soft or completely broken coverage gave up the entire field. What actually had me just as concerned was how the run defense, a core strength of the team, was getting schooled by the Patriots’ O-line on this drive. However, despite the comprehensive defensive collapse, this drive ended with one of the coolest tackles of the season to bring it to a halt,

and then the Eagles caught a break with the botched FG. Weird...

Normally, the Eagles’ next drive would have utterly convinced me that the wheels were about to come off them. This was the game’s only punt, and nothing sucks the wind out of your sails like a turnover (on downs, in this case) that results in a god damn punt. However, I did notice something that shot my eyebrows up.

Look at Foles go! This is not a guy known for his escapability, but that was a nice move to evade the pass rush. It looked like Carson Wentz had ahold of a joystick controlling Foles and was sweatily workin’ that thing for all it was worth. The pass was incomplete, but Jesus, is this Nick Foles out there? What is going on with that man?

I considered putting a gif in of the game’s only punt, and then decided to get ahold of myself.

The very next play sums up a few of the points I’m making about this game.

Look at the coverage! It’s 10 yards deep! And what happens is Brady is again dancing on a razor’s edge to get the ball out, but then he does to a guy who is wide open, waaay downfield. In fact, he is so open and the coverage was so soft that he turns around, 30 yards deep, and there’s three defenders still deeper than him. This is an awkward position to be in, as a receiver - usually when you’re that deep and you get the ball, you got to worry about putting a move on just one guy who’s already right next to you, and then getting chased from behind. Here, Eagles CB Ronald Darby is playing very soft and then when Cooks makes his break, Darby is content to just make sure he doesn’t get any further upfield, rather than try to get in the way of the ball (it looks like he was pretty badly burned anyway, so this might not have been a bad idea).

Cooks comes out of his catch with Darby 5 yards deeper than him, and another defender in man-to-man off to his right, and I'm assuming a single high safety who must have been standing on the damn moon. He tries to make moves in all this space, looking at the two guys in his way, and he ends up getting hammered by Malcolm Jenkins coming from behind on a hit that probably should have been penalized. Ugh. Cooks motionless on the field is why I hate myself for loving football.

Then came this gem. My god...it’s beautiful.

The ball was just a little long, and I tend to defend football receivers who take shit for drops from fans who never played football - the shit is harder than it looks, man. Especially catching over your shoulder. But it really looked like Tom Brady should have been able to get that one. That man is the best QB to ever play the game, the most accomplished player, embarrassingly rich, good looking, with a literal supermodel for a wife. It’s nice to see him fail once in a while, because it LOOKS LIKE HE’S HOGGING ALL THE FUCKING SUCCESS. Especially on a catch I’m confident I could have made. Actually, I’m full of shit, the fear of the Super Bowl spotlight and the freaks of nature flying around me would have had me shriveled into a mound of weeping goo. But I’d have caught it in practice!

On 4th and 5, the Patriots went for it, and the Eagles actually played tighter coverage. The ball went to Gronkowski down the sideline and while he had a little space and could have maybe made the play, it would have been very tough even for him.

Now here’s a case where I understand why football nerds love the all 22 video, because it’s hard to tell how Zach Ertz gets so open. It’s 3rd and 7, and the Patriots are playing much tighter coverage than the Eagles have in this game, and it looks like Ertz’s defender is on him pretty well as they pass out of view to the left. When the throw comes and the camera pans, the defender has moved several yards to the sideline - Ertz must have put a hell of a move on him.

Now, a couple plays later, what is this. WHAT IS THIS.

The difficulty level here is batshit blithering bananabonkers. That is a tough, tough throw and catch, people. This is not the kind of play I’m accustomed to seeing the Eagles make, especially not with NICK FOLES. I never thought he was a bad QB, maybe streaky, and QBs tend to get too much credit and blame for team results - but I certainly never thought he had this kind of stuff in him, in the Super Bowl.

Now I gotta highlight the this next play not for LaGarrette Blount, who made a great run, but instead my spirit animal, Brent Celek, the longest tenured Eagle, who many assumed would be gone after this game. He is a TE who saw more action in the passing game in his younger years, but especially ever since Zach Ertz showed up, he had been shifted to being a larger blocking TE, who occasionally gets a ball his way. That was my whole football career, minus the “larger.”

Eagles come out with a heavy Ace wing formation, so Celek is on the left wing, next to Isaac Seumalo, a backup lineman who gets thrown in at TE positions for extra beefy offensive sets. Ertz isn’t even on the field here.

Look at that textbook chip-to-backer that blows open the play for Blount to take it to the house.

I don’t want to get all sportswitery with the “lunchpail”, and “scrappy”, and “working class” stuff for another white role player in pro sports, but this is great work by the old man. Celek didn’t have a catch in this game, but this is an impact play from a guy who’s been around forever, and so a part of Super Bowl 52 is rightly his. Let’s see that again.

Just so tasty. Technically perfect TE blocking there.

The Patriots busted a screen into the red zone on their ensuing drive, but then Eagles the actually got pretty good backfield pressure and rushed some of Brady’s throws. They had to settle for a field goal.

The Eagles got the ball back, and found themselves in 3rd and 4 and did a slightly unusual thing that I always kinda want to see more in football - they ran it. Four yards in a 3rd and mid situation isn’t a huge ask, especially with defenses going to sink zones more than they otherwise would. It's even more attractive on the opponents’ side of the field when if you don't quite make it, you’re gonna go for it on 4th and very short anyway.

LG Stefen Wisniewski pulls through the hole and actually has a tough time finding anyone to block at first. This is more excellent blocking, RG Brandon Brooks chips the NT and gets second level, C Jason Kelce takes that chip and turns the NT away from the hole, and RT Lane Johnson has to actually shift a bit to his left to get the DT and then fool him into the action going right. This is high level stuff, and Ajayi made the most of it. Walked-up S Devin McCourty was the only guy unblocked here, and he had a tough diving tackle to make through traffic. Even if he made it, it would have likely been a first down. As it happened, some shitty tackling by the Patriots' secondary gifted the Eagles quite a bit more.

Then...

Some folks were bitching about Jeffery here - this is just a tough break. Clement had a nice step-up block, but Foles shorted it a bit. It just took a super lucky bounce for the Patriots, it happens. Of course, with the gravity of the moment, as I sat there in silence, I knew the sky was falling, the sun was exploding, and without a doubt I was going to die. And the Eagles were never gonna win the Super Bowl.

Despite a defensive holding reversing a pretty decent defensive stop on 3rd and 6, what concerned me the most about the Patriot’s drive here was again the ease of their run game. It didn’t look like they were blowing the Eagles front 7 off the ball or anything. It just looked like there were always guys in the way of tacklers, and each run was going for at least 4 yards. Then the Patriots hit on this.

The pass protection is pretty good here, but again Brady just barely gets it away. What has got me flummoxed is how CB Jalen Mills can just cough it up after giving Hogan a 10 yard cushion. Again, you can’t see what (if any) moves Hogan busted out there to sucker Mills, but whatever he did completely pantsed him. The single high safety was caught between two routes, and the Eagles D was looking like Swiss god damn cheese.

Man, this is just such a shitting of all the beds. I think the biggest improvement the defense made this year over last year was tackling - but not on this play. Shudder. All season long, the strength of the defense had been its front 7 (and the depth there) handling the opposing run game and wrecking backfields in order to limit pass options against a mediocre-at-best secondary. Now we’re seeing the opposite of what happened to the Vikings - if the front 7 struggles, the Eagles defense is a house of cards.

The Patriots’ ensuing missed PAT wasn’t much comfort, rather it was continuing my bafflement. What a weird game.

When sportswriters talk about a guy “feelin’ it” or “feelin’ himself” (I’ve always thought the latter was funny phrasing), they’re talking about the zone Foles is in here. However, it’s the line that’s truly in hypermode. Look at how far pass rush must be from Foles’s mind on this drive.

Even that incomplete was on the money. Then came a kiss-the-fingers wheel route.

That kind of route is a way harder throw to make than you think. Clement’s defender got burned, and Foles’s throw was absolutely perfect with very friendly, catchable touch - the kind that makes love to your hands as the ball nestles into them, the kind that Aaron Rodgers makes look so easy but is in fact impossible. I’ve never been a QB, but I don’t understand how they don’t howitzer bricks at everyone, with their nerves going nuts in huge moments. And this was the hugest moment for Foles.

It was very kind of the Patriots to return the Eagles' bad-tackling favor. The first missed tackle from behind had Clement feeling like he had a Super Mario invincible star going, and sometimes when you feel like that, you’re going to just run through people, like he did. He then plowed forward another 7 yards on the subsequent 1st and goal.

I don’t have any gripes with Doug Pederson’s playcalling on 2nd and 3rd and goal here. Fullback dive with some fake sweep action, and kind of a cross fade thing. I get triggered when teams do three in a row of 4 x 1 sets with a lobbed fade to the 1. In my college football days, our QB was a 6’5” 250 lb tank machine with a giant man-child’s body. But he was athletic and also played basketball. In goal line situations, we’d put the backup QB in, split the starter out wide, and run the Denny Fade. It would work embarrassingly well, against DIII defenses. In the pros, you’re not gonna be able to get physical matchups that mismatched, like ever.

Here’s something I think won’t age well: the idea that going for it on 4th and goal at the 1 with 38 seconds left is a super controversial decision. But that doesn’t mean that it wasn’t an emblematic moment for this coach and this team. Anyone who’d watched the Eagles all year knew the balls on Big Balls Doug - the man is fresh out of fucks to give. However, the play they went with…

That deserves its own wing in the football hall of fame. Let’s add some context here! This is 4th and goal in the SUPER BOWL with TAWM FACKIN’ BRADY waiting to take over on the other side, and the defense was shitting the bed. And Nick Foles goes over to the sideline and asks Pederson for this play, and then asks the world to hold his beer and watch this.

If you watch that video of the Philly Special, you see Foles trot over to the sideline during the time out and ask Pederson “you want Philly Philly?” Pederson stares at him for a beat and I’d like to think there’s a few explanations for that. One is that he grasps the gravity of the situation. It’s 4th and goal in the Super Bowl, and the guy who was his backup the whole year - but over the last two weeks has super soldier serumed into a football juggernaut - is asking for a gadget play. The wheels turn a few moments for Pederson before he’s like “fuck it, why not?”

The other possible explanation is that Foles garbled his request. Perhaps a combination of (admirably held-in-check) nerves and the god damn Bud Light ad campaign seeping into everyone’s brain caused him to mix his words in the moment, and Pederson stared at him a long moment wondering what the hell he was saying before it clicked that he wanted Philly Special.

Every time my college team would ever run a trick play, I always had a hard time containing my excitement in the huddle. There’s just nothing else in sports like cheeky football shenanigans. I’d hear the play call and giggle and fidget, and I couldn’t wait to see the defense after we pantsed them in front of God and their fans, and the QB ended up with the ball by himself hustling up the sideline while everyone else was chasing highly manufactured decoys. It always felt like an Ocean’s 11 caper.

A few seconds after Foles trotted back out onto the field, Pederson was approached by Blount, who asked, “What we got, Dougie?” Pederson showed him on the play card and Blount responds with a satisfied smile: “Philly Special.” Then after the play, Malcolm Jenkins, who had probably seen it enough times in practice to get fooled by it himself, pumped a fist on the sideline saying “They brought it out in the Super Bowl.”

Ruses are a big part of the routine action of football, and trick plays turn it up to 11. They’re risky because you’re usually asking people to do a quirky thing they’re not accustomed to doing and rarely practice, but a good trick play can be a huge practical and moral victory for your team. And the Patriots had just botched a similar one a few minutes ago! Not only were the Eagles styling on them and snatching a touchdown at the end of the half, Nick Foles was showing up Tom Brady (HAHA, oh my god, typing that sentence). “We can run this shit, and you can’t.”

There’s a bit of nuance going on with this play. On the sideline a minute later, Eagles TE Trey Burton, who made the throw, asks “Hey, Foles! Why were you so open?”

Foles says, “I sold it! I did some acting. I had a wide 9, I was like ooohhhhhh…”

“Wide 9” refers to “9-technique,” a down lineman (I think in this case it was actually an OLB) split way out to the side of the offensive tackle to give himself a lot of space to work with to try to get past the blocking and get into the backfield. In this case, with Foles ending up on the right wing, a wide 9 guy out there would have a lot of time to see him sneaking out on his route. Foles had to really pretend like he wasn’t doing anything of note on the play and let that wide 9 guy ignore and get past him before hustling out to the flat. When the ball is snapped, Foles straightens up and watches the action that’s all heading left for a beat, letting the wide 9 guy crash inside and get picked up by Ertz’s wham block coming back right.

Ertz has the most important block of the play here, because he’s gonna be one on one with the guy who can muck up all the slow developing stuff going on in the backfield. He has taken a lot of shit for his blocking, but he was much, much better in 2017 and 2018, and blocking one guy with that much space can be tough. In my day, we had a double reverse flea flicker called “Wappy Duck,” which required a very, very long block on an edge rusher who would be reacting to the different directions the ball was going. I had to block him, then pretend to kind of lose him as the play went to one side (I liked to embellish this with a “sssshhhhiiiiit”), then show up with a vengeance again on him when he reacted to the play coming back the other way. It’s tough to do, and was probably the trick play thing I got the most practice at. So props to Ertz for a crucial job well done out of the spotlight there.

And shout out to former QB Trey Burton for the throw. Perfect touch on the ball, made it an easy toss and catch. He even kept his gloves on, so as not to tip the Patriots that something was up. I never got to throw the ball in anything, not even scout team. We didn’t have any trick plays for me :(.

This was a lot of babble about this one play, but it might have been the best thing I’ve ever seen in football. Gun to my head, if I had to get a tattoo, I’d get this:

The Patriots had 34 seconds to try to steal some points before halftime, and given the defense’s struggles against any sort of pass action, the ensuing 45 yard attempt by Brady clenched me up. They would for sure have had a good shot at getting a FG if they’d hit, and so the Eagles’ DBs’ midair collision causing the ball to bounce harmlessly away was certainly good enough for me.

In these few quasi-desperate plays for the Patriots’ offense, you can see rumblings of something that would come back around later - what might happen if the Patriots absolutely had to throw it deep downfield. Suddenly hands were closer to untouchable Brady, and he even had to tuck it and run before being caught inbounds by Brandon Graham around midfield.

The screen to run out the clock was scary in the moment, but ultimately harmless.

So the Eagles went into halftime with a lead. In the Super Bowl. For the first time ever. The offense was at the height of its powers, the line was plowing holes, Pederson was cooking, and Nick Foles (Nick Foles!) was in Hyper Mode. And the defense was generally trash. They’d had a spectacular season, the most awful, stressful, exasperating, fun one I’d ever had watching football. I knew as NBC went to commercial that this was it - this was as good as I’d ever feel as a football fan, because when the game came back, the inevitable Patriots comeback would begin and the Eagles would just be one more footnote in Tom Brady’s legend.

And yet there was an entirely irrational part of my brain that popped up, cleared its throat, and asked quietly “Yeah, but what if they win?”